“Excuse me, do you have any water?” I asked the kid. Based upon his complacent reaction, he’d seen worse in this establishment.
He pulled out a plastic cup and advised me to fill it from the bathroom. Under normal circumstances, I would have thrown him a disgusted glare, imagining the grime coated sink, but I was frantic for liquid and too confused to care. Think, Rory. What the hell happened last night?
I walked to the bathroom, filled the tiny plastic cup, and helped myself to refills until my stomach shuddered like a stormy sea. The cold water raced down my esophagus and landed in my sour belly with a splash.
Visions from the night before zipped past me, creating a blur of music and color. The pub crawl was something I remembered. I tried bringing up the aesthetic of each pub to count on my fingers how many drinks I’d had, but my recollection was murky. I remembered telling myself that I would flirt with Owen, but that was short-lived and I had decided to kick back and have fun with Jaime instead. Images of myself dancing the Irish jig in the center of a circle formed, and I cringed at my sloppiness. I saw myself fall into a guy’s arms but didn’t know who. My lips crashed into someone’s lips, and my breath caught in my chest. Who was that? I didn’t remember coming home.
Returning to the worn armchair, I stared into the city street, and watched the people of Dublin go on with their busy lives. I wanted to be out there, mixed in with the crowd like a Where’s Waldo picture, so no one could find me.
“Excuse me,” I heard a voice croak. “Do you want some tea? It looks like you can use it.”
I closed my eyes, willing my body to morph into the pillow I was holding on my lap, and turned my head. The boy behind the counter had pulled his chair next to mine and stared at me with curious eyes.
“Sure, thank you.”
“Rough night?” He handed me a delicate tea cup with blue and purple flowers next to a small ceramic teapot filled with steamy water. A tea bag sat inside, and I hurried to get the tea brewed so I could boil my throat with the bittersweet drink.
One side of my face tensed, and I threw my head back against the chair cushions. “It was a doozy.” I can still feel Owen’s body next to me.
“Ah, Halloween can be wild, ya know. Lots of alcohol leads to lots of choices, and maybe some mistakes. But like me mammy says, there’s nothing so bad it couldn’t be worse.” He rose from the chair across from me and disappeared behind the wooden door.
I squinted after him, confused by his extrovertish advice despite his young age. Blinking a few times to wipe away my headache, I scrunched my forehead. Returning to the window and holding my steamy cup, I watched the lives of Dubliners move past me. I would give anything to be any one of them right now.
Dragged away from my daydream, Marissa’s cheery voice interrupted my solo pity party. “Rory, there you are!” Her disheveled hair resembled Frankenstein’s wife, and Zoey stood beside her with sour skin and bloodshot eyes.
“Did you have fun last night?” I asked my teacup. The spoon swirled the liquid like a whirlpool. Marissa nodded. “Where’d you get that tea?”
“Ah, the guy at the counter.” I nodded to my right.
“I’ll be right back.”
Marissa returned with two steaming cups and handed one to Zoey.
“How was last night?” I asked again, hating that my question sounded like I hadn’t been there. In a way, I hadn’t. The entire night had disappeared from my mind, and I was hoping she could provide some insight into what happened.
“It was wild. How much do you remember?”
I pulled my lips back and felt tears form behind my eyes, promising to never drink that much again. “Um,” my voice quivered, “I think I remember getting food, a little step dancing, and coming up with the brilliant idea of crawling through the pubs.” My stomach turned again, and I hugged my abdomen.
Zoey sat on the edge of her seat, blowing on the teacup. “Do you remember dancing at the bar?”
My eyes widened, and I placed my forehead in my hand. So that flash of memory was true. “Not really.”
“Yeah, you and Aoife were dancing queens. The two of you had a dance-off at the end of the night.”
Marissa added, “You were pretty wasted by then.”
Zoey continued. “You both were dancing to trad music. Obviously, Aoife won. Why wouldn’t she? She’s Irish.”
Marissa threw a warning glance at Zoey, but I caught it.
“Wait. Why the look?” I asked.
“No look,” Marissa said, glaring at Zoey.
“No look,” Zoey echoed.
I pushed myself forward, my head feeling heavy. “Yes, look. I saw it. Tell me.”
