‘Even this mad one of mine?’ he asks me, unsure. ‘He’s not long over a thorn removal in his back paw so he’s a bit fresh.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I manage. This is preposterous, I need to pull myself together. So he has some kind of wild magnetism and he’s just overwhelmed me, that’s all.
‘Red here is my best pal. I can always trust Red. But you? Well now that’s a different story.’ He pulls his hood down and although I’m aware of the sarcasm in his voice I’m even more lost for words. I try not to focus on his jet black, unruly hairas he runs his hand through the front of it. He is so incredibly handsome, it’s utterly unnerving. Rubbing my hands together to steady my nerves I tell myself: You’re sworn off love for life, remember?
‘Well, who are you anyway?’ is what I say instead. I’m aware it sounds abrupt and rude but it’s all I have right now.
‘Sorry? What?’ He cups his hand behind his ear.
‘I said who are you?’ I repeat way louder than necessary. I can’t seem to control this fluttering sensation in my stomach.
‘Who am I?’ He stands up tall, rolls those broad shoulders back, shaking his head at what I’m assuming is his reaction to my perceived rudeness. ‘I’m not having much luck this week that’s who I am.’ A sudden sadness permeates his voice and his shoulders drop. An immediate sense of unease comes over me for him. ‘I was just about to sell that car you mangled.’ Red moves to him, sits panting as he rubs the dog’s head.
‘It was an accident. I’m sorry .?.?.’ I watch him, absentmindedly twisting the Claddagh ring on my finger.
‘Not as sorry as I am.’ He shoves his hands deep into his wax jacket pockets, dragging the coat down lower, looking like the weight of the world has suddenly fallen on him.
‘Well, I’m from New York .?.?. city.’ I can’t seem to string a coherent sentence together as the dog barks at me again.
‘I’m not sure that’s a reasonable excuse?’ He slaps his thigh to get the dog’s attention.
I’m well aware of his sarcastic banter, which normally I would love, but I’m too shy and out of sorts to play back with this stranger. Of course, when I get into my room I’ll think of twenty clever comebacks. I’ll kick myself.
‘Red! Settle, boy. So, a hit and run, was that your plan?’ Is he still being tongue-in-cheek I wonder as he steps back, eyeballing me now.
‘I was not .?.?.’ I feel myself revert into my timidness and myhead bows low. I just want to get to my room. I need to get away from him.
‘So, you weren’t backing out the door without reporting the crash?’
‘No, I-I .?.?.’ My cheeks burn red and all words desert me. I’m that dolphin swimming away from danger.
‘A change of heart perhaps? Protecting your wallet? Well, I’ve an empty wallet I need to protect too.’ He claps his hand against his green boots now and the dog stops barking but settles by my side, panting heavily. Now I can’t tell if he’s joking or serious. ‘Don’t try to pull one over on me, I’m not in the mood.’ He snaps those words at me.
But something in me shifts.
I feel it start in the tips of my toes and gallop to the top of my head.
I look around.
It’s like I can hear my mom in one ear and Jill in the other. I see all those younger women in work, less qualified, pass me by for promotion while I sat back and said nothing. I see Salma asking me to grab her a matcha. Those mean girls in school who teased me mercilessly about my red hair. I remember my promise to myself, just a few days ago, that no person was going to get the better of me anymore. Images of all the self-help books on my bedside locker float behind my eyes. I think of all the work I’ve been doing on myself to be stronger.
All my life, I’ve been this dolphin swimming with the tide of non-confrontation. Well not anymore. This man – whoever the hell he is – has just brought back my crippling shyness. But at the same time, he has somehow unleashed the confidence inside me that I’ve been waiting to get out. Standing in front of him, I feel different all of a sudden. Powerful, somehow. I am about to stand up for myself. Bat back. Maybe it’s being in a new country. Maybe it’s Ireland. Maybe it’s Castlemoon. Maybe it’s my roots.Maybe it’s the strong stone walls and the thoughts of what it must have taken to build this castle and live in such a place generations ago. Life was tough. Now I feel tough. Now I feel seen. Now I feel confident. Now I’m about to let go!
EIGHT
‘Actually, no!’ I cross my arms indignantly. I’m not saying my heart isn’t racing behind my ribs because it is.
‘Is that so?’ He crosses his arms too. My MacBook looks so small tucked safely under his arm.
‘It is actually. I wasn’t running away. I came straight in to find the owner when I wasattackedby your dog, so I resent that accusation, sir!’ This feels good. This feels like I always imagined it would. How dare he? I am as honest as the day is long. He crosses one leg over the other now and I notice the sudden amused curl of his generous lips.
‘Well now, I dispute that fact, Miss. I was watching you on the CCTV in the office, you didn’t approach Mary at all,’ he says as those dark eyes dip to my hands.
‘Mary? Who’s Mary?’ I ask. This is like an episode ofThe Twilight Zonethat my mom watches re-runs of on cable TV.
‘I’m Mary.’ My head spins to see an older woman with short grey hair standing behind the mahogany reception desk at the far end of the entrance hall. She’s dressed in a light blue uniform with a bright yellow tie, watching on in amusement, a large mug in between both her hands.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t sprint to the desk, I’d only stepped in. I was taking a look around because I’m here to wri—’
