AS SOON as we got back to Aunt Gwendolyn’s house, I hurried upstairs, dug out my phone, and dialed Dad’s number. I desperately needed to talk to him. The phone rang five times, and I was worried it was going to go straight to voice mail, but he finally answered the phone. I was surprised by just how happy I was to hear his voice.
“Hello? Ronan?”
“Dad! Hey. Yeah, it’s me,” I said stupidly. Now that he’d answered, I had no idea just how I wanted to pursue this. “I didn’t, uh, wake you up, did I?”
Dad chuckled. “No, it’s five in the afternoon. I just left work. I’m driving home now.”
“Oh, well, I can let you go—no need to distract you while you’re driving.”
“I’m using the in-car system, so you’re fine,” he assured me. “What’s going on? How’s Ireland?”
How did I answer that? “It’s… Dad, it’s amazing. Of course I miss you, but I feel at home here, somehow.”
“I’m not surprised.” I knew Dad so well that I could practically visualize the wan little smile he probably had on his face right then. “It’s a beautiful country, and you’re so much like your mother, I’m not surprised to hear that. I figured Ireland would have a hold on you when you decided to finally go.”
“Hannah has a friend at the admissions office of Trinity College in Dublin,” I said slowly. “She says she can get me through the process, if I start right now. I could be admitted for the fall semester.”
Dad said nothing for a moment. “It would be more affordable,” he said at last. I thought I heard a strain in his voice, but it might have been my imagination. “What would you do for money while in school?”
“Hannah’s getting married, so she’s moving to London, and Aunt Gwendolyn will need help in the bookshop.”
“Tell Hannah I said congratulations. And, son, this sounds like a good opportunity. But there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
I hated how perceptive Dad could be. I knew I didn’t have much choice, not if I wanted to get his advice and figure this whole situation out. “Well, there’s this guy,” I said. I told him about Fergal and our time together, and camping—except for the sex, of course—and how I’d ruined things between us.
“Do you love him?” Dad asked, as if that were the only question that mattered.
“I—I don’t… I mean, I’m not….” I searched for the answer, words eluding me. I was about as articulate as a parrot.
“You know the answer, Ronan.” Dad’s tone took on the no-nonsense tough love sound, and I knew his face would be the one the one I’d last seen on the couch in my apartment when I was drowning in my grief.
“I think so, but… that means staying here, and I can’t. I belong there—”
“Here? Why? What’s here for you in Atlanta, Ronan? You were going nowhere here, and we both know it.”
I couldn’t believe Dad was saying those things to me. “I had a job—”
“A job you hated,” he said. “There you have a chance to do what you planned on doing before everything with your mother’s illness sidetracked you. Sounds like that’s where you have a future. Friends, and you can go back to school like you always planned. You have family there, Ronan, a huge family. Here all you have is—”
“I have you,” I said. I could not stop the tears that welled up.
“You’ll always have me, Ronan, no matter what. Besides, I’ve earned the right to take vacations whenever the hell I want to. I’ve always intended to go back to Ireland. You’d just be giving me the perfect reason to.”
“I can’t just leave you there alone.”
“You listen to me, Ronan Walker. You’re a grown man, and it’s about damn time you start thinking about you. I know what happens when someone you love leaves half of themselves somewhere. Just like your mother, your heart is going to always be in Ireland. After being there, do you think you could come home and not dream about Ireland every night?”
“No,” I answered softly, closing my eyes because I knew my words would hurt him.
“That’s where you should be, then,” he said, his voice now that “and that’s final” tone that all fathers seemed to automatically receive when their children are born. “Home isn’t always where you started—sometimes it’s where you end up.”
We ended the call shortly after that, since there wasn’t much more to say on the matter and I had a lot on my mind.
I dug out my laptop and started it up. After a quick Internet search, I found the Trinity College website. I sat there cross-legged on the bed, staring at the screen for what felt like hours, my mind wavering back and forth, debating the choice before me.
In truth it wasn’t much of a debate; after talking to Dad, I knew what it was I wanted to do. I just had to take the time to gather the courage and do it.
I was glad to find Hannah still downstairs an hour after we got back. She sat on the couch in the den, watching the same crime show we’d watched together before. She glanced up at me when I entered, laptop in my arms, but then returned her attention to the television. She was going to wait for me to make the first move, it seemed.
I opened my laptop and showed her the screen. She squinted at it a moment, and then her eyes widened when she realized what it was. It was the “Your Application Has Been Received: Here Are Your Next Steps” page of the Trinity College website.
“You applied? Really? What made you do it?”
I sat down next to her on the sofa. “I’m pretty sure I wanted to all along. I just didn’t realize it until talking to Dad. I’ll still need to do all of the things that need to be done to get the Irish passport, and I still need to have my transcripts sent, and get a letter of recommendation sent to them, but the process has at least started.”
“This is a pretty huge step, Ronan. You sure about this?”
I nodded. “Very sure.” Fergal popped into my head and I grimaced, and Hannah caught it.
“What?”
This time I told her everything there was to tell, including the sex and the feelings that were growing stronger and stronger in my chest. Throughout the telling, Hannah remained silent, just listened, her face giving away nothing of what she was thinking. She remained silent for nearly a full minute after.
“Well?” I prompted when I could no longer stand the silence.
“You made a mess of things, didn’t you?”
“That’s all you can say?” I cried. “That doesn’t help me very much, Hannah!”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You did make a mess of this, but that doesn’t mean that it’s unfixable. I’m sure if you just talk to him, he’ll understand.”
“And tell him what?” I despaired.
“Tell him the truth. That you’re an idiot. I know he’ll believe that.”
I couldn’t argue with her on that—I thought I was an idiot too—so I just pouted.
Of course, she saw that too, and she laughed. “Don’t worry. I said everything will turn out fine.”
“Just because you’re getting your happy ending doesn’t mean that everyone else will.”
Hannah just tossed a sofa cushion at me. “Shut up. You can see him tomorrow at the shop and explain, and everything will be all right.”