My Life in Shambles(8)

“Because it’s no longer the issue.”

“What’s the issue?” I ask.

He licks his lips. “I have some suspicions. Some concerns that might be unrelated to the concussion. I think we’re going to have to run another MRI and have a closer look.”

A cold sinking feeling forms in my chest. “A closer look at what?”

The tight smile on the doctor’s face fades before he gives me his answer.





4





Valerie





“This was a huge mistake,” I mumble into my hands, my eyes pinched shut.

Suddenly the carriage jerks to the left and my head goes conking into Angie’s.

“It’s an adventure!” Sandra squeals loudly.

“You call dying in a horse-drawn carriage an adventure?” I yell.

“You just said your New Year’s resolution was to say yes to new adventures,” Angie says. “Which I didn’t think would include this.”

By this, she means the fact that after a tour of the Guinness brewery here in Dublin, we decided to take a horse-drawn cart into the Temple Bar area where we planned to spend our New Year’s Eve. I just didn’t think the cart would be so tiny, the horse would go so fast, and that the sky would start dumping wet snow on us, making the carriage slip and slide in every direction.

“Actually, I believe Val’s resolution was just to say yes more, starting with saying yes to everything for the next few days,” Sandra says and then giggles as the cart rounds another corner, nearly taking out a car, and the three of us go banging into each other again like we’re on some sort of amusement park ride. My back is killing me, especially after the plane ride, but I manage to swallow down the pain.

“Since when do New Year’s resolutions start on the thirty-first?” I point out.

“Actually, I think your resolution started when you decided to come with us. Aren’t you glad you did?” Angie asks, squealing as the horse comes to a dramatic stop.

The three of us burst out laughing from relief and drunk from the Guinness (not the paltry samples, we hit up the bar in the factory after) and clamber out of the carriage. We profusely thank the grumpy driver for not killing us and I take a moment to make sure the horse is okay with all this, and then I tip the driver extra for the sake of the horse, even though tips aren’t common here. I tell him to spend it all on apples but I’m not sure he heard me.

The last twenty-four hours have been as crazy as this carriage ride. I wasn’t able to get a seat with my sisters but I was able to get on the same plane. I may have been a bit grumpy that I was back in coach and they were up in first class, sleeping away the flight with their beds and free champagne but it didn’t really matter.

The truth was, I didn’t sleep a wink on my flight and it had nothing to do with the screaming baby next to me or the upright seats.

I was too afraid. Now, I’ve always been afraid of this and that and what Sandra had said about me was true. But this was an honest to god legit fear which then bled into incessant worry.

Would I be able to freelance while I was there?

Shouldn’t I be in one place looking for another job and not spending money?

What life am I returning to when I get back? Where will I live?

Am I not being the most irresponsible person on earth right now?

What if Cole finds out, and would that jeopardize any chance of us getting back together?

That last worry made me angry, which also isn’t a good sleeping aid.

By the time we landed in Dublin, I was a sleep-deprived, jet-lagged, nervous wreck. It was also early and we couldn’t check into the hotel yet, so we spent the time wandering around the city. My sisters were jet-lagged too but well-rested and oohing and ahhing over everything, and I just wanted to crawl under a bench somewhere and never wake up.

Luckily I was able to stay up until the evening when I promptly went to bed and my sisters went out to enjoy the nightlife.

Today I’m still jet-lagged and groggy, and everything that happened yesterday feels like a total dream, as if it happened to someone else, but at least I’m functioning. It helps that it’s New Year’s Eve and there’s an infectious buzz in this city, a place that I’m slowly opening my eyes to.

I mean, fuck. I’m in Dublin, Ireland. I’ve been to London once, during the summer right after graduating, but I didn’t do much there but drink cheap pints at dodgy pubs and complain about how expensive everything was. I feel like this trip is my first one overseas as an adult.

Okay, so that’s a bit of a lie. I may be twenty-four years old but I don’t feel even remotely like an adult, especially not now. Maybe a month ago I would have said yes but in the last week it’s like my adult card has been revoked, as if the universe decided I wasn’t ready for it yet.

“Which pub do we want to go in first?” Angie asks as we stroll up the cold and slippery cobblestone street dotted with slush. It’s hard to hear her over the insanely drunk and noisy tourists who are mobbing the area and the live Irish music that seems to be spilling from every single pub.

And there are a ton of pubs everywhere you look. It’s like Disneyland but replace every child with a drunk tourist holding a flat beer and that’s what this is.

To be honest, it’s kind of hell and I can tell from the looks on my sisters’ faces, especially as some drunk guy nearly body checks Sandra as he’s walking past, spilling beer on her boots, that they think the same.