“Glasses are in the top left.”
I don’t need to turn around to know it’s his.
The only voice I’d know here.
***
“Peanuts?”
“Huh?”
“Peanuts, ma’am?”
“Oh, no thanks.”
“I’ll take them,” says the guy next to me.
“Yeah, he can have 'em.”
“Oh, sorry it’s just one per person, sir,” pipes the flight attendant.
“Ok then lady do you mind grabbing them and giving them to me?”
I nod in annoyance.
“No sir, I’m afraid that’s not allowed because I already know she doesn’t want —”
“I’ll take the peanuts,” I say, grabbing them from her hand and setting them down on the man’s tray table.
She rolls her eyes but continues to the next row.
“Peanuts sir?”
Two hours later, I’m sitting in the exact same position with the peanut man’s elbow still digging into my rib cage. Audrey Hepburn is looking for Cat on the screen and the baby who was crying earlier has moved on to the trying-to-catch-his-breath stage. I get up to go to the restroom and am about to ask the woman across the aisle from me if she can please watch my stuff when I realize we are approximately 38,000 feet in the air. Even if someone wanted to steal the twenty bucks and old metro card in my wallet they would need a parachute and an oxygen mask to do so. I finish my diet Coke, crush the can and start walking toward the back end of the plane.
As I’m walking in the dim light, I scan the room for a familiar face, any features that I’ve seen before. His or those of a distant relative, an old coworker, I’d even settle for a middle school classmate. But by the time I reach the bathroom, I realize I know no one on this plane.
I make my way back to my seat and dinner’s been served for my row. The peanut man looks up from eating and asks if he can have my bread roll. I gesture for him to take it all. I sit and doze off again.
When I wake up, I move my jacket, put my computer in the top compartment, and manage to sit back down right when the airplane speaker fills the cabin.
“Merry Christmas everybody. We apologize for the delay in getting you to your friends and family but we will be arriving at Dublin Airport in approximately forty-five minutes. If you need to get up for some reason, please do so now and make your way back to your seat as soon as possible as we are about to begin our descent. Cabin crew, please prepare for landing.”
I don’t necessarily appreciate the reminder that I’m on a plane alone on Christmas, but I am glad there are only forty-five minutes left next to a now snoring peanut man.
A few minutes later the intercom comes on again and the pilot tells us there’s a low of negative seven degrees and a high of three degrees and it takes me a few minutes to figure out what those temperatures amount to in Fahrenheit. Eventually, I get distracted shuffling my travel playlist and am jolted forward when the plane hits the ground.
“Welcome to the Dublin Airport, we hope you all enjoyed flying Delta and hope to have you traveling with us again soon.”
***
Hauling my bag from baggage claim, I grab my phone from my back pocket and copy and paste the address of the Airbnb I’m renting out from my email into maps. Ten-minute car ride or forty-three in public transport. I check the Uber app and find that it’s only 17 euros to get there. I press the confirm button and walk outside. It’s raining heavily and the jacket I’m wearing isn’t equipped for this. I consider walking back inside but the app now says one minute away in flashing bold letters, so I stay where I am, feeling each individual raindrop pierce through me.
After what feels like longer than the minute I was promised, the black Toyota Corolla stops in front of me and the trunk pops open. I throw my suitcase in and unload my backpack from my shoulders to throw in behind before slamming the trunk shut and jumping into the car.
“23 Swift’s Alley Way?” The man asks me in a thick Irish accent.
I have to look down at my phone before confirming.
“Yes?”
“Yes sir, that’s correct.”
“Great, I’ll get you to your family in about 13 minutes.”
I don’t correct him but when our eyes meet in the rearview mirror I realize I don’t need to.
“Are you here visiting family?” He asks carefully, almost pausing in between words.
“Ah no, solo trip.”
“On Christmas?”
“Yeah,” I’m about to continue but he presses on.
“That’s a shame. First timer in Dublin I’m guessing?”
“Yessir.”
“So you don’t know anyone in Ireland?”
Yes, just one.
“No, not really.”
“Well, now you know one.”
Two.
We roll up to the house and I get out of the car to grab my all too soaked bags out of the trunk before he can do something like give me his phone number.
I’m only renting out a room so I ring the doorbell and wait impatiently outside. The rain has stopped but my clothes are still sticking to me with the cold winter air making them feel like sandpaper to my skin.
When a couple of minutes pass I ring the doorbell again and a soft warm voice greets me from the other side.
“Coming, coming. Sorry, I’m quite slow.”
The door opens and from behind it comes out an old lady who seems too fragile to live alone. She pulls me inside and as quickly as the door opened it now closes behind me.
“Welcome, welcome. I assume you’re Jennifer.” I wonder if she always repeats the first word twice.
“Yes, that’s me. Thank you for opening your home up to a traveler, especially during the holidays.”
“Of course, of course.”
She shows me to my room and asks if I’m hungry.
I’m about to politely decline when my stomach betrays me. I curse myself for giving my bread roll to the peanut man.
“Ooo, I can tell that you are.” She says with a chuckle.
“A snack would be great.”
“Oh, no no darling, I’ll make you a plate.”
We walk into the kitchen and she hands me a plate of what she says is beef stew and another of Shepherd’s pie.
“Thank you so much, I really didn’t mean to impose.”
“Nonsense, nonsense. I told my nephew I was too old to make my way over for Christmas dinner so after a while, he let me have my way and just sent them over. I guess he forgets I’m just one person. I’ll be eating leftovers for a week if you don’t help me.”
I laugh making my way out of the kitchen.
“Jennifer darling, come sit at the table. No one should eat Christmas dinner alone.”
“But you did Mrs.— I’m sorry I don’t know your name. The listing didn’t have it.”
“Mrs. O’Connell dear, but you can call me Maisie.”
“But you ate alone, Maisie,” I say her name tentatively not being sure if she meant the calling her by her first name or if she was being polite.
“That I did, but I’ve also lost the only person I truly loved eating with. So sometimes eating alone is better than eating with company that doesn’t measure up. Someday you will understand.”
I finish my dinner in silence and thank her for her kindness. I’ve barely closed the door to my room when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Aunt Jen! Merry Christmas!” The voice of my five-year-old niece booms through the speaker.
“Merry Christmas kiddo—”
“Guess what Santa brought me.”
She tells me about her new dollhouse, a razor scooter, and her new backpack for the coming school term—
“And a baby brother!”
“Wait what?”
“Rosie, give me the phone.”
I’m still silent, trying to figure out if I heard her right when my sister’s voice comes through the phone.
“Surprise! I’m pregnant again.”
“Wow, uh. Wow. That’s um—”
“You know Jen, a congratulations would be nice.”
“No yeah of course, sorry congratulations.” I’m met with silence on the other end.
“Sorry, that was a bit harsh. I just expected a better reaction. How’s uh where’d you go again?”
“Dublin just flew in a couple of hours ago.”
“Dublin, oh Jen please tell me he had nothing to do with this destination.”
“Who?” I lie, if not for her then for me.
“That guy from London a few years back, I don’t believe that it didn’t cross your mind.”
“Yeah, ok I remember. But no, it was just the cheapest flight to Europe.”
“Ok then,” I expect her to press the subject but am not surprised when she doesn’t.
“Well love you and have fun.”
“You guys too, tell Ryan I say hi. Oh, and thanks for calling.”
“Of course, we’re family.”
“Sure, sure.”
***
While getting ready for bed, I let my mind wander to that one night in London. My last one.
I’d been living there for seven months. Seven months of meeting people, individuals, strangers, who eventually stayed just that. They came and went but none seemed important enough to impact my own story. Until that one night at around 11:45 pm:
Plop.
“You gotta down that now,” says an Irish voice before I can react to what just happened.
I look down to see a penny in my pint and then up to meet the eyes of a tall, very good-looking stranger.
“Oh, do I?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, but it’s in the rules.”
“Yeah? And who wrote these rules?”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times before laughing.
“That I actually do not know. But I do know you have to drink it.”
My pint is still full and I know he expects me to argue, or at least flirt with him to get out of it. Instead, I gulp down the Carling until I’m holding the penny in between my top and bottom teeth. I spit the penny out into my hand and turn it over to find what I’m looking for. 1971.
“Ok, so what year?”
“Fuck, you know the rules.”
“I wrote them,” I say with a wink.
“2003.”
“Chug.”
The rest of the time in that pub should’ve been hazy with the number of drinks we had, but I remember everything. I remember the first time I heard his laugh, the first time his hand grazed my leg, and the moment he said: “Let’s get out of here.”
We spent nine hours together. It was a night that we knew would only leave us with stolen kisses and broken promises but we chose to live it all the same. We learned almost everything about each other and then said our goodbyes. It wasn’t until I was in the car on the way to the airport that I realized all I had of him was his phone number and that penny.
***
I wake up the next morning ready to explore Dublin. I look up spots I have to hit on the tourist map and decide I’ll go to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Dublin Castle today.
I leave the Airbnb early, careful to not make too much noise. I don’t want to wake up Maisie. It takes me about twenty minutes of messing with the Transdev machine to finally understand the Luas routes before I buy my pass for the Green Line.
I get on and quickly scan the faces.
Nothing.
I go to those two spots and then spend the day walking around. I go to St. Stephen’s Green and Grafton Street, and in every pub, I enter I let my eyes wander. Both just looking and searching.
I finally make my way back to Maisie’s around seven and am surprised to find a man around my age sitting at the kitchen table. He’s reading Tolstoy and I immediately wonder if it’s for enjoyment or to fulfill that feeling we all wish to accomplish someday of being cultured enough.
He looks up from the words on the page and smiles.
“Jennifer.”
I’m taken aback by him knowing my name so for a second I don’t say anything.
“Oh Sam, that’s not how you introduce yourself to a young woman,” says Maisie walking in with a cane I hadn’t seen her use last night.
“Jennifer, this is my nephew I mentioned to you, Samuel. I was telling him about your solo travels and thought maybe you two could get on. Maybe grab a pint or something at Flannery’s.”
“Oh, nice to meet you, Sam. And I appreciate the offer, but quite frankly I’m too tired from a long day of—”
“Nonsense, nonsense. You shall go and have fun. Right, Sam?”
He smiles and nods.
“Well I think I’m biased here, but I would never say no to a cold Guinness with a girl that looks like you.”
Normally, I would cringe at something like this but when I look up and meet his eyes it dawns on me that he is quite handsome, and I can tell he genuinely meant what he said.
“Ok fuck it. Oh sorry Mrs. O’Connell.”
“Oh darling, do not apologize for cursing in this country. Ever.” And a smile leaves my lips.
“Ok, I’ll just go change.”
***
We make our way to Flannery’s and upon arriving he orders a Guinness for each of us. I’ve never tried it but the malty sweetness of it glides across my tongue and I decide it’s a taste I can get accustomed to. He tells me about his graduate program and I open up and tell him everything about why I’m here, well everything except finding him. I mention losing my scholarship to BU, the fact that my sister is younger than me and married with two kids, and the embarrassment I felt having to spend another Christmas with all of them with nothing to brag about.
He understands me and so when he leans in and his lips touch mine, I let it happen. Normally, I would play the long game but here I have limited time and unlimited possibilities. At some point, he gets up to get another round and I scan and this time, my eyes find something.
Before I realize it, I’m running out of the pub dodging people left and right to catch up to him. I finally do and I grab his shoulder turning him around to face me. I feel my heartbeat in my throat and my body goes numb but when his eyes meet mine they are those of a stranger.
I quickly apologize and head back inside.
“Where’d you go? Did you get a phone call?”
I feel distraught but I reign in my emotions enough to answer him.
“No, just the bathroom. But I couldn’t find it.” I open my mouth again.
“I think I’m ready to leave.”
“Ok, yeah of course. Dropping you at Maisie's or mine?”
He seems tentative but I don’t need to think about it.
“Yours.”
***
And that’s how we spend the next two weeks.
Tonight, he invited me to a party to meet his friends. I get off the Luas and walk a few blocks until I find the address. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and hit his number from my missed calls. I haven’t saved his contact. Maybe I will after tonight.
Ring, ring, ring.
“The number you have dialed is unable”— I hang up the phone and ring him again. He answers after the first one.
“Hello, Jen are you here?” I can barely hear him over the loud music. At least there are a lot of people inside. I can blend into the shadows easily.
I answer that I am in fact outside but don’t feel comfortable just walking in.
“Just come inside, the door is unlocked,” he yells. Exactly what I said I didn’t want to do.
Beep, beep, beep. Call ended.
I grip the bottle of scotch in my hand and walk up the porch steps. It’s an old brick house with a black door and a gold door knob and mail slot to match. The music gets louder in my ears as I approach but when I wrap my hand around the cool knob and begin to turn it the music stops. Immediately, I stop with it but it’s too late. I’ve already pushed slightly forward and a creaking noise is the only one in sight.
I feel my cheeks flush and my vision go blurry but I really have no choice but to commit. I open the door all the way and there are exactly seven people in the room. Three on one couch, four on the other and they all turn to look at me.
“JEN!”
Sam comes out from what seems like a hallway and starts rolling out names so fast I barely have time to grasp them.
“Guys this is Jennifer, the girl I mentioned, and Jen, this is Cindy, Robert, Pam, Matt, Sully, Jess, and Dan.”
“Nice to meet everyone.”
“Oh, you brought a bottle of scotch. Never needed but always appreciated. Why don’t you put it in the kitchen? There are a couple of other people in there you should meet as well.”
Oh god, other people. The seven out here are already enough to make me want to go home, they’re not enough to blend in the shadows.
I walk down the hallway dreading the new interactions but immediately feel better when a blonde pops out of the bathroom before I make it into the kitchen.
“Hey there.”
“Hey I’m Jen, Sam invited me.”
“Oh yes, he mentioned that. You’re living with his aunt?”
“Yes, only for a few weeks, but yes that’s me.”
“Awesome, I’m Kali.”
“Nice to meet you, can you show me where the freezer is for this?” I ask, holding up the scotch bottle.
“Absolutely.”
I follow her down the hallway and thankfully there’s no one else in the kitchen, just about eight cakes on the table.
“Feel free to try any of them, I’m getting married in a few months and I brought these samples over for everyone to help us decide on the flavor,” she says with a grin.
“Oh, congratulations.” And deep down I congratulate myself for saying the right thing this time.
I hand her the cool bottle and she places it carefully in the freezer next to what looks like a Tupperware of old frozen leftovers. She quickly closes the door and asks me if I want anything to drink myself.
“Maybe some of that would actually be great.”
She motions to the door she just closed and I nod. She opens it back up and pulls out the same bottle I just handed her and hands it back to me.
“Why don’t you take this and pop it open? I’ll go ask everyone in the living room if they want some or if anyone needs a Guinness refill.”
“Alright, then.”
I open it and set it down on the counter. I don’t have a glass though, and after looking around the sink for one I begin to open the cabinets.
“Glasses are in the top left.”
I don’t need to turn around to know it’s his.
The only voice I’d know here.
After a second, I do. Turn around. Our eyes meet and it seems like a million conversations are exchanged without either of us opening our mouths. Or maybe it’s just me trying to tell him everything with one look.
I turn back around and open the top left cabinet to find the glasses. I grab a hold of one and hesitate before grabbing another.
“You want some?” I ask him motioning to the bottle of scotch on the counter across from him.
He nods.
I pour our drinks in silence and then turn back around to hand him one. Our hands graze and he smiles, but it’s almost an ironic smile like he can’t believe this is his life right now.
He asks me if I want to go outside, that the air is cooler and it might be easier to breathe out there. I chuckle at this but just nod toward the door.
We walk out into the cool night air and I hug my jacket to myself in a valiant effort to stay warm.
“You cold?— We can go back inside.”
“No, no this is fine.”
“You still—?” He asks, holding up a pack of tobacco that I know holds hand-rolled cigarettes inside. I let my mind wander to him rolling them like he did that night in bed after we finished doing everything else to each other. His hands carefully rolling the tobacco in between the paper, his tongue gliding across the edge—
“Jen?” Hearing him say my name brings me back to reality. He still remembers it. After all this time.
“Yes, yes. I’ll take one.” Now, I’m the one repeating every first word twice.
He opens the pack and hands me one but when I reach to grab it he pulls it back and changes it for another one.
“Here, this one's better.” I take it from his fingers and pretend to inspect it.
“Well, your rolling abilities have certainly improved since that night.” I say with a chuckle.
“So we’re opening that door?” He doesn't even crack a smile.
“You opened it when you remembered my name.”
He lights his cigarette and holds his breath for a long time before letting it out.
“Of course, I remember your fucking name, Jen, it was all you left me.” The silence after this sentence is so loud, all I can hear is Mr. Brightside playing loudly inside with everyone’s voices echoing the chorus.
I hold my cigarette up in the air before putting it into my mouth, in a motion to borrow his lighter. Instead of handing it over, he puts his cigarette between his teeth and comes close enough so the tips touch. Without meaning to yet, my breath hitches and the hot smoke hits my throat burning my esophagus. I recover without letting him know what he just made me feel and start pacing away from him looking up at the sky.
“I tried to look for you. I did.” He pauses. “But it’s damn hard to find someone when all you have is Jen from Massachusetts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? For leaving? Or for not coming back?”
I want to say so many things. To tell him how many dates I’ve been on in the past three years just to end up measuring the guys up to him. How many times I tried to press call but was met with the reality of an ocean between us? How many times I tried to book this flight in the past but how I was too afraid of what I might find? How at every street corner for the past two weeks I’ve been hoping it would be him on the other side of the crosswalk.
“For everything. But to answer your questions, yes. I’m here now.”
“But you weren’t really trying to find me were you?”
I open my mouth to tell him that yes, I have been. I have been for the past three years. That I had never stopped. That I’d just been scared of actually succeeding yet failing at the same time. But before I can say it the door creaks behind me and I snap my mouth closed.
We both turn towards it. It’s Kali and I smile at her.
“Hey babe, are you ready to go?”
“Babe?” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud but she answers.
“Ah sorry Jen, I was talking to Matt. I see you’ve met my fiancé. Sorry I missed introductions, we were having a heated carrot cake to chocolate debate inside.”
“I—”
“It was nice very nice to meet you, I have told Sam you can be his plus one to the wedding if you’re still around yeah? Darling, I’ll wait for you inside. It’s freezing out here geez.” She shivers briefly before going back inside and letting the door slam behind her.
I’m stunned. I open my mouth and close it several times but nothing comes out.
“You’re too late.” He takes one last puff of his cigarette and drops it on the grass before stepping on it. He pulls something out of his jacket pocket and as he walks past me, without meeting my eyes he drops it into my glass.
“The year is 2006.” And the door slams shut now behind him.
I down the shot of scotch to be left with the taste of the rusty metal on my tongue. He’s gone, for real this time. The door opens and I turn around with every hope that it’s him. That every mistake I’ve made he knows how to correct.
But it’s Sam. Just Sam.
“Hey, are you ready to head back to my place?”
I look at him, really look at him. And for a moment I wonder if I could be happy with him. If he’s the person I can share my meals with. If he could ever measure up. The answer is no.
I toss the penny to him.
“Sure, let’s go.”
