Pull At My Heart

by Ellie Malouff

  “Okay,” I say to nobody. I hope I haven’t made a big mistake. I watch Eoghan again. He’s so smooth with her and a part of me wishes it was me, but we’re just friends. He said it himself. And he clearly doesn’t want to get involved with his roommate.

  Song after song goes on and every time I glance over at Eoghan, he’s talking to someone, usually a pretty girl, and he’s smiling. Christ. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to need to rein in these troublesome feelings. I decide that it’s time to catch a cab back to the hotel. I down my Murphy’s like one of the lads at a stag party and weave my way out of the pub to hail a cab back to my hotel.

  Before going back into my room, I decide to get a whiskey at the bar. I need one more drink to take the edge off. I also need time to formulate a plan. How on earth am I going to tell my dad that I’m moving into an apartment above a pub with a man I met three days ago? It sounds completely reckless and foolish, but there’s something about Eoghan that makes me feel safe, not that I would ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

  The whiskey goes down slowly and I’m growing increasingly comfortable with it. I really am becoming a Corkonian. I’m paying my bill when a rowdy group of men come into the hotel bar. It’s Aiden and his friends from the stag party.

  He slurs a hello and stumbles over to me.

  “Aiden, hey, what are you doing here?”

  “This is where we’re staying,” he says. “What are you drinking?”

  “Jameson.”

  “Look at you. I’ll have a gin on the rocks,” he tells the bartender.

  “Are you sure you should have another?”

  He scoffs. “I could have the bottle and be fine.”

  “Right.” I don’t believe a word of it.

  We clink glasses. “Sláinte,” he says, and I don’t say anything since I don’t know what that means. We both take a long slow sip and it burns so good.

  “You’re looking well tonight, Jules,” he says and takes a step closer to me. I should take a step away, but I don’t want to offend him. He takes another sip of his drink and then brushes some hair off my shoulder, exposing quite a bit of skin. The move is unexpected and I freeze in place.

  “Really well,” he whispers into my ear and my lips part. He’s headed down a slippery slope. I try my best to hold on to what control I do have so I can get out of here. I finish my drink, faster than I should, and then say, “Goodnight, Aiden.”

  “Wait, can I walk you?” he asks. Assuming he means that he’ll walk me to the elevators just like he did on that first night, I nod.

  He throws some money on the bar, finishes his drink in one long smooth sip, and puts the glass down a little too hard. We walk out, side-by-side, and he places his hand on my lower back. Slowly, he inches it around my waist, so that we’re hip to hip.

  Maybe he needs a little support, like back at the pub? That must be it.

  When we get to the elevator, he taps the up arrow, just like last time. I assume this is where we part ways but when the elevator doors open, he leads me in and asks for my floor number.

  “Five,” I hear myself answering, instead of telling him that this is where I’ll be leaving him.

  “Me too,” he says, and runs his key card through the swipe to make the elevator go to our floor, never taking his arm off me.

  As the doors close and we begin to ascend, he turns me away from the railing and presses me back up against it. “I’m glad you came to Ireland,” he says, our faces mere inches apart.

  “You’re so drunk,” I tell him, trying to ring some sort of bell that will make him back up.

  The fifth floor comes quickly, thank God, and we get out just as we got in, with his hand on my hip.

  “Which room?” he asks.

  My heartbeat quadruples in speed. “505.”

  I try to take a step away from him, but he tightens his grip. We get to my room and I turn within his grasp to face him. “Thank you for walking me, Aiden.”

  “My pleasure,” he says, and then presses me against the door and rests his forehead against mine. His eyes are glazed over. “It’s true, I’m a little sloshed,” he confesses.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Will you forgive me for this tomorrow?”

  “For what, being drunk?”

  “No, for this,” he says and kisses me. Soft at first and a little bit sloppy. I can’t believe he’s kissing me. All the beer and whiskey have thrashed my senses, because I don’t stop it right away. He wraps his arms around my body and pulls me closer to him as his lips part and his tongue urges mine to part as well. I give in because I don’t know how to make it stop. His tongue sweeps into my mouth. All I can taste is gin and all I can feel is him, everywhere all over me. It’s suffocating.

  “Can I come in?” he murmurs against my mouth.

  And that’s what breaks me. He’s my boss. This should not be happening. I start to shake my head and gently press him back.

  As we separate, he looks upset but I know if I can just get through this moment with him on one side of the door and me on the other, it will be a victory.

  His face softens and he runs his hand through his hair. “Shit, Julie, I’m sorry. I’m totally smashed.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’m sorry,” I say and start fumbling for my room key in my purse. I have to get out of this moment.

  “Emm…can we pretend this didn’t happen?” he asks.

  A part of me is relieved and another part feels unexpectedly rejected, which makes no sense. “Yeah, sure Aiden. It’s no big deal. No one will ever know.”

  “Thanks,” he says, and I get increasingly annoyed. Isn’t my reputation more at risk? It certainly feels that way. I slide my room key in and out of the slot and the light turns green.

  “Have a good night, Aiden. See you Monday.”

  “Yeah, you too,” he says and then lingers a little bit.

  “Goodnight,” I say again and close the door.

  I wish I could actually claim victory, but it sure doesn’t feel like it. I lean against the door and slide down to the floor. I can’t believe my boss kissed me and I let him. All kinds of emotions bubble up within me and I’m filled with an incredible amount of self-doubt about why I got promoted. I shake it off somehow. I know I’m good at what I do. I’ve always been good at this. He was just drunk and he probably really regrets his actions. I severely doubt he’ll ever do something like that again.

  This is certainly going to make for an interesting first day of work on Monday.

  I get up and quickly change into my pajamas and wash all my makeup off. I crawl into bed and shut my eyes to keep the room from spinning.

  My phone chirps from the nightstand and I groan, assuming it’s Aiden, but it’s not. It’s Eoghan.

  Eoghan Murrough: You left once again without saying goodbye.

  Julie Rodriguez: You were working once again.

  Eoghan Murrough: Well, it’s my pub, lass.

  Julie Rodriguez: So what are you doing now?

  Eoghan Murrough: Lying on our couch.

  That makes me smile. It’s still unreal that we’re going to be living together.

  Julie Rodriguez: Good thing I didn’t already have a couch.

  Eoghan Murrough: Good thing.

  Julie Rodriguez: Do you snore?

  Eoghan Murrough: No. Do you leave toothpaste in the sink?

  Never, I reply and I can’t contain my goofy grin. Quickly, before he can ask something else, I text him back.

  Julie Rodriguez: Can I stock the fridge with Guinness?

  Eoghan is proving to be the perfect distraction so that I won’t dwell on the stupid thing my boss just did. I wait for his reply and am practically in tears from laughing so hard at my silly joke. I definitely had too much to drink.

  Eoghan Murrough: Watch yourself, lassie.

  Julie Rodriguez: Or what?

  Eoghan Murrough: Or you’ll be out on the street, or worse, living in Ballycoom.

  Julie Rodriguez: How could yo
u?

  Eoghan Murrough: You drove me to it. Hey, did you get home all right tonight?

  Julie Rodriguez: Yeah, I took a cab.

  Eoghan Murrough: Okay, glad to hear it. Was worried you walked.

  It’s quiet between us for a moment and I yawn. I decide it’s the right time to sign off.

  Julie Rodriguez: Goodnight, Eoghan.

  Eoghan Murrough: Oíche mhaith agus codladh sámh, Juliana.

  Julie Rodriguez: Translation?

  Eoghan Murrough: Goodnight and sleep well, Juliana.

  I smile at his sweet sentiment and then copy his text.

  Julie Rodriguez: Oíche mhaith agus codladh sámh, Eoghan.

  Roommates

  Eoghan

  “In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit.” Father Gleeson leads the congregation and I do my bit just like I’ve done thousands of times before. To say I’m going through the motions is an understatement.

  The day got off to a hellacious start. I was right on time to pick up my mam, but she was barely put together. Dad apparently snuck into the house last night. He only stayed long enough to grab something from his dresser drawers and head back out. Mam slept through most of it, but Seán was there and tried to talk to him. The old bugger didn’t have a word to say back. He shoved him out of the way and left without giving any indication of where he’s been or where he’s going. At least we know he’s not dead in a ditch.

  Mam’s been crying all morning, praying for him. That’s always been the case. She can’t see him for what he is. She blames everyone but him for his shortcomings. Emotion overcomes her during Father Gleeson’s homily on Matthew’s “no one can serve two masters” gospel. She grips on to my arm like a vice and a variety of emotions rush through me. Self-pity, hopelessness, and so much anger. I’ve got to mentally check out before I lose it. Desperately my mind searches for anything good to latch on to. Juliana’s gorgeous face pops up. She’s so feckin’ pretty and those rich brown eyes are just too much for me sometimes. I feel like they pierce my heart every time they connect with mine. Imagining her really does make me feel better. She’s funny and feisty and someone that I desperately want to be around, even if we have to keep it on the friend level. That’s going to be so hard, but I’ll try my feckin’ best to do so.

  In less than twelve hours, I’ll be helping Juliana move into my flat.

  The idea still thrills me in the morning light. It’s too bad I feel like I’ve got to climb a steep hill to get through this day.

  Julie

  Eoghan is five minutes late and I’m worried that maybe he changed his mind and realized what a stupid deal he made to let me move in and cramp his style for a measly six hundred euros a month. Maybe I’ll have to live in Ballycoom after all.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I assume it’s Eoghan, but it turns out to be my dad.

  Shit.

  All day I’ve been working up the courage to tell him about my new living situation. I’m nowhere closer to be being brave enough.

  “Papá,” I answer as sweet as pie.

  “Good morning, mija,” he says.

  I giggle. “Dad, it’s nighttime here.”

  “Right, I keep getting it messed up. What are you doing?”

  “Well…” I start. “I’m waiting for a taxi.”

  Technically true.

  “Where you going?”

  “To my new apartment, actually.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. You never emailed me photos. You chose a place without talking to me?”

  Thank God I fucked that up.

  “I did, but that’s because a really great deal came up.”

  “A deal?” he asks, and I can hear a little excitement beneath the surface. My dad loves great deals.

  “Yeah, I got hooked up with a new roommate situation in Cork.”

  “In the city?”

  “Yes, I thought you’d like it better if I was living with a roommate instead of alone.”

  He huffs, but I can tell he’s processing it.

  “I suppose that is a good idea.”

  “And it’s for only six hundred euros a month.” By California prices, that is such a good deal and I know that will win him over.

  “Well, send me photos of the place,” he says, and I’ve seemingly earned his approval. Trouble is, he still doesn’t know all the details, like the fact that it’s above a pub or the fact that this roommate is a guy. A sexy one, at that.

  “I will.”

  “I mean it, mija.”

  “Yes, Papá,” I say, and spot Eoghan’s taxi turning the corner. “Oh hey, my taxi is here. I’ve got to go. Love you,” I say. He mumbles the same in reply and I hang up.

  The taxi pulls up in a dash and Eoghan jumps out quickly. He immediately apologizes. “I’m so sorry, Juliana. I tried to get here right on time.”

  He’s less than ten minutes late. “Don’t worry about it, Eoghan.”

  “No, I’m really sorry. I didn’t want you to think I’d abandoned you here.”

  There it is again, the word “abandoned.” He’s used it a couple times, mostly in reference to when Aiden didn’t make it to the airport. “Seriously, it’s fine. I just got here,” I lie, trying to ease his guilt.

  He grabs my bag and puts it in the trunk while I get into the front passenger seat. He hops in beside me and puts on his seatbelt. “What do you Americans like to say: home sweet home?”

  “That’s right,” I answer with a smile and he takes off toward City Centre.

  He’s wearing khaki pants and a dark blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It’s the nicest I’ve seen him dress. “Have a good day?” I ask, curious about what he’s been up to.

  He thinks about it for a moment before he answers. “It was what it was.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure what that means. “Did you spend time with your family?”

  He gives me a sharp look and I wish I could take back the question.

  “Yes,” he answers and keeps it at that.

  It’s unclear if I should press him about it, so to fill the space between us, I tell him about my day. “Well I slept in, big time. I didn’t mean to, but I woke up after one o’clock. Hurting, by the way. I’m pretty sure the devil invented Jameson.”

  “When did you have whiskey?”

  “When I got back to the hotel.”

  “Why? You could have had it at the pub.”

  “I wasn’t ready for bed yet and then I ran into my boss…he was staying at the hotel, too, for his stag party, so we had a drink together.” What I don’t want to tell Eoghan or anyone for that matter is that my boss made a very inappropriate move on me.

  Eoghan grips the steering wheel tighter. “I saw your man in the pub last night.”

  I roll my eyes. “For the last time, he is not my man.”

  “Lass, I’m not implying that you know him biblically or anythin’, that’s just an expression we have here.”

  “Really?” I ask, bewildered at it.

  “Yes, it’s like if you talked about that stranger over there.” He points out the window to an elderly gentleman sitting on a bench at the bus stop. “If you said, ‘see your man over there?’”

  “Oh, okay,” I reply, feeling completely foolish.

  “So the Jameson got the best of you. Was that before or after we were texting?”

  “Before. By the time we texted, I was in bed.”

  A small smile creeps up on his face and he accelerates a little bit faster. We get to the pub and for the first time in my experience, it’s practically empty. What a difference a day makes. There are only a few patrons there, mostly older men and women sitting around, having pints and talking quietly to one another. I assume they are the regulars. Dylan’s at the bar, as usual, but looking a little tired. Ruth isn’t around.

  Eoghan wheels my suitcase across the pub toward the back staircase, not giving me too much time to say more than hello to Dylan. As we ascend up to the third-floor apart
ment, I realize how hard it’s going to be to carry up all my boxes when they arrive and then I groan at the thought of giving my mom my shipping address. I won’t be able to hide my new place for long. Maybe they won’t look it up on the Maps app? Yeah, right.

  The apartment is totally dark, so I stand still while Eoghan goes forward and turns on a light. “Sorry lass, I haven’t been home since this morning.”

  “That’s okay,” I tell him and take hold of my suitcase.

  “I’ve got this,” he says, and wheels it to my new room and turns on the light. “So when do you expect the rest of your stuff?”

  “It might take a little while. I need to tell my folks my new address and my mom will get it shipped here.”

  I sit down on the bed and it squeaks loudly. We both lock eyes and laugh a little at the same time, as if we’re thinking the same thing. Can’t get much action on this bed if you want to keep it quiet. I’m blushing now and thankful that my skin tone doesn’t show it.

  “Well, there are towels in the bathroom you can use and if you need anything else, just ask or just take it if you see it,” he says and lingers in the doorway.

  We continue looking at each other and I can’t help but ask the question that’s been on my mind since I first stepped foot in Ireland. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. “I told you last night.”

  “Not really.”

  He looks down at his feet for a moment before coming back to my eyes. “Because I like you, Juliana Rodriguez. Good enough?”

  I share a small smile and say, “I like you, too, Eoghan Murrough.”

  The corners of his lips turn up. “I’ll let you get settled in. Come downstairs if you want when you’re done. I’ll be relieving Dylan.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  He backs out slowly and winks at me before turning around and heading out. It makes me smile and I shake my head at the silliness of all of this.

  I start unpacking my suitcase and put my clothes away in the green antique chest of drawers, and my toiletries in the small bathroom.

  Eoghan doesn’t have much in the way of body products, just a bottle of shampoo and body wash, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, deodorant, and a half-used bottle of cologne. I suppose he doesn’t need much to look as good as he does—that just happens naturally.