I make a quick call to my parents since I know they are waiting up to hear from me. I texted them when I landed on Irish soil, and I had planned on calling them from the taxi, but Micheál and his enthusiastic banter ended that plan. I FaceTime Mom and Dad, giving them a quick tour of my new place, thanking them profusely for organizing all of this and asking Mom to email me Moira’s address so I can send her an Irish care package as a thank-you.
Stripping off my clothes in the bigger of the two bedrooms, I take a blistering-hot shower before changing into yoga pants and a top. Yanking my wet hair into a messy bun on top of my head, I flop down on the bed and open the Irish cell phone Moira organized for me. It wasn’t necessary. I could’ve just used my US one, but I like the idea of switching off my main cell and forgetting about all the shit I’ve left behind.
My parents and Audrey are the only people I need to stay in contact with, so I shoot them a quick text ensuring they have my new number. Briefly, I contemplate messaging Reeve from my US cell, but I think better of it. I need to cut ties, and it’s best to start out how I mean to go on. It’s hard though, because I’m used to sharing everything with him without even thinking about it. It’s second nature to call him or message him, but I guess I’ll eventually break the habit.
I spend a couple of hours unpacking all my stuff and hanging it in my closet. Then I dress more warmly in boots, jeans, and my thickest sweater, grab my jacket, and head out to explore. My inability to sleep properly on the plane is affecting me now, and I need to keep busy to stop myself from falling asleep. Classes start in three days, and I need to have reset my body clock by then. I’m determined to stay awake for as long as possible today.
The instant I step outside, I’m accosted by a blast of cold air I feel deep in my bones. “Holy shit,” I mumble to myself. “There’s cold, and there’s Ireland.” At least the rain has stopped, which is a bonus. Pulling up Google maps, I follow the sidewalks to Grafton Street. Ciara said it’s the best place to shop, and she suggested I try Brown Thomas, a high-end department store.
I have to walk past Trinity College on the way, and I can’t resist taking a peek. I’m wearing the biggest smile as I pass under Trinity’s famous granite campanile—the iconic bell tower. Superstition says anyone passing under the campanile when the bell chimes will fail their exams, so apparently, many students refuse to walk under it.
I’m determined to be strong and brave.
To emerge from the wreckage of my heartbreak like a new woman, and from now on, I’m going to laugh in fate’s face.
With that in mind, I walk back and forth under the bell tower for several minutes, gathering plenty of inquisitive stares from the men and women walking across the campus.
Taking out my phone, I snap a ton of pics as I stroll among the impressive gray stone buildings, admiring the exquisite architecture. The campus is pristine and clearly well-maintained. Ghosts of students past seem to hover around me, and the air vibrates with the history of the surroundings. My glee elevates with every step I take, reaffirming the decision I made to come here.
Something about this place feels so right.
It’s an unshakeable feeling.
Like fate has brought me here for a reason.
Laughing at myself, I resist the lure of the library and the Book of Kells continuing my way to Grafton Street. The pedestrianized street is only a few minutes’ walk from the campus, and it’s bustling with people. I stop outside Bewley’s Café to listen to some of the musicians busking in the street, soaking up the electric atmosphere.
My tired body gains a new lease on life as I explore my new city.
I purchase some warmer clothes in Brown Thomas, organizing delivery direct to my apartment building. Then I spend an enjoyable afternoon strolling through the park at St. Stephen’s Green, feeding the birds, and wandering through quirky little side streets. When my stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten anything since the plane, I step into my first Irish pub.
Bruxelles is just off Grafton Street, and it’s a traditional Irish pub known for its live music and great food. Pulling myself up onto a stool, I examine the menu, ordering the beef stew because I’m fucking freezing and I could use something hot to warm me up. Micheál told me I should sample the black stuff, aka Guinness, but I’m not sure I could stomach it today, so I opt for a glass of wine, purely because I can. In Ireland, the legal drinking age is eighteen, which is an added bonus.
I do some grocery shopping on the return journey, almost collapsing with exhaustion by the time I make it back to my new abode. It’s only seven p.m. and still way too early to sleep. So, I figure out how to use the Nespresso coffee machine and make myself a double espresso before logging on to the Trinity College student portal and downloading my class schedule.
I give up the fight a couple of hours later and crawl into bed, too tired to remember my heartache.
Waking up the following morning, I’m disorientated for a few seconds until I remember where I am. I glance at the clock, surprised to see it’s ten a.m. I slept for a solid thirteen hours, which has got to be a new record for me.
Nausea swims up my throat as I wonder what went down at the premiere last night. Grabbing my cell, I press it against my chest as I try to talk myself out of checking the internet. All the thoughts I’d so successfully blocked yesterday resurface, and I think I might be sick. My mind unhelpfully conjures up images of Reeve and Saffron pawing at one another on the red carpet, dredging up the visual of them kissing that is forever imprinted in my brain, and a sob rips from my chest.
Why did I tell Reeve he was a free agent?
Why did I say he was free to be with her with a clear conscience?
Why did I leave?
Tossing my phone on the bed, I sit up, burying my head in my hands as I cry. Pain rips through me like a tornado, flattening everything in its path. Intense longing washes over me, and I wish Reeve was here. I wish he was experiencing all the wonders of Ireland alongside me. I wish that I wasn’t alone, but I’d better get used to it, because we’re not together anymore. I won’t be sending him any of those pics I took yesterday or sharing details of my first day in a new country, because that’s not who we are to one another anymore.
Losing Reeve impacts my life in so many different ways, and it’s learning how to exist on my own that is my biggest challenge.
One I’m not sure I’m strong enough to accomplish.
Maybe I was too hasty in walking away from him.
Too quick to discount his declarations of love.
“Oh God,” I cry out, rolling into a ball on my side. “Make it stop!” I scream to the empty room. “Please make this pain stop!”
My cell pings, and I snatch it up, desperate for a distraction. It’s a message from Audrey. She must be out partying if she’s still up this late.
You said you didn’t want to know, but I’m your best friend, and I know you’re tearing yourself apart wondering what happened at the premiere. Reeve wasn’t with her. He looked tense in all the photographs, and he kept his distance as much as possible. He left the after-party early, and he was alone. If it helps, he looked utterly miserable. According to reports, she was hanging off Rudy all night. So, dry your tears. Remember I love you and I miss you so much already. Be brave, and go shape your own destiny.
28
My legs are shaking with nervous anticipation as I enter the lecture hall for my very first class at Trinity. Ironically, it’s American literature. Though I will be taking classes in Irish writing, postcolonial literature, Shakespeare, and the Middle Ages too. I am also attending some classes in film studies, because the degree program here is a joint majors course. The syllabus this year has a big focus on screenwriting, so it wasn’t a hard sell.