by Mj Fields
“Only was interested in letting off a little steam.” She shrugs. Then, walking past me, she brushes against me and says, “When you get bored of jerking off because she can’t get you there, let me know.”
Once she’s out the door, I walk over and grab a beer out of the fridge, pop the cap, and then walk into the bathroom.
Beer, shower, jerk off, because she won’t get me there, not yet anyway, and then to get some sleep, because tomorrow … I’m going to church.
Walking into Christ Church Cathedral, I realize it’s not a service, it’s a tour. A tour that you have to pay for … at a church.
Raised Catholic, it doesn’t shock me, but it does cause me to internally roll my eyes.
I opt for a guided tour, and not because I really care to tour the place, but because I know, that’s what Kendall and her crew will be doing. A tour just started five minutes ago, and I was welcomed to catch up with them or wait an hour for the next one.
I look up. That always pissed my folks off when I did it at prayer. I get the bowing to God but, as a kid and obviously still today, I know He’s up there, and I know His power, so I’m technically already bowing. Only, this time, I’m also seeking direction. Not a manly thing to do, but when in church, there is no ego.
“Americans, like you.”
Hallelujah.
After handing over some cash for the tour, the older woman points in a very general direction, and I follow.
I see her blonde, wavy hair amongst the sea of gray, and something hits me. It hits hard. That moment in the club, that moment we celebrated our successes, that moment I sang to a crowd of people who have been living this dream right along with the Murphey Brothers for years. The people who made me feel like I’d been just as much a part of their rise to stardom as the brothers themselves, in a place that dreams come true for not only them but also for me. A place that I will always consider … lucky … she was part of it, and she doesn’t even know. To realize this in a church of all places, hits like a tsunami to the soul.
The club, the spark, the need, and desire.
The rose, the kiss, and then the one that increased my want for her … it all makes sense.
Kendall can never be just a fuck, and she can never be just part of the journey.
She will be standing next to me when I’m gray.
When she turns slowly and looks directly at me, I swear to God above, my soul smiles, and her lips, well, they fight to stop smiling, too.
When the crowd follows the guide, Kendall whispers to the little Irish redhead, Dana, who looks back, winks, and then follows the others, while Kendall stays standing, her back to me, in front of the church’s altar.
I move to walk toward her since it’s obvious she’s waiting, and as much as I want to run and tell her all the things I know to be true, I deliberately take my time.
Standing next to her, she doesn’t turn and look at me. Instead, she remains facing the mural and whispers, “It’s kind of creepy that you’re following me around Dublin, Ben Sawyer.”
“Creepy or expected, Kendall Ross?”
She looks at me as a slight bubble of laughter bursts around the question, “What?”
“You had me at the farm when we were too young to realize it. You knew it. You had me at the party, and I was too stubborn to realize it. I mean, why would I throw my shirt to you, Kendall?”
Her face turns red as she turns away. “Thanks, Ben,” she huffs quietly.
“Not what I meant, and you know it. The club, the kiss, the cab, the music, the loft.” I watch her roll her eyes. “The reason I’ve never truly connected with anyone is as obvious as you in a sea of gray hair. The reason I’m not backing off is because seeing you here, I fuc—”
She plants her hand on my lips and leaves it there. She looks shocked, I’m shocked, and then we both laugh for our own reasons.
Before she pulls her hand away, I kiss her palm then say, “I’m willing to wait for you, Kendall. Willing to take a chance on us.”
Looking down, I watch her chew on her lower lip.
“You want this, and so do I. If we’re meant to be, we’ll figure it out.”
She licks her lips as she looks at mine, then tilts her head up and closes her eyes.
I place my finger over them, and she opens her eyes. “Love nothing more than to kiss you, Kendall, but you and I both paid for this tour, and I don’t want you to miss a thing.” I wave my hand out. “After you.”
Falling back, I give her space, and when I take my time to look her over, my eyes fall on an ace bandage wrapped mid-calf.
“Sweets, what the fu …” I stop when she turns sharply and narrows her eyes. “Your leg; what happened to—”
“No big deal. Let’s go.”
Following closer behind her now, I whisper, “Looks like a big deal to me.”
She whispers over her shoulder, “It’s fine.”
“Wasn’t there yesterday.”
She stops before turning the corner. “It’s truly fine, so let’s just drop it.”
“No.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “No?”
Then it hits. “Did my bike do that to you?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Is that a burn? Did you see a doctor?”
“It’s taken care of, Ben. No big deal.”
Grabbing her bicep, I turn her. “If it gets infected—”
“I live with a nurse, Ben.” She smiles slightly. “I have a triage kit full of salves and ointments.”
“But—”
“It was an accident. No big deal. But if I miss the crypts, I’m blaming you.” She grabs my hand and pulls me behind her.
Before we get to the group, she drops my hand and looks back at me almost regretfully.
“Go. I’ll hang back with our lucky little leprechaun.”
I watch as the tall, older gentleman puts his hand on her shoulder and says something to her. For less than a second, I allow jealousy to rear its ugly head, but when he puts his arm around the older blonde woman on the other side of him, bends down, and kisses the top of her head, jealousy is replaced with relationship goals and I decide to pay attention, because this is something that means something to her and it’s clear that she and I are going to need things to talk about. Things to stimulate my brain and hers so that other more stimulated parts of our bodies can take a backseat … for now.
Thirty minutes later, I have learned that we are in the center of mid-level Dublin, in its oldest building that houses the largest crypt in Ireland. I also know I have seen some shit today that is kind of out there.
A mummified cat and rat that died while the cat was chasing the rat and they both got stuck in the organ’s pipes, old religious relics, Ireland’s first copy of the Magna Carta—a peace treaty signed by England’s King John and the Archbishop of Canterbury to try to bring peace between those who disliked the king—and a mummified heart of a saint, just to name a few.
Standing at the back of the line while some of the tour crew wait to climb a steep, narrow, and high as … heaven set of stairs, I look at Dana and whisper, “You got oxygen in that backpack of yours?”
She chuckles. “You’d be surprised how spry these ones are.”
“I’m asking for myself,” I joke.
After several minutes pass, I realize that climbing the belfry is going to possibly take all day.
When I see Kendall look back at me with a smile that tells me she’s happy, it makes it worth the wait.
“You like the lass,” Dana states.
“I’ve liked her since we were little kids.”
Her green eyes bore into mine as she warns, “Don’t break her heart.”
“I’ve heard her say leprechauns aren’t that kind.”
She elbows me but giggles.
“I promise you I won’t. And a few years down the road, I’ll make sure you receive an invitation to our wedding.”
Looking past me, Dana laughs.
When I look back, I s
ee Kendall’s shocked expression.
“Weren’t you just up there?” I ask, kind of embarrassed at what she overheard.
She swallows then shakes her head as if to erase the words from her mind. “Yeah, we missed one thing on the tour that I thought you may want to see.” She looks at Dana. “Cover for me?”
“Aye, but I want a favor in return.” Dana looks back at me. “I want to meet the brothers.”
“Then, you shall.” I wink.
“Go.” She nods. “And don’t you kids get caught kissing in this place. They’ll send you to the stocks.”
Kendall nods to where we just came from. “Come on.”
I follow her to the corner of a massive room.
Dropping my hand, she points to the piano. “This is Musicians Corner. It’s special, Ben. Legend has it that whoever touches the piano will have music in their hearts and souls forever.”
I take her hand and place it on the piano then rest mine over it. “And what if two people touch it at the same time, Kendall Ross? Does it mean they’ll have that together?”
She looks at me with longing.
“You need to stop preventing the inevitable.”
“Promise yourself and me that you won’t stop chasing your dreams, because I won’t. If a few years from now we both feel the same spark and we’re in the same place, then maybe.”
As much as I hate the thought of waiting, the past couple of days have proven to me that she’s set in her ways. I have to respect it or walk away, and thus far, walking anywhere but toward her seems beyond my control.
She’s waiting for me to respond, so I do by pulling her into a hug. Against her hair, I whisper, “Your last night in Dublin, Kendall, when your people hit the hay, come stay with me. Let me kiss those pretty lips, hold you—do something—because I’m not letting this go, even if I have to wait for a hundred years, because this feels right.”
She looks up at me skeptically.
“I know you’re dubious, but I’m not. Just gonna ask that, if you find someone you feel stronger about than me, at any time you feel like you’re into anyone”—I run my fingers down her spine, and her body curves into mine—“let me off the hook.”
She swallows hard as she looks back and forth between my eyes, seeking an answer, and I pray for the first time in years that she fucking sees it.
“I really need to think about this.”
I run my fingers back up her spine. “Show up tonight, and I’ll cook you dinner, hold your hand, and kiss those pretty lips. Don’t show, and I will do my best to stay away.”
She swallows hard again and nods.
I lean down, place my lips on her forehead, and whisper, “You sure you can climb those stairs with your leg all dicked-up because of me?”
She laughs. “I told you it’s fine.”
“Such a dick,” I scold myself. “Shouldn’t have listened to Dana when she said to leave you alone.”
She steps back. “She did what?”
Nodding, I tell her, “Then she told me where to find you today.” I step back and lift my arms out to my sides. “Thank God.”
When she gasps, and I see her eyes snap up to mine, I can’t help laughing.
“Oh my God, Ben.” She laughs as she turns her back to me.
“Been ignoring that for a few days now.” I grab her hand and begin to walk back toward the stairs to the belfry. “You’re gonna have to try to do the same, Kendall. ’Cause, straight-up, it’s your fault.”
She yanks on my hand and whispers, “You can’t go out there.”
“Go. We’ll be out in a minute.”
10
Linger
Kendall
To say my last day in Dublin has been epic is an understatement. Christ Church Cathedral is by far my favorite church in the city, and that’s saying a lot. We’ve visited five in three days, all spectacular architecturally, all with a rich history, but there was just something awe-inspiring about Christ’s, and it wasn’t just the Ben factor.
Half an hour ago, I was still shocked that no one had excused themselves before nine o’clock. I had wanted to shower, to get myself put together a bit, and to change my bandage, yet there hadn’t been enough time. Now, nearly ten, sitting in the cab, I look at my watch, anxious to get to his place and get this over with.
I like Ben a lot, like a lot, a lot, which is what terrifies me. He looks at me with a fire in his eyes that defies the words he says to me, the promises he’s made me, and it’s … exhilarating.
Yet, still, there’s the phrase “wait with you” that leaves me feeling a bit restless. Regardless of how uncomfortable a question it is, I’m determined to ask him if that means just me, that he won’t wait with a plethora of others, like Marna, or he won’t be “dating” anyone either. It just feels wrong to expect that.
If he hesitates or tells me what I suspect is the reality of this—us—that it’s naïve to believe it’s possible, and it’s certainly too early to place demands or expectations, even though he sort of has, it will upset me. But I’m not sure that will stop me from getting what I came for.
Kissing, making out, being held by someone has always made me feel a high of sorts. With Ben, well, he just does all those things so well. Without a doubt, he has the softest lips and the most delicious mouth I’ve ever tasted. Being held by him is like being clothed in your favorite sweater on a cool fall night in front of a bonfire. The warmth of his body, the manly, woodsy smell, the way he presses unapologetically against me, with no reserve or shame about how his body reacts to our kisses, could easily become an addiction.
I’ve no desire to become addicted to a feeling or a person, knowing it could easily change who I am and who I want to become. With the magnetic pull I’ve always felt with him … that has always been there with him … the pull he now seems to feel as well is undeniable.
The fear of becoming someone other than me, of changing my path, my journey, because I allow myself to fall in love with someone who will inevitably change my life, with no guarantee it will be for the better, is like diving head-first into any body of water not knowing its depths. You never know when or if you will surface.
After paying the cab fare, I step out and look up at the four-story brick building, stopping at the dimly lit sign, Murphey’s Hardware, and I wonder if it’s a coincidence or if there is some connection with the band that Ben works with and the hardware store.
Taking a deep breath, I pull open the door that is unlocked and start up the stairs. My legs are sore from all the touring today, and my burn aches, yet I practically run up the steep, narrow steps, hoping to find clarity or the answers to so many questions at the top of them.
Knowing I need to be back early since our tour moves west to Galway by train at five in the morning, and I still need to pack what little I unpacked, I ignore the nerves and knock on Ben’s door immediately.
After waiting a full minute, I knock again.
Still nothing.
Maybe he fell asleep waiting.
I chance he may have also left this door unlocked as he did the outside door and turn the handle.
Pushing open the door, I peek in, seeing candles are lit and music is playing softly in the background. My quieted nerves now threaten to force me back, but I push on.
“Ben?” I say quietly at first.
Nothing.
“Ben?” I say again, louder this time.
Half of me expects him to jump out and scare me, especially since I admitted that, as much as I liked the crypts and such, I didn’t like to be scared per se.
“Fair warning, if you jump out and try to scare me, I’m going to go full farm girl on you, Ben Sawyer.”
As a door on the far side of the flat opens, I immediately feel sick to my stomach.
Marna, the same woman from last night, walks out in nothing but a towel.
“Uncle.” She smiles and holds up a hand as if in defeat, releasing the hold on the tiny towel that’s barely covering her.
Words evade me.
She sighs before saying, “You really think you’ll ever be enough for a man like him?”
Pissed, I shake my head. “Tell him I’m more than enough for any man but too much of a woman to put up with shit like this.” I turn to walk the hell away and try to put this behind me.
“You think you’re better than me?” She laughs haughtily.
I turn on my heels and glare at her. “I have more respect for myself than you’ll ever have for yourself, so hell yes, I do.”
She tsks. “Naïve, little farm girl, not yet a woman. He likes the idea of you yet, obviously, the idea isn’t enough.”
“I’d tell you to go to hell, but you’re clearly already on the right path, so I’ll go with, carry on.”
As her mouth drops open, I back my way out of the loft, knowing from past experiences that you never put your back to crazy.
Screw him, and screw her, but also screw me for coming so close to falling in line behind my sister.
Secondhand heartbreak, I think as I swallow back impending tears.
Running down the stairs, I nearly fall as the ache in my right leg intensifies. Ignoring it, I push forward and run toward the nearest intersection, hoping to catch a cab and fearing I’ll hear the roaring engine of his motorcycle coming up from behind me to try to “explain away” his actions … again, only to leave me hurt and confused.
No more, I think as I look left before running across the road when I hear my phone ring.
My phone never rings while traveling. The cost of a call or text is far too expensive internationally for anyone to call, unless it’s an emergency.
I look down to pull it out of my crossbody when I hear the honk of a horn, look up, and freeze as I look into the horrified eyes of the cab driver as he collides into me.
Looking up at the shocked cab driver and in some pretty severe pain, I begin to laugh. God has a way of telling you what He wants you to hear. A cab to the side is certainly a sign.
As I push myself up, the cab driver says, “Don’t ya move, lass.”
“I’m fine.”
