But she cut Bonnie off before she could begin the self-esteem pep talk. “It felt good sitting there, pressed up against him. And the more I drank, the more I could have just stayed there all….”
“I hope that’s not all you wanted,” Bonnie smirked.
Penny took another sip of her coffee as she contemplated this. “I guess I can’t help feeling that’s all it was—lust, possibly. But there was no real connection with us—nothing deeper.”
“But what happened?”
“Well… he got a phone call. He happens to be the manager of the bar, Clint’s, actually. Someone didn’t show up for their shift, and he had to cover for them. I went back to wait for him. And then….”
“Yes? Then?”
“I think I fell asleep. I don’t even remember getting home.” A faint memory tugged at her, and she tried to concentrate on it. “Wait, no, he must have brought me home. I kind of remember being carried in and helped up the stairs. Anyway,” she waved away the fuzzy thought, “nothing happened.”
“But maybe something could,” Bonnie persisted.
Penny shrugged a noncommittal, “Maybe.”
“Penny, he doesn’t have to be The One. You're always looking for the perfect guy—this other half. Maybe that doesn’t exist for any of us. Maybe we just need to take advantage of having fun when we can. Seamus could just be fun. There’s nothing wrong with that. I mean, we’re only here for ten weeks. Why not just make the most of it? Then go home, and you’ll have had an adventure.”
“I don’t know,” Penny sighed. “I don’t know if it’s in me just to have a fling. I don’t know if that’s how I work.”
“Well, I think it might be what I need. Not yet,” she added hurriedly. “But maybe….”
The computer Bonnie had pushed aside when Penny joined her made a noise. “Anyway, think about it. In the meantime, I’vegot to get some work done before we head away with Finn next weekend.”
“Right.” Penny dragged herself up from the couch. “I’m going for a run then. I really need to clear my head and get myself back into some kind of a routine.”
“Good luck with that.” Bonnie looked towards the window. “Looks like the rain is taking a break. Better go quick before it starts again.”
After a quick stretch, Penelope walked to the end of the drive. Turning right, she headed towards the path Bonnie had told her would lead to the river. If she was going to try this having fun thing with Seamus, she was going to want to look her best. He was definitely in a different league. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure why he liked her.
But he did, she reminded herself. She’d seen the eager look in his eyes. It wasn’t just her who was feeling something.
Could she really do what Bonnie was saying, though? Could she just have fun with him? Be physical with someone just for the sake of it? Not because there was more. Because unless the first date had been a total fluke, there really wasn’t any chemistry between them besides the physical. She had basically been used that way before, used and discarded. But if it was mutual….
Penelope reached for the air pods she’d put in her pocket and then her phone. Finding her running mix, she turned up the music. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t have to. If this was her adventure, she could choose how it went. Right now, she just wanted to run.
It wasn’t that she was avoiding Clint’s, Penelope told herself, as much as she was trying to orient herself. And she refused to come across as desperate. If he had taken her home, then heknew where she lived. Let him come looking for her. She didn’t need some guy to show her around anyway. She was a grown woman. She was perfectly capable of finding things to do on her own while Bonnie caught up on her work.
So that’s exactly what she did. Being someone used to a routine, she started her mornings when it wasn’t raining with a run; on those days when it was raining, she did yoga. Her story of a brave girl in Ireland continued in her journal, and she found herself enjoying it, digging deeper into the character and her descriptions. Then, in the afternoons, she Googled places to visit.
She found her way to the University College of Cork, a beautiful campus with imposing gray stone buildings that she assumed were hundreds of years old. She was surprised to find out it was actually established in 1845—only ten years earlier than Michigan State University.
Her next trip to the Cork City Gaol, the old jail, was less beautiful, more horrific as she discovered the conditions people were kept in. Most were arrested due to poverty, not bad intentions. She began to learn more about the famine and what it must have been like to live in a country where emigration was the primary focus, rather than immigration. The idea of being forced to leave your family and the only place you knew to make some kind of a living hit her hard. There was also a cell you could “lock” yourself into to get the feel of what it was like. A sack of straw to sleep on, on a cold stone floor, a blanket that wouldn’t keep you warm in a heated house, never mind the drafty old building, a tin bucket for your toilet, and a room the size of a tiny box. She didn’t last two minutes.
Her favorite place, though, was The English Market. She found her way back easily enough. Entering by The Mutton Lane, she shut out memories of her last visit there, only realizing when she was leaving that there were many entrances to choosefrom. Her eyes popped at all the mouth-watering things to choose from. The stalls, one after another, had so many options, from pastries to cheeses, meats, and spices. The press of people moving through pushed her along. She wanted to see everything before she retraced her steps, standing her ground more firmly when she wanted to purchase something. She went home that night with olives from the olive stand, where they were ladled into a bag with an old school wooden ladle, hummus, fresh vegetables, and the freshest, nicest piece of cod she’d ever seen. She was finally able to put their amazing kitchen to good use.
Every night, she and Bonnie sat down to a shared bottle of wine. She would tell her about her day, laughing at her missteps, or more accurately, her misunderstandings most of the time, as she was still trying to pin down the accent.
Penelope tried not to worry about the fact that Bonnie wasn’t leaving the house. In fact, she wasn’t even on her phone, which was extremely odd for her. Instead, she focused on work until Penny came home every day. Then, she lived vicariously through her friend, perking up enough to ask questions about her daily adventure. The weekend loomed ahead, though, and Bonnie promised she’d be ready for it when it came.
At least twice a week, Penny also got calls from her parents, checking in on her. Due to the time difference, it was easier for them to call her. She enjoyed relaying what new things she’d learned and discovered. It was like their old summer trips all over again, only much farther away, and learning about a different country’s history.
The artist in her mom asked for lengthy descriptions of everything. Her more practical dad was concerned that the areas she was in were safe and that she was watching her spending.
“Yes, Dad. Honestly, other than food and a few bits and bobs, I’m not spending much. Although I haven’t hit the bookstores yet.”
“Remember the size of your suitcase,” Martha warned, knowing her daughter’s proclivity for buying more books than she needed.
