#mercette

“Yer a real beauty,” a plump woman added as she stepped out, her hair dyed with several streaks of purple. “Gonna settle down here t’?”

 “Her aunt,” Mercedes supplied helpfully.

 “Can’t make any decisions without a drop of drink,” a tall man (uncle, Annette quickly supplied) added, already opening the door to the pub.

 “Whiskey, all around,” cried some cousin or the other.

 Ingrid didn’t even manage to get in a word before she was ushered in, a glass shoved into her hand.

 -x-

 Ingrid felt warm.

 “I feel warm,” she said loudly. Well, considering how loud the pub was, her voice was nothing. Really, she should be speaking louder, if anything. How was Annette supposed to hear her otherwise?

 “Warm?” Seated on the other side of the table, Annette looked over her half-drunk pint. As with the rest of the bar, even the glass had a classic feel to it: the dimpled mug, the oversized handle, the tampered bottom. The table looked like something out of a medieval dining hall.

 “None of this matches,” Ingrid mumbled, glancing around the large room. While the entrance to the pub had looked small and out of the way, nestled in the crook of two intersecting streets, the interior was surprisingly big. There was room to comfortably fit a hundred people.

 It definitely felt like it. Around them, dozens of tables were packed to the brim, friends and family cramming seats together as they roared with laughter and chatted eagerly. At some point, they’d forgotten about her, leaving her alone with their food and drinks. The greasy scent of fish and chips mixed with the heady scent of booze, and Ingrid wrinkled her nose. “Why is it always that?”

 Annette pushed her glass to the side and shot her a wry look. “You are so drunk.”

 “I’m not,” she retorted, the words heavy on her tongue. If anything, she was probably a little tired; her legs tingled pleasantly, her head felt like it was underwater, and maybe she was coming down with something. “It’s jetlag.”

 “Jetlag ended yesterday.” Annette groaned, reaching over to grab Ingrid’s empty glass. She stared at the single golden drop sliding down the side, the only proof that there had been anything inside at all. “That’s it, no more tonight. I forgot how lightweight you are.”

 “I am perfectly fine,” Ingrid grumbled, crossing her arms. “It wasn’t that much.”

 “If you don’t count that whiskey you had, it wasn’t.” Annette snorted, shaking her head disapprovingly. “I can’t believe you o’ all people are drunk.”

 “I’m not drunk,” Ingrid repeated, rolling her eyes. That was a mistake; it took too long for the world to right itself up after. Maybe she was a little buzzed. Just a little. “I’m fine.”

 “Uh-huh.” Annette sighed, getting up. Her blue dress swished around her knees as she slipped out of the table. “Look, I’ll find Mercedes and we can go home then. I think our welcome party lasted long enough now.”

 Ingrid’s brow knit and she protested, “You don’t have to stop for me. I’m fine.”

 Picking up the glasses, Annette chuckled. “I like sleepin’ early, sure.”

 As she walked away, Ingrid leaned back to watch her go. And then leaned even further back, since there was nothing to stop her. Grabbing the table edge, she just barely managed to keep her balance.

 Okay, maybe she was drunk. Ingrid had never thought of herself as a heavy drinker, but everyone gave her a glass the second they’d pulled her in for a conversation.  

 She had never been able to turn down free food. It was impossible.

 Rapping her fingers in a steady beat, she glanced around. Mercedes was in a corner, talking to a short, silver-haired man, freckles dotting his sun-kissed skin. Annette was caught up at the bar, chatting with a hulking beast of man and their tomboyish waiter. They looked happy. Why cut this short for them? Ingrid was more than capable of walking to their place—she was just drunk, not knocked out. And who knew, the fresh air could sober her up. It wasn’t even a long walk, really. Ireland was tiny.

 The more she thought about it, the better the idea was. Peeking at them both one last time, Ingrid quickly slipped out of the table and shambled over to the entrance. Luckily, she wasn’t the only drunk customer stumbling out the door and no one took notice.

 Pulling out her phone, her fat fingers tapped out her destination. It took her three tries, but soon google had a blue line ready for her, marking out the way to Annette’s modest home. The parking lot was still filled with cars, despite the fact that it was twelve am, and Ingrid wasn’t sure what to make of that. It wasn’t even Friday or the weekend. Even the grandparents were still here. Maybe the town was full of party animals.

 Or maybe Mercedes was right, and she really did need to get out more. No one else looked like they were leaving yet, despite the state they were in. A group of college students sat on the hoods of their cars, crooning to the moon between fits of laughter. Passed out, a man lay on his trunk. And nearby, almost hidden in the trees, a couple were—

 Ingrid flushed, looking away. Luckily, that wasn’t the way home. No, her way was down the winding streets uphill, toward the border between the countryside and the town. People nodded at her as she passed. No doubt everyone already knew who she was and she waved back awkwardly. It was a warm summer night, a cool breeze from the nearby ocean bringing modicum of relief, and she pushed back her bangs as she slowly trekked onward.

 At least she was right—the night air had sobered her up. A pleasant tingle remained on her lips, running down her spine, in her thighs, but the rest of her was starting to feel more normal after this walk. Ingrid had never considered herself particularly graceful, but now at least she wasn’t clumsy.

 Unfortunately, feeling normal also brought back her appetite, and Ingrid flushed as her stomach gurgled. “Why are you hungry?” she admonished, grateful no one had been around to hear that. She’d only eaten an hour ago. “They fed me enough to last two days.”

 Uncaring, her stomach complained once more. Well, she was almost home. The once overcrowded neighbourhood started to thin out, the houses spacing out as she hit the edge of town. If she remembered correctly, she had to take the next intersection.

 Ingrid glanced at her phone. A black screen greeted her and she clicked her teeth. Locked. Impatiently, she pressed a button and waited for its familiar light to wash over her.

 The screen remained stubbornly black.

 A feeling of disbelief washed over her and she pressed the button again. No response. Her phone had died. “Of all the--,” Ingrid swore, stuffing the useless thing back into her pocket. “Whatever, I don’t need it.”

 She’d never gotten lost before, and she wasn’t about to start now. The route back would come to her as she walked. It was definitely a right at the next intersection. At night, the rolling fields were almost impossible to recognize, but she vaguely recalled the mailbox just ahead.

 Now she was in the country proper, the moon shining brightly as it lit her way. Oddly enough, there were no cars on the road tonight, leaving just her and chirping crickets. She had always been a country girl at heart, and she’d walked through empty fields enough as a child that this felt more comfortable than scary.

 An owl hooted and Ingrid paused, brushing her hair behind her ear as she tried to find it. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but at some point the flat fields had changed into a forest-covered hill. Ingrid squinted. Maybe it was the booze, but she saw lights at the top of the hill.

 A party? A lost hiker? Ingrid glanced up and down the road once more, but there still wasn’t so much as a car in sight. Well, whatever it was, it wouldn’t hurt for her to check it out. She was more than capable of defending herself, if it came to that.

 The moonlight barely made it through the leafy canopy, a few stray moonbeams here and there all she had to guide her as she picked her way through the woods. There wasn’t a proper path. Ingrid groped around her blindly, relying on tree trunks to steady her as she carefully stepped over roots and odd dips in the ground.

 Maybe I should get a flashlight, she thought, taking a deep breath as she leaned against a tree. There were nearby houses. One of them was bound to help.

 As though hearing her thoughts, dozens of fireflies drifted out of the bushes and trees, their glow more than enough to light up the ground. They almost seemed to line up, a soft, yellow path that extended all the way to the faint glow.

 “Weird,” she murmured. Annette would definitely know weird firefly behaviour like this and she pocketed away the question for later. For now, it was more than enough to see, and Ingrid kept climbing.

 As she got closer, the glow grew brighter and brighter. The delicate thrills of flutes were matched by the heady tone of the fiddle and other wind and stringed instruments joined in. Over it all, the sound of laughter and Ingrid had been right. It was a party.

 She glanced behind her. The fireflies were gone now, like wisps in the wind. Well, if there was a party, there was an easier way down than this. Ingrid pushed past the last of the trees and entered a broad field. Above her, the stars twinkled, but their glow was far outmatched by the many lanterns strung across the open space, even more lights wrapped around the stone wall that ringed the area. Dozens of strangers danced and laughed in the center, while even more people ringed the field, chatting and eating.

 On the far end, mouth-watering scents drifted off a table laden with food.

 She should go.

 Her stomach grumbled.

 She should go.

 Ingrid closed her eyes and swallowed. Somehow, that only made the smell even more delicious: roasted chicken, buttered potatoes, baked fish—

 “Well, it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I looked,” she muttered, mostly to convince herself.

There was something utterly lazy about having someone else make breakfast for her. Ingrid wasn’t sure she liked it. Sure, she was the guest, but getting waited on—it didn’t sit right to her. Forcing herself up, she stumbled across the room in a rush to get ready. Unpacking could wait till later, she just had to grab the bare essentials for now.

 The house was narrower than she’d expected. The halls, the rooms, everything felt crammed, as though to take up the least amount of room possible. Ingrid had never felt vertigo in her life, but she considered it as she stared at the staircase. Even those looked too small to be usable.

 She’d studied what to expect before travelling, but it still didn’t prepare her for this. The others were already in the kitchen when she’d finally made it. On a small table barely big enough to fit all of them, Annette took up half of it with a pile of papers. Mercedes stood by the stove, flipping an egg.

 “Yer up!” Annette grinned as she looked up from her papers, almost bouncing in her seat. “Good, because today’s busy and we’ll need all the time we got.”

 “Busy?” Ingrid perked up, curious. Annette had said to leave the planning to her so while Ingrid had given a precursory glance on what to do in Ballyvaughan, she hadn’t really thought too deeply about it.

 “I’ve organized our tour, sure.” Annette picked up a piece of paper, puffing out her chest with pride. “Where we’re going an’ when, it’s all finally together.”

 “That’s…good…” Ingrid trailed off as she squinted at the long list. Every line was filled with something, and with Annette’s ridiculously neat writing, it somehow looked even more crowded. Every hour of the day was scheduled with some place or the other.

 “I sorted by place, then importance.” Annette looked at her expectantly.

 “That’s…” Ingrid liked doing things on her vacation. She couldn’t handle lazing about on a beach or staying at home. It was too boring staying still. Yet, even she balked at the fact that the plan was to see some caves, walk along the shoreline, visit two castles, climb to a fairy fort, and then maybe, maybe, see some ruins.

 In one day.

 Ingrid considered pinching herself. She couldn’t be reading it right.

 “Love…” Mercedes, as usual, knew how to handle it. She reached over, squeezing Annette’s shoulders. “We can’t do all of those.”

 Perplexed, Annette stared at the schedule, then at them. “Why not?”

 “It’s just…” Ingrid grasped for straws. “Aren’t you bad with sports?”

 “It’s just walkin’.” Annette rolled her eyes and huffed. Crossing her arms, she muttered, “Anyone can do that.”

 “Are we only spending an hour at each place?” Mercedes asked, tracing the schedule with a finger.

 “Trust me, t’at’s more than enough time.” Puffing her chest with pride, Annette gestured pointed at the fairy fort on the list. “It’s really just a bunch o’ rocks, you won’t really want t’ do more than a photo.”

 “Oh, Annette, you think that just because you live here.” Mercedes sighed, shaking her head. Her hair remained coiled over shoulder, as though permanently fixed there. “This is all new to Ingrid.”

 “That’s…” Annette flinched. She tugged on a lock of her hair, twirling it around her finger. “I…it’s not that…bad…”

 Ingrid stared at the schedule one last time before reluctantly adding, “And, uh…you didn’t account for travel time.”

 “What?” Annette plucked her schedule. She paled as she stared. “Just…uh…give me a minute.”

 “Take as many as you need.” Mercedes leaned forward, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “In the meantime, let’s get you some breakfast, Ingrid.”

 Ingrid eagerly picked up a plate. Even if they halved Annette’s plans, she’d need all the energy she could get.

 -x-

 Fortunately, common sense won and the schedule spread out over the course of her three week stay instead of everything squished into a single week. As Mercedes had pointed out, Ingrid could always come again next summer.

 And she definitely wanted to—especially to explore the rest of Europe. It bowled her over how old Ireland felt, how there was a sense of history and the past around every corner. She couldn’t say the same for home; there wasn’t much of a past in Toronto. Things built on each other in a dizzying array of combinations, the past integrating with the present until it created something new. Unless it was something from more than a hundred years ago, in which case it was promptly bulldozed and trampled over.

 Here? She felt the past distinctly. The town square with its historical buildings. The Aillwee caves felt like a journey through the earth. The bridges felt like something out of a movie she’d seen once. And the forts, the piles of rocks and rubble left as markers to people long gone by, overgrown by bushes and grass.

 Ingrid leaned forward as she studied the fairy fort. There were three layers of stone wall encircling it, each ring on a different layer till it reminded her of those theatre stages in the park.

 “What do ya think?” Annette asked, eyes bright as she gestured proudly at the ruin. Despite her words earlier about how boring and quickly they could get through the sight-seeing portion of her tour, she’d spent the past few days pointing out every small fact and tidbit.

 “Impressive.” Ingrid smiled, walking closer now. “It’s not like the other one.”

 “Yeah, that’s one more of a…” Annette scratched her cheek thinking of the fairy ring they’d visited yesterday. While there had obviously been a ring of some sort, it looked like a dirt mound that someone had forgotten about. “Well, not all o’ ‘em can be winners.”

 “I can’t believe you have so many of them.” Ingrid looked over her shoulder. They’d climbed a gently sloping hill to get here, and she made out the town in a distance. If this had been a defensive position, it was a good one. “They’re everywhere.”

 “It’s like people forgot to clean up after themselves,” Mercedes added, chuckling. Her hair braided hair coiled on top of her head, giving her a more dignified look than usual. “Like little kids.”

 Ingrid unconsciously touched her own short hair; Mercedes had somehow managed to braid some of it, a princess’s circlet to Mercedes’s queenly crown. It wasn’t all that bad; somehow oddly practical despite the ribbons tying it together. Maybe she’d try that next time she had to go anywhere formal and fancy. “Only you’d call a ruin a kid’s mess.”

 Annette giggled. “Well, she’s not wrong. We made ‘em and then just left ‘em there. I’m sure the fairies like ‘em, though. Free houses.”

 “Messy, free houses.” Mercedes cradled her cheek, sighing. “You didn’t leave them anything nice.”

 Ingrid pulled out her phone, taking a few quick photos as they talked. “So, where next?”

 “We’re…” Annette sighed, her brow furrowing with annoyance. “We’re gonna drink.”

 “Drinking?” Ingrid raised a brow. Considering how poorly Annette handled her alcohol, she’d sworn off it back during their university days. Especially after she’d made a fool of herself in front of her old flame.

 “I know, I know.” Annette’s shoulders slumped, and she leaned against Mercedes. “But everyone wants t’ meet you.”

 “My coworkers, her family…” Mercedes smiled, rubbing Annette’s back. “It’ll be fun! You can meet everyone.”

“She’s what?” Annette gaped, tearing her eyes from the road to stare at her for a long minute. Like a fish, she opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Seriously?”

 The car shook slightly as they went through a pothole and she quickly focused on the road.

 “It’s not by much,” Ingrid consoled, chuckling. Back in university, Lysithea and Annette had been competitive over everything. Well, it might have been more one-sided on Annette’s part; just like her fiery red hair, she got caught up in her emotions sometimes. Still, Lysithea had crowed over her height the second she’d noticed, and maybe it had been more mutual than Ingrid had ever realized.

 “If yer lyin’…” Annette warned. Her Irish lilt was more noticeable now that she was back home and maybe it’d take a few years before it would be impossible to tell what she was saying when she was angry. “I’ll tell Mercie you want a makeover.”

 “That…” Ingrid swallowed at the thought of her old schoolmate. Despite appearing to be the ‘Mom-friend’ of the group, Mercedes had been surprisingly aggressive and persistent when it came to getting her way. Such as wanting them to all dress up for any parties she hosted.

 Ingrid could solidly claim that she had memorized the steps to putting on makeup because of that. Which had come in handy during her job interviews, but she would never admit that aloud.

 Instead, she asked, “How’s she liking Ireland?”

 “Oh, she loves it sure!” Annette giggled, a happy blush spreading across her cheeks as she thought about her long-term girlfriend. “Everyone loves herself and she’s even got a job at the local pub on her. We’re goin’ wait like, an hour, for her shift t’ end, but then we can head on home. You good for that? Or do you need sleep?”

 “Slept enough on the plane.” Ingrid rubbed her neck. It might not have been the most comfortable sleep, but it was more than enough to fight off the jetlag for now. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a shower.”

 “You definitely smell like it, sure,” Annette teased in a sing-song voice and Ingrid had a bad feeling about what the subject of her next song would be.

 Ingrid huffed, crossing her arms. “I wasn’t on the plane that long.”

 “Airplane breath—”

 “Annette!” Ingrid growled, blocking her ears before she could hear the rest. The worst thing about Annette’s ditties was how catchy they were. Sure, they were the silliest things on the planet, but once they were in your head, they didn’t get out easily.

 And she really didn’t want to unconsciously hum about how stinky she felt.

 Laughing, Annette poked her arm. “I give, I give. But yeah, Merce’s friends with everyone now. She’s even has my grandparents wrapped around her finger.”

 Giving Annette a suspicious look, Ingrid lowered her hands. “That’s not surprising.”

 It was impossible to hate Mercedes. That was a scientific fact.

 “They all say her accent is sexy,” Annette added, sounding mildly traumatized. “And I think my mum likes herself more than me.”

 Ingrid smiled wryly. “Don’t you like her accent too?”

 “Well, yeah, but that’s because it’s funny, sure.” Annette turned the wheel, taking a sharp right at the next intersection. It was a paved road now and the empty countryside slowly melted into a more crowded city. “And I don’t want t’ know what my grandparents think is sexy.”

 It took Ingrid a whole minute to process that. Horrified, she shrank into her seat, staring at Annette with wide eyes. “Your grandparents?”

 There were some things you couldn’t unhear, and that was one of them.

 -x-

 Ballyvaughan was small. Not small in a ‘small town’ kinda way, but small in a ‘tiny, you could fit everyone into a banquet hall’ way. There were less than 300 people in the whole town. Ingrid was certain that she had more people in one of her first-year classes in university.

 That meant it was immediately obvious that she was a stranger the second she went anywhere. Even before she spoke a word, people asked if she was “Annette’s American friend—not that girlfriend, but th’ other one.”

 And then a few jabs and sly winks about how “Annette sure likes ‘em big for such a tiny girl.”

 Considering that her own family were the most uptight people she’d ever met, Ingrid wasn’t sure if she was jealous for such easy (if nosey, clearly wrong, and a little creepy) acceptance, or if she was just glad that her grandparents never did more than just pinch cheeks.

 Judging by how hard Annette sputtered from each of these remarks, a lifetime of hearing them wasn’t enough to get used to it.

 “It’s a nice place,” Ingrid said, slipping back into Annette’s compact car. They’d explored enough of the town’s hub; she wasn’t sure if Annette could take it anymore. If she could take it anymore. It was better just to wait for Mercedes in the parking lot. “I can’t believe you know so many people.”

 “It’s a small town and they’re all busybodies.” Annette groaned, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. They’re all really excited and no one knows what t’ say and—” She broke into an unintelligible sound.

 “It’s fine.” Ingrid patted her back gingerly.

 “I really do love it here and they’re all really nice people and I love ‘em but…” Annette lifted her head, resting her chin on the steering wheel. “They’re all too much sometimes. It was so nice and quiet when we lived together. Just the two of us.”

 “I remember Mercedes staying over quite a bit,” she added wryly. Curious, she asked, “Is your house crowded?” Annette had often spoken of her extended family, a chain of aunts, uncles, and cousins that had enough characters to fill a book.

 “Kinda. I mean, mum and pap live there, and both sets of grandparents. My aunt sometimes stays when she’s fighting with her husband, sure. It’s crowded, and a little awkward sometimes. Especially because of sex—” Annette bit her tongue, flushing a bright red that could rival her hair.

 Ingrid felt her skin burn too and she looked away.

 Clearing her throat, Annette continued like nothing had happened. “ANYWAYS, there’s a lotta us. So mum insisted we’d get the place remodeled so there’s enough space. They’re all staying with my aunts and uncles until it’s done, while we have the run of the house for ourselves.”

 “Oh.” Ingrid nodded, pressing her cold hands to her neck as she tried to keep her voice even. “That’s good.”

 A rapping noise interrupted them and Ingrid had never been more grateful for a break in the conversation. “Who—”

 Without warning, her door yanked open and two arms wrapped around her tightly, half-pulling her out of her seat. “Ingrid!”

 It took all of Ingrid’s reflexes to turn her head so she wouldn’t die of suffocation. Mercedes hugs were as tight as ever and she gasped, “It’s good to see you too.”

 “I’m glad you’re here.” Mercedes squeezed her again. “Did I keep you waiting?”

 “Mercie!” Annette leaned over, scrambling over the car seat as she tried and failed to pry open her girlfriend’s arms. “Yer killing herself.”

 “Oh.” Mercedes looked down and relaxed her grasp. “Oh sorry, I can’t have that.”

 “It’s…” Ingrid panted, chest heaving as she tried to get some oxygen. “Fine…”

 Patting her head, Mercedes coddled her. “Oh, you poor dear. You look so exhausted—let’s get you back to our place for some food and rest.”

 “That…sounds…good,” Ingrid breathed, certain that her state was more due to Mercedes than anything else. “I’ll…move…back…”

 “It’s fine, you stay here.” Mercedes poked her head into the car, pressing a chaste kiss on Annette’s cheek before stepping out. “I’ll sit in the back and you can tell me everything.”

 Her hand curled on her chest, crumpling her shirt as she slowly calmed down. “Everything?”

 “Everything,” Mercedes insisted, sliding into the backseat. “Starting with darling Lysithea’s height.”