Tracks

That was where Lincoln found me when he made his way back to my table after grabbing a drink from Bobby. He was waiting for me when I finally came back to the table.

“What were you looking for, darling?”

I shook my head. “Just looking. Thought I could see the Bay from here,” I lied, picking up my drink again and taking a sip. I winced at the strength of it before I could stop myself.

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah, Guinness is a bit strong for you Americans,” he quipped.

I rolled my eyes and kicked the front legs of my chair off the ground. “Bobby tell you where I was sitting?” I wondered, hunting for whether or not the bartender had mentioned the mysterious Peter Pan.

Lincoln nodded and took a sip of beer. “Aye. I texted you first, but Bobby was faster.” He winked.

“How’d you get Leila to let you escape?” I asked, opening the text to get rid of the alert.

Lincoln laughed. “Guilt. Owen and I basically groveled at her feet to let us at least go have some fun while we were waiting to be fitted and pinned and stabbed to death with needles.”

My eyes widened. “Mary’s that bad?”

“No! Of course not! But it worked for the guilt trip. And Mary, bless her heart, played along. She knows Owen and I aren’t big fans of the fitting part.”

“I’m afraid for my turn. No offense, but girls tend to take longer than guys, even when the girl doesn’t give a rat’s ass what she looks like.”

Lincoln let out a hoot. “Leslie Lucas, where have you been all my life?”

I laughed and clinked glasses with him. “New Haven. Should’ve moved there instead of Ireland, you nimrod.”

He chuckled. “What was I thinking?”

“Why did you move here?” I wondered then, realizing I knew absolutely no more about Lincoln than I knew about the stranger from the tracks.

“My dad,” he said with a shrug. “He got a job over in Galway, working for some prestigious law firm. He’s gone now, passed away five years ago. My mum and I stuck around, in part because of how close I was to Leila and the blokes.”

“I’m sorry, Lincoln. About your dad.”

He nodded. “He was a great man,” he agreed. “He’s the one who got me into football.”

It took me a moment to realize that his soccer outfit did indeed match up with the sport. “Oh! Right! Reverse it here.” I laughed.

“Dad used to play all the time growing up. Even after his first marriage ended badly, he kept on playing. It’s how he and my mum met actually.”

I lifted a brow, realizing I was in for a life story. “Come again?”

Lincoln considered a moment, obviously trying to figure out how to say this in ten words or less. At last, he just gave up. “It’s a long story. Basically, Dad married before my mum, the marriage didn’t end well, and he remarried a couple years later. Met my mum here, while he was playing football for a work tournament; she was in the stands with her friend who was married to one of the other players. They met, hit it off, and had me.” He grinned like a four year old. “Best choice he ever made, in my opinion.”

I smiled. “And…you and your mom are close?”

His smile went soft. “She’s one of the best women I know.”

“That’s really nice.”

“What about you? Are you and your folks close?”

I took a deep breath. “Kinda. My brother and I were inseparable but…the whole family was always pretty tight. Until recently.”

Things went silent for a moment before Lincoln reached across the table and laid his hand gently on my arm. “I know it’s not my business, but I’m sorry too.”

I couldn’t help but feel better at Lincoln’s words. Not because he’d apologized, but because he understood what I wanted. He got the fact that I didn’t want my story spread around town, and he seemed to get that I hadn’t agreed to come to Ireland for all the reasons everyone else thought. I didn’t care to see my cousin and understand my heritage, to reconnect to my mom’s roots or see what Aaron had last year. Somehow, Lincoln seemed to know I was here to escape.

“You know,” he said after a few moment’s pause, “there’s a pretty decent sport shop just down the road. Want to check it out?”

I smiled and nodded. “Yeah. That doesn’t sound half bad.”

“Come on, then. Maybe I’ll even teach you a thing or two about football while we’re at it,” he teased.

“And later, I’ll teach you a thing or two about real football,” I shot back with a grin.

Lincoln smirked. “You’re on, darling.”

A little less than an hour later, we were walking back toward the seamstress shop, our hands full of bags. Lincoln had gone a little crazy on clothes, seemingly finding six jerseys he just couldn’t live without, and a bright orange soccer ball—football—that was too awesome to pass up.

I, on the other hand, had found the skate section. I’d grabbed some new wheels for my old board sitting on my bed in Connecticut, and then had picked up a new yellow one that I’d decided was too perfect to say no to. Plus, it had reminded me of my car—my bright yellow Lancer that I found I missed quite a bit since Brenna had shown me the rental one she’d got me for my time in Ireland. A red rental. Aaron’s favorite color. I’d much rather skate all over Ireland than get in that car if I could avoid it.

“See? And now when you don’t feel like dealing with shopping, you can skate off somewhere. Lei will never catch you on that thing!” Lincoln had quipped as we’d stood in line to pay. “Lady would be too concerned with the dirt and breaking a nail or two.”

I’d laughed at his comment. “You think you’ll be able to keep up yourself?”

His response had been a glare.

When we’d made it back to Mary’s shop, it was to find the woman in question just finishing up Owen’s fitting. Chris and Leila had finished shortly before, and had apparently gone off to grab a bite, leaving Owen to catch-up when he was done. Which left Lincoln and me to duke it out for who went next.

“I already called last!” I argued, dropping my bags on the ground and putting my hands on my hips.

“So? Owen and I weren’t ready,” he shot back.

“Owen didn’t seem to have a problem with that.”

“That, and the fact ye two had vanished,” Owen chimed in.

Together, we glared at him. He chuckled, holding up his hands and backing out the front door. “Kidding,” he said, making a break for it without a look back. I rolled my eyes and glared at the last man standing.

“Lincoln!” I argued.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Please?”

I sighed and held up a fist. “On three,” I said annoyed. “One…”

“Two…” he chimed in.

“Three!”

I grinned when I saw his paper held out to my scissors. He groaned. “Come on—two out of three.”

“Fail!” I sang and fell down on the chair I’d been sitting in earlier.

With a sigh, Lincoln hung his head and slumped off toward Mary, standing amused by the mirrors. “Well, at least I know how much ye enjoy my company,” she teased him, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheek. “Like something similar to last year’s?” she wanted to know.

He nodded. “Surprise me on the color.”

Mary chuckled. She went over to her desk and pulled out a small, handmade booklet. She handed it to me. “Look through this, lass. There may be something that catches yer eye.”

I took it from her, nodding in agreement, though I was pretty sure all I’d find in it was new material for my comedy show. I flipped the pages absently, Lincoln’s whining going in one ear and out the other, not really noticing the pictures as I passed. I was still trying to figure out an excuse not to go. Or rather, an excuse Leila would believe so I wouldn’t have to go. Somehow, I knew she wouldn’t buy the old “I’m sick” routine.

I couldn’t help but wonder if the stranger—er, Tracks—would be going. Leila said the whole town went; he obviously lived in town. At least, that was my assumption considering I’d seen him twice in less than twenty-four hours. In a town this size, I took a wild guess that it was why he’d so easily found me. So he had to live here, but with the shades and the question dodging…he didn’t seem any more into the social scene than I was.

For the first time since Aaron’s death, I actually wished I had one of our old friends to talk to. Jason or Tyler or Liz… Just for a moment, with no strings attached, I wanted to be able to ask their totally unbiased opinion of this guy. Did they think he was a creeper, someone to be avoided? That he was just curious and bored with his own life?

I couldn’t ask Lincoln because, for the time being, I liked him and he didn’t know me well enough to know I wasn’t crazy. And there was no way I could ask Leila because she was the exact opposite of me and would probably assume I wanted to date the guy. Jas, Ty, and Liz all knew me better than that. Knew I wasn’t crazy; knew I didn’t date. They could give me totally objective opinions and either talk sense into me or out of me about hunting the stranger down.

But, while I was sure my friends would answer the phone and listen to me because I needed them, I also knew I’d be opening a door I wasn’t ready to walk through yet. They’d want to ask how I was doing; talk about Aaron; remind me that they’re always there for me. I knew all that already. But I wasn’t ready to start trying to move on.

So I couldn’t call them. Out of the same selfishness that made me want to call them at all. I couldn’t start something I knew I wasn’t able to finish. It would only hurt all of us. Again.

Which left me to ponder and wonder, and secretly steam at Tracks for not telling me who the hell he was.

I flipped to the next page, rather harshly, and found myself gazing down at an image that made me pause. Never had I ever gotten excited to see a dress in my entire life. Black and silver, simple, direct. It was absolutely perfect for a girl like me.

“Full-length, black crushed velvet gown; cut in tradition of the late middle ages; bell-cut sleeves and square-cut neckline trimmed in silver floral pattern; encrusted with dark jewels (optional); open cut front, lined with a dark silver lamme with easy lace-up back.”

I was pretty sure my mouth had fallen open as I stared at the dress.

“I think we’ve found a match,” I heard Mary sing softly.

I looked up to find both Mary and Lincoln watching me. I’d officially been caught. I turned the book around again. “This one,” I said, pointing.

Mary laughed. “The Countess Gown, it is lassie.”

Lincoln pumped a fist in the air. “Yes! You are officially more into this than I am, darling. Thank you very much.”

I snapped the book and glared him. “You’re very unwelcome, Elvis.”

That was how the rest of the fitting went for us. Lincoln and I sniping at one another; Mary standing on the sidelines and laughing the whole time. She took the measurements for my gown, and recommended a few different pairs of shoes to go with it, and an hour later, we were walking back into the street, both stiff from standing still for too long.

We met up with Leila, Chris and Owen outside the music shop, and took a vote on what to do next. Owen and I voted to go home and sleep; Lincoln voted to teach me to play football; and Leila and Chris voted to go down to the beach and take a boat out.

“Tell you what,” I decided when I realized none of us would win. “You two go on a little date or whatever with the boat; Lincoln, Owen and I will head back to Brenna’s. You can meet us there later.”

Leila pouted. “But I want to spend time with you too, Leslie.”

“I’m here for three months,” I said, trying to be kind. “You’ll be sick of me by the time I leave; don’t worry about that.”

Chris smirked and looked to Leila for the decision. After a long moment, she sighed and nodded. “Tell Mum we’ll be back in a couple hours.”

I nodded, and then agreed to take her bags back to the house for her. Chris handed off his keys to Lincoln, and the three of us piled into the truck. Once the passenger door was shut, I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Can’t believe we escaped.”

Lincoln looked over at me. “You’re horrible.”

I grinned.

The ride back to the house was silent. Owen fell asleep in the bed of the truck and Lincoln agreed to drop me off and drive him home so he could at least pass out in his own bed. I offered to help out but Lincoln waved it off.

“But tomorrow: you, me, football. The Irish way.”

“Don’t you mean the British?” I shot back, climbing out of the car and grabbing my and Leila’s bags.

Lincoln snorted. “Either or. Anything’s better than American.”

“We’ll see.”

I waved as he drove off, then turned and headed back up to the house. I could definitely get used to hanging out with Lincoln this summer, I decided as I pushed the front door open. He, at least, could spare me from having to go shopping with Leila every day.

Brenna was sitting in the living room when I came clambering in, and she hurriedly rose to help me with the bags. “I’ll be guessing most of these belong to Leila?” she wondered as we walked upstairs.

“All but my two,” I concurred, noting that brought Leila’s count to six.

Brenna chuckled. “That girl…” She shook her head good-naturedly.

After dropping Leila’s stuff off in her room, Brenna followed me to mine. “Did ye have a good time?” she wondered, leaning against the threshold of my door and watching me dump the contents of my bags on my yellow comforter.

I shrugged. “It wasn’t awful. Lincoln and I bonded.”

Brenna smiled. “I figured ye two would. Lincoln’s…a piece of work certainly.” She tilted her head to the side. “Just like you and yer brother.”

I hesitated, not appreciating that remark as I’m sure she’d hoped.

“Aaron loved it while he was here, lassie, and he, Owen and Lincoln became quite the trio during his stay. He and Lincoln would play football; he and Owen would play music. Yer brother fit in just perfectly here, Leslie. In every way. Ye might too.”

I busied myself with my bags. “Yeah well, I’m not looking to fit in,” I said, my back going up the longer she went on about my brother. As I was noticing it always did whenever someone or something in Ireland reminded me of Aaron. “I’m just here for a visit.”

“Maybe yer here for something more.”

I stopped, but before I could ask her what she meant, she’d already turned and walked away. What the hell was up with all these Irish people being all deep? First Brenna, then Leila on the way to Chris’, Lincoln at the pub, and now Brenna again? Maybe it was better I didn’t know anything about Tracks. Maybe it would keep him from getting all Socrates on me too.

Speaking of…

I glanced at the clock. It was only four. I couldn’t hit up the tracks just yet; it was too early. And I wasn’t about to skate all the way out there until I was pretty sure he’d be waiting. So what did that leave for me to do?

My eyes fell on the new skateboard I’d bought and the two packs of wheels I’d picked up. I grabbed the screwdriver I’d gotten and set about attaching the new wheels to the trucks, testing them out in my room. Satisfied, I picked up my iPod and my cell phone, called out to my aunt that I’d be back later, then—after putting on Eminem’s “Mockingbird”—took off in the direction of the Bay.

I was banking on the fact that Leila and Chris would already be out to sea, so I skated down the grassy path toward the beach, taking the hill as fast as I would take a ramp back home. My board hit the sand and tried to toss me off, but I was better than that. I spun with the momentum, and kicked it into my hand.

I turned, expecting to find at least one tourist or child impressed, and was very, very surprised to find the sand almost deserted. The beach was beautiful—perfect tan sand, vibrant blue water, and cresting white waves—but there was hardly anyone around to enjoy it. A few people were laid out on blankets a half mile away; a group of kids played Frisbee beyond them. But other than that, it looked like the people of Ireland had better things to do today.

Perfect for a chick searching for solitude.

I started in the direction opposite of the Frisbee players, kicking the sand with the toe of my sneakers as I went. I probably should’ve taken them off but I really didn’t have the energy to care. It was nice to be all by myself at last, away from all signs of family and family friends.

I thought back to the last time I’d been at the beach in the summer. It was a usual occurrence for Aaron and me to go down to the edge during the winter nights and just sit, watching the waves roll in and out, telling each other stories of ghost ships and lost lovers. Some of his best music came out of those nights, when the world was shrouded in fog and mystery. Some of my best paintings too. But it had been almost a year since I’d been during the day.

We’d come down with Aaron’s coworker, Kevin, a surfer aficionado who wanted to see if Aaron could hold his own on a surfboard as well as he could on a skateboard. I’d been the keeper of the video camera, recording Aaron’s tumbles and falls, and then the first wave he ever caught.

Then it’d been my turn to test out the board. I, as we realized quite surprisingly, was much more adept than him, getting the rhythm of it down quicker than even Kevin had when he’d started. My second try was my first wave, and Aaron had insisted I keep at it, despite the hot mess of my collision with Kevin—also caught on tape.

Where was that video now? I wondered idly, halting at the edge of the sea, watching as the waves ebbed closer to the sand. The camera had been Kevin’s, but I was pretty sure he’d made a copy of the footage. Was it in Aaron’s room somewhere? I knew it wasn’t in mine. Maybe I’d give Ma and Dad a call later, see if they could find it. The thought of watching it still hurt too much to consider, but just knowing it was there, knowing that I could if I ever wanted to…that might be some help.

Aaron had asked after that if I’d consider becoming a surfer. Give up the skating, and pick up surfing full-time. Part of the reason I’d said no was simply because I knew he wouldn’t. Despite how amazing it had felt flying over the waves, breath in salt instead of air, I couldn’t just give skating up unless he did it with me.

Which was why I hadn’t gone back to the park since Aaron had died. Hadn’t skated for fun in a month. God, I didn’t even pick up my skateboard again until a week before I came here, and then, only because I didn’t have money for gas at the time. I’d stopped painting; I’d stopped hanging out with our old friends…And now I was in Ireland, thousands of miles away, barely even allowing myself to have any kind of fun…

I’d given up everything that had ever meant something to me, and didn’t have it in me to try anything new.

So, what did I want to be now?

For the first time, it hit me just how much of myself I’d lost.

I sank down on the sand, dropping my new board beside me and pulling my legs up to rest my chin on them. A myriad of emotions swam through me, but I couldn’t make any out. Depression, distress, tranquility, understanding. I was calm, but uncertain; I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to cry.

What would it be like, I wondered, if Aaron was here right now? If we had managed to take this trip together, like we’d planned? Last summer, I hadn’t been all that interested in coming. Aaron had tried to get Ma and Dad to let me come but, even if they hadn’t said no, I still wasn’t sure I would’ve. I was completely content with staying home, staying at the skate park, hanging around the familiar. Having let that go, there wasn’t anything for me to go home to, just as there wasn’t anything I’d come here for. So where did that leave me? If Aaron was here, would the trip matter more? I kind of thought it would matter less.

There were a hundred more possibilities I could go into if I wanted but…all they were doing was bringing the dark cloud lower and lower over my head.

I didn’t look up when someone sat down beside me. I wasn’t in the least surprised this time when he spoke.

“You’re sad again,” Tracks said softly, his accent barely noticeable.

I shrugged. “Welcome to my world.”

“Is it really that awful, love?”

“No. It’s worse.”

“You seemed all right earlier.”

I nodded. “It comes in waves, I guess. Big ones and then not so big ones. But…”

“It never goes away?”

I shook my head.

“You don’t have to be miserable all the time, love. It’ll just make it harder.”

My laugh was wry. “If you think it can get any harder, you’ve no idea what I’m feeling.”

“Aye, I’ve no idea what you’re feeling,” he said, a bit of Ireland creeping in. “But perhaps that’s on you, not me, yeah?”

“Subtle, but not clever enough.”

“So it’s easier to mope than to talk to a willing ear?”

I looked up sharply. “I’m not moping. Until you interrupted, I was thinking.”

Tracks chuckled a little and leaned back on his hands. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Can’t deny Ireland’s attractive.”

I shrugged. “I could. But you’d never believe me.”

He looked at me sideways. “You like making things difficult, don’t you? Doing the exact opposite of what is expected?”

“I don’t like to,” I corrected, taking a deep breath. “I just don’t see the world how everyone else does. Not anymore.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

I turned my face to see him, resting my cheek on my knees. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“See the world how everyone else does…you get jaded. You get swayed. Your opinion’s not your own.” He shrugged.

I closed my eyes and groaned. So much for a non-philosophical Tracks. “And what does that mean?”

He shrugged again. “Exactly what I said it does. A bit slow, are you?”

“Hey!”

“What? It wasn’t an insult.”

I paused and peered at him. “Then what was it?”

“An observation.”

“Tracks—” I began getting frustrated. But he busted out laughing before I could keep going.

“Tracks, is it? Hmm, now there’s a nickname I’ve never heard before.”

I winced. Yeah…hadn’t meant to let that slip.

“I like it,” he decided with a nod. “Much more interesting than my name, that’s for sure. See? Proof positive. Anyone else would get mad at a bloke who won’t tell his name; you just give him another.”

“Who says I’m not mad?”

Tracks chuckled again. “Still, I like this name too much to tell you mine now. Guess you’ll just have to wait.”

“Yeah, because that’s not a childish, ridiculous game.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

“Are you really playing this?” I snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in the mood for jokes.”

“Who’s joking? I just came to see if you were all right. What’s wrong with that?”

“So you are following me.”

He shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint, love, but this time around, you found me. You just…didn’t notice it until I came up to you.” He got to his feet and dusted his pants off. “You want a lift home?”

“Because it’s such a long walk,” I said sarcastically.

Tracks smirked then and shrugged. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“Hey!” I said before he could leave, something he’d mentioned needling me. “You mind answering just one question?”

Tracks paused a moment, then nodded slowly. “Possibly.”

“What opinion would you like me to make all on my own?”

“Well, I thought that would be obvious. Your opinion about me, of course.” He grinned. “I’ll see you later, Leslie.” With a salute, he walked off.