A Semester Abroad

"That's... well, that's very generous. Thank you. Can I give you something for it?"

"It's a gift freely given and freely accepted. Remember that. And wear it. For an old man who wishes you well."

He spat on his hand and stuck it out. I felt like I was in the middle of some weird cliched movie that Americans would make about Ireland. Spitting on mine, I shook his hand. We parted ways and I walked up the path that led to both buildings. One was labeled "Town Hall and Coitheanal an t-Seann Slighe" and the other simply "An Post". I checked into how much it would cost to mail packages from home and then went to a small clothing store.

They had Irish sweaters that they sold on commission for local... what? Knitters? I didn't know, but I thought they looked nice. I got one for Cynthia, Mom and Aunt Daisy. Grandma and Grandpa probably had dozens. Would they call them Irish sweaters here or just sweaters? It was like wondering if they just called it food when you have Chinese food in China.

I would have been a little more careful about my money, but Grandma left a Bible in my room with an envelope under it that held ten one-hundreds.

The rest of my time was spent taking videos and pictures for Mom. She must have been flipping out by now with me being so far away. People were very patient and would often explain who lived where or why a certain building was important. Many thanked me, which again, was odd. Maybe they didn't get many renters staying in town. I noticed that many wore a similar jade pin.

There were no signs, so it was hard to tell where property lines were. I'd have apologized if anyone braced me, but I spent some time walking amongst the apple orchards. I was maybe a mile outside of the town proper when I saw a pair of legs extending down from some branches and standing on a small ladder. They were very lovely legs and I was caught flat-footed as the owner fell backwards and onto the ground, losing her basket and spilling its apples on the ground.

I rushed over and squatted down. "Are you all right?"

She jerked back and looked at me. "Where the heck did you come from? You don't just spring yourself on a girl like that."

"Sorry. I..." She was stunning. Long black hair, dark eyes and a pale complexion that was turning ruddy. "I was taking photos. To send home. New York. That's home. I saw you fall and, well, I ran over." Great, now I was rambling.

"Well, Mr. New York, give me a hand up and tell me your name."

"Oh, William. William Corrigan." I helped her up and we gathered her apples.

"I'm Aoife, William. Sorry to bark at you. Just surprised is all. Hungry?"

We sat under one of the trees and she pulled out some cheese from the basket and a knife from a pocket in her dress. Aoife cut us slices of apple and cheese and I found myself talking about home and Ireland and going to school in Cork. I'm usually doing the reverse, getting people to open up and listening to them, sort of like Uncle Tommy does. She had an odd effect on me and I began to worry about monopolizing the conversation.

Time slipped by and she said she had to go but would see me around.

"Aoife, are these trees yours? Can I buy some of your apples? I'd like to bring them back to my landlady. You know Mrs. O'Barrows?"

"I do. I know her very well. Yes, all the trees are mine. Ard cairn russet. Here, take the basket. Bring it with you the next time you're taking your photographs for your mother."

She handed me the basket and when my hand touched hers, I felt a small jolt, as if from static electricity. I paused, wanting very much to kiss her red lips. I'd known her maybe two hours, and she already had a magnetic hold on me.

Mrs. O'Barrows seemed delighted with the basket.

"Well, this is beautiful, William. I'll make some apple butter and maybe a pie."

"Oh, great. My sister makes apple butter."

"She sounds like a lovely girl, dear. Where did you say you got the basket?"

"I met a girl in the orchard. She says she knows you. Pretty brunette? Aoife?"

The turned from the counter and looked at me. I couldn't read her expression. "You... You met Aoife? And she gave you these apples?"

"Uh, yeah. Is that bad?"

"No. Not at all. If, well, if Aoife likes you then that's just fine. I'll get to work on the pie. Supper will be ready in an hour or so."

Going upstairs, I did some reading for my courses and then set up a photo album for Mom.

The bus was right on time the next morning, and Grandma's socks fit fine. I did a walk-through of the campus, located where each of my classes would be and touched base with the dean who was the facilitator between this college and St. John's. I took plenty of photos to add to my album. Later, I sat down and recorded two videos, one for Mom and the other for Cynthia and then went looking in Cork for a place that sold local food that I could ship to Dad. He wasn't as clingy as Mom or as angry as Cynthia, but I missed him.

I found a cheese shop next door to a small pub that had a chalkboard sign outside advertising their lunch menu. There was a queue to order and I happily waited, enjoying the Irish accents surrounding me. When I got up to the front, I spoke to the guy taking orders.

"Can I just get a burger and fries and a beer?"

"Guiness and a cheeseburger. How... American. There's a McDonald's down the block."

A woman behind me spoke up. "Don't be a gombeen, Liam. If you have such disdain for burgers, you shouldn't have them on the menu. Give him a Murphy's stout, a burger and the boxty you're always bragging about. He's not a tourist, he's a student."

Turning, I was gobsmacked. She was gorgeous. Copper red hair, hazel eyes, and more curves than the Nürburgring race course. And she smelled great.

"Uhm, thanks."

"No worries. We're not all like Liam. And you're from the States or Canada? I can't tell the accents apart."

"States. New York actually." She stepped up to order and I paid for both our lunches. "Can I join you?"

"How often do I get to eat with a New Yorker? Grab a table, I'll bring over the food." I did so, realizing afterwards that I should have offered to carry everything.

"Can I say something without hurting your feelings? Lose the shirt. You do look a bit the tourist."

I was wearing a tee with the college's logo and name. Two beautiful women in two days and I was looking like an idiot in front of both.

"Okay. Point taken. I'm William, by the way."

"Welcome to Cork, William. Grace." It turned out that she was also a student. We discussed courses and professors and the best places to eat cheaply.

"So, what do you do for fun at St. John's? Maybe I'll look into the exchange program. Is it close to the city?"

"Technically, it's in the city. Pretty close to Manhattan. It's a decent area. Walking distance to stores and restaurants. It's not much of a party school, but lots of stuff happening at the dorms. I run a few seminars and I'm part of the escort service. Do they have that here?"

She started laughing. "No. We don't have male escorts. You have to go to bigger cities for that. How much do you charge?"

I actually blushed. She had a habit of making me feel stupid. "It's a safety thing. Volunteer club that walks folks to their cars or parts of campus if they're worried or concerned."

"Didn't mean to embarrass you, William. That's sort of sweet. What about those seminars?"

This wasn't going well. I was afraid I was going to come across as obsessed, which after Marisol's abduction, I might be.

"I, ah, I teach a self-defense course."

"You... Listen, no offense, and I'm saying that a lot, but you don't look like one of those muscle men. You escort women to their cars and teach them how to fight?"

"Yeah. Looks can be deceiving. I'm qualified, if that's the concern."

"I've stuck my foot in my mouth. I do that. Let me start over. I don't know anyone who would do that, William. My brothers certainly wouldn't. It's... admirable, I guess. I'm sure you do a great job. It's just not a thing here. We okay?"

"Yeah, of course, Grace."

We spent the rest of the afternoon together and found a few shops that would ship food back to Montauk. She told me about her three brothers and her older sister. I told her about Cynthia and my cousins. Before I headed back to the bus, she hugged me and kissed my cheek. She felt good and smelled even better.

Italian girls were slipping into second place.

I bolted upright in bed when the pealing of the bells woke me. Sleep had been difficult since I'd arrived, and being Sunday I had hoped to sleep in. After covering my head with the pillow for 15 minutes, I got up, used the bathroom and headed downstairs.

Mrs. O'Barrows was in the kitchen making eggs. "The bells get you?"

"Yeah. What the heck was that?"

"St. Luke's. Letting people know they have an hour."

I had completely forgotten. Father Chakowski would have given me his disappointed look, the one that makes you feel like you're a failure at life.

"I'm gonna run upstairs and change. Can I walk you over?"

"No, dear. I don't attend St. Luke's. It's on the street just past the petrol station. Can't miss it."

"Oh. There's another church in town?"

"I attend the Old Ways Congregation."

"Tridentine Rite?" Was she a sedevacantist? Or maybe it was a Protestant offshoot?

"Sort of, dear. You better get a move on. I'll have some toast and eggs ready for when you come down."

She put the eggs on the thick toast and I ate as I walked. Ireland was the friendliest place on Earth. People were shaking my hand as I arrived, welcoming me to the church and thanking me for coming. It was a little weird. I tried not to be obvious as I cupped my hand over my mouth and exhaled, trying to see if I had egg-breath. I should have brought mints. Who knew I was going to be a celebrity?

Mrs. O'Barrows had two pies when I returned, one apple and one savory with meat. "I thought you might like to take a stroll. Maybe Aoife will be by the orchards today. Always return a kindness with a kindness. It's the way of things. Give her these with our thanks."

"Yeah, sure. Thanks. What if she's not there?"

"I have a feeling that she will be."

Stopping by one of the small stores, I grabbed some local cider. Mrs. O'Barrows shouldn't be the only one contributing here. Realizing that Aoife probably had cider available all the time, I also looked at some wines. The young girl who was watching the counter went and got who I assumed was her grandfather.

"Well, looking for a wine, are you? Have you tried Móinéir Fine Irish Fruit Wines?" He said it like we were in a commercial.

"Uhm, no. I haven't had any wines since I've been here."

"Not a problem. Not a problem at all. They're from Wicklow. Nothing in them that doesn't come from Ireland. You from California, son? I've tried your Napa wines. Surprisingly good."

"No, sir. New York. Long Island, actually. We probably have 20 wineries within 15 miles of where I live."

"In New York? No. The vines need space and air. You can't be growing them in a city."

Why does everyone always believe that New York is wall to wall skyscrapers?

"Okay. So, you'd recommend one of these?"

"Indeed, I would."

He handed me two bottles of a red and I walked over to the register. The shy girl pretended to go back to reading her book but kept looking up at me. She reminded me of my sister when she was ten. Seeing kids that reminded me of Cynthia helped me realize that I should have valued the time we did spend together instead of wishing I was elsewhere.

He made a show of shining his brooch/pin thing, the same as what I was wearing. "Your money is no good here, son. Off you go. Enjoy the wine."

"What? No, please, that's... generous, but I can't do that. I'm happy to pay."

"Now you're going to insult me in my own store?" He said it with a smile. "All right, pay for the cider, take the wine."

"I'll pay for the wine, the cups and take the cider, with thanks for your recommendation and kindness."

"You drive a hard bargain, Long Islander." We shook hands, I paid and headed towards where I last saw Aoife.

I heard her singing before I saw her. It was beguiling and in a language that I assumed was Gaelic. Clearing my throat so as not to startle her, I walked her way.

"Well, there he is. My American, like a movie star. Would you be James Dean or John Wayne?"

Damn, she was beautiful. Her references were dated and I realized that the town didn't have a theater.

"Just me. Just William. Mrs. O'Barrows and I thought you might like some lunch. The apples were great. Thanks."

She looked at the basket. "You brought me gifts?" A huge smile accompanied the lift in her voice. "What did you bring, you... What are you wearing?" She seemed irritated and almost put out.

"Uhm, jeans. Sneakers and a long-sleeved tee. Is... Do Irish people wear other stuff?"

"No, that brooch. It's hideous."

Okay, at least she confirmed it was a brooch. Didn't sound too masculine, though.

"Oh. Uhm, I don't really have good taste when it comes to jewelry. Is a brooch jewelry? Mr. O'Shaughnessy gave it to me."

"The town drunk? You wear what our local fool gives you? He's playing a joke on you, William. Never wear such a disgusting thing."

That didn't make any sense. Probably half the people in town wore them.

"Okay. I didn't know. Thanks for the heads up."

She tried to turn her grimace into a smile. "Of course. We're friends, aren't we? I'll always look out for you. Let's eat."

We spent a pleasant afternoon together and I oddly found myself talking about my family and history. Aoife was an excellent listener. She hugged me as I got ready to leave.

"You bringing me gifts was very important, William. They were accepted freely and duly noted. Please come back to see me."

I did. Over the next couple of weeks, I met with her on days when I had late classes or weekends. We hadn't been physical beyond making out, but it looked like it was heading in that direction. For some reason, I kept wearing the brooch and she kept looking askance when she saw it.

My father's grandmother had agoraphobia that was pretty debilitating for a while. I thought that Aoife might have something similar. We very rarely went into town and then it was only after dark. She seemed to shun other people, and I never learned where she lived. Aoife seemed to spend most of her time in the orchards.

I'd gone looking for her there one Friday but couldn't find her. I spent the day hiking and found the ruins of a manor in one direction, an old cemetery near woods with a bog in another and a run-down mill and barn in another: nothing else. It seemed clear that she lived in town.

We weren't really dating and I wasn't going to be there forever, but I was enjoying my time in Ciabhagan-Boglach. Aoife was sheltered and a bit behind the times with her references and speech, but I was growing attached.

"Hey, nice shirt. No more Mr. Tourist."

Turning, I saw Grace walking up to me. It was the first day of classes and I was trying to get down my timing, plotting how long it took to walk from one class to another. I had ten minutes to walk across campus. No more college shirt for me. I had packed it up with the bone-shaped biscuits and sent it home for Buttercup. Maybe the smells would make her a little less neurotic if she was still missing me.

"Morning, Grace. Can you walk and talk? I don't want to be late to my second class."

"Sure. I'll be your escort. How much money do you have?"

"Oh, you're a comedian. Got it. Not going to let me live that down, are you?"

Grace leaned into me with her shoulder. "Lighten up. You're in Ireland, far from home, walking with a beautiful girl." She took a short bow. I couldn't argue with her assessment, but it left me confused about Aoife.

I leaned into her slightly. "What time does your last class get out?"

"Four. Did you have something in mind, Mr. Corrigan?"

"Dinner?"

"You like seafood?"

I debated telling her about Dad's oyster farms or fishing boats. Letting anyone know about my family's money was disturbing, somehow, so I let it go.

"Sure. Seafood would be great."

"I know just the place. Not the... I guess Americans would call it a dive, but it's got the best food you'll ever eat. Fresh from Ardglass every day. You ever have fish that was caught that day? Nothing like the frozen stuff."

I smiled. "You're on. I'll meet you here at four?"

I did and we took a short bus-ride to the restaurant. She was right, it looked like a dive. It was a little dark, very crowded and sort of rowdy. The food was excellent and they had a small band playing music from the 90s. We had to speak loudly to be heard and were having a great time.

A short squat guy came over to the table. "Look who it is. Not too busy at your studies to be slummin' it?"

Grace looked up and then back to her meal. "Let it go, Nate. We're eating."

"Where are your brothers? Gonna sic your goons on us again?"

"Leg it, ya manky moran. I don't need my brothers for the likes of you."

"They broke James' arm, you bitch! All we wanted was a dance."

I broke in. "Hey, maybe we should just go back to our dinner. Nate was it? Can I buy you a drink? I'll have it sent to your table."

"Send it to my table?" He turned from me to Grace. "Now you're whoring with American college boys?"

"Back off, you eedjit. We're just having dinner and it's none of your damned business who I'm sleeping with."

"Right. Right. It was... Listen, let's have one dance and talk a bit. Your friend won't mind."

"Are you drunk? You just called me a whore, I've never in my life wanted to dance with you. My brothers had to handle your friend and you think I'm going anywhere with you? Shove off."

He put his hand on her arm and I put down my glass.

I spoke loudly enough to be heard over the music. "Don't do that."

Nate looked at me with undisguised disdain. "Are you talking to me, college boy?"

"I guess I am, but it's more of a warning. If you don't take your hand off Grace, I'm going to break your arm for you so it matches your friend's."

"Does that work in the States? Because it doesn't here. Keep out of it, Yank."

"Yeah, it sort of does. For me. I'm going to ask you to let go of her arm for the last time. Do it. Now."

He dismissively looked from me to where people were dancing and pulled on her arm. "C'mon, Grace."

Standing, I took a step forward and punched him in the face. Nate let go of Grace and staggered back, his nose shattered. Credit where credit is due, he was a tough son of a bitch. He came barreling at me. I didn't know how many friends he had with him, so I didn't want to take him to the ground. Nothing like getting kicked in the face by someone's buddy while you are choking him out.

Stepping to the side, I slammed my elbow into his temple as he went past me. He lurched to his left and stumbled into a table. The occupants pushed him back towards us and I kicked him in the sternum. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

Someone wrapped their arms around me. I shifted slightly to my right, extended my leg a bit to my left and flipped him over my hip. He began to get up, so I kicked him in the head. Turning in time to see someone swinging a bottle at my head, I weaved backward and let it pass me by. As it did, I reached forward, grabbed his shoulder and pulled in the direction he was going. As he pivoted, I snaked both arms around his neck, pulling one arm against the other and exerting pressure until he collapsed.

Breathing hard, I looked around. The room was silent and no one was moving.

"Feck, William. I guess you don't need to be a muscle man." Grace threw some bills on the table. "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we wait for the cops?"