Shadow Play

8

As much as I wanted this job and as excited as I had been about this amazing opportunity, if I met one more strange man in this country, I was going to have to tuck tail and run back to the States. What was wrong with these people? Was it me? Did I attract the crazies? Prior to arriving in Ireland, I hadn’t noticed a particular abundance of lunatics being drawn to me, and living in New York City there was plenty of opportunity. Just a couple of days in Ireland and I was a veritable Pied Piper luring every whack-job in the city. I’d had three long-term boyfriends, each relationship fizzling out naturally with little drama or angst. The men I’d dated were good guys; however, for one reason or another, none had been quite the right fit for me to think of as a forever kind of thing. The first was a high school sweetheart who didn’t survive the move to college. There was Matt, the art major at Williams College and Justin the investment banker in New York. I enjoyed my time with each of them, but my interest waned and as a testament to their quality of character and our lackluster relationships, I was able to remain friends with both of them. At no point in my past, that I could recall, did I find myself surrounded by the number of lunatics that seemed to be flocking to me since arriving in Belfast. I did my best to explain away the incidents as coincidence and continued on my errand. I picked up the supplies that I needed for chicken piccata, one of my favorites, along with a bottle of wine and some fresh cookies from the bakery next door. I had a sizable sweet tooth and was adamant that every good meal be topped off with a treat. Fortunately, my metabolism and the large amount of walking I did each day had always kept the calories from being a problem. I’ve always been a firm believer that you never know what tomorrow brings, if presented with the choice, you should always eat dessert. As I left the store I tucked my chin into my coat collar and my body curled in against the cold. Most of my jobs back in New York had required me to be on my feet, and I never had a car in the city so I wasn’t totally unprepared for my day of walking the museum, but the subsiding adrenaline rush from my confrontation had left me feeling drained. I headed home, excited to catch up with Ashley and relax with my best friend. Back at the apartment, I put away the groceries, changed into lounge pants and a soft t-shirt, and poured myself a glass of wine. Ash had not returned from the tourist activities she had planned for the day, so I was able to have some quiet time to start preparing dinner. I shuffled one of my Spotify playlists and sliced the chicken into fillets as the first strains of Kaleo’s Way Down We Go started to play. The song’s lyrics sent my mind back to that dark sidewalk thinking about the strange, beautiful man. He didn’t seem particularly crazy except for the fact that he kept insisting we knew each other. If he had been remotely light hearted about it, I would have believed it was a pickup line, but there was no mistaking his intentions and they were not remotely romantic. If anything, he seemed puzzled or annoyed, from what little I could tell of his stoic expression. Maybe I had a doppelganger running around Belfast somewhere. If so, I hoped the crazies would start chasing her instead. I wondered what he had meant by we are most certainly not done here. Whatever it was, it made me want to buy pepper spray. In the meantime, I focused on my task as the next song played and I tried to rid my mind of those haunting eyes. Not long after, Ash came into the apartment, beaming. “How was your first day? Tell me all about it!” She threw down her coat and bags, making her way to the wine bottle on the counter. “It was great. Fergus was just the same in person as he had been on the phone.” I gave Ash a rundown of my first day at work as I continued cooking our dinner. “Bec, I’m so happy for you! I can’t believe that just a couple weeks ago you were taking orders in a no-name restaurant and now, look at you. You’re a part of a museum and doing work that you love.” She had pulled over a dining chair and sat with pride on her face as her eyes became suspiciously glassy. “Don’t you dare start crying on me, you know I hate that watery stuff. Tell me about your day.” “Yeah, yeah,” she said on a laugh. “Let’s see, I took a guided tour in a taxi of all these amazing murals around the city—it’s right up your alley, you definitely have to do it once you have a chance. Then, I visited the Titanic Belfast and let me tell you how cool this place was.” She launched into a description of not only the exhibits inside the Titanic, but also the building itself, which was reportedly a structural work of art. While she talked, I set the tiny table, which barely fit two people, but that was all I needed and it was the perfect setting to catch up with my bestie. After we had both recounted all of the new artwork, exhibits, and sites we had seen that day, I decided to mention the two odd encounters from earlier. “On a different note, I met two more delightful Irishmen today. Not as creepy as Airport Man, but I’m thinking the men here may not be all there in the head.”