All That We Let In
It was a familiar setting. One she knew all too well, that brought her some strange comfort every time. Whether she was looking to drown her life in the stronger of drinks or to be emersed in the laughter fo friends and strangers alike. A pub was a pub. This wasn't her usual haunt, but then again, she couldn't bring herself to go to that one anyway. It reminded her of... too much. Instead, she sought solace in her pint. Part of her longed for something stronger, a little more damaging than what sat in front of her, but her ambivilant and passive desire for self distuction kept her apathetic to whatever the keep had put infront of her. She sipped it with an empty heart and an aching head, staring at it, past her reflection that gazed out into a bleak nothingness. Her eyes were cold. Her heart beat only to continue her life force but it was devoid of passion. She had no fire. No spark. Great rains had come through and extinguished them, reducing them to less than ash, pitiful reminants of what used to be who she was. It was all lost. All was lost. She felt nothing, and couldn't understand why. She wanted a cigarette but couldn't care enough to even retrieve them from her pocket. More frustrating yet was her inability to achieve a blissful drunkenness she hoped would eleviate the heaviness that weighed her down. And yet, glass after glass yeilded nothing.
"What do you recommend around here?" Someone asked her. She looked up at a young man who had taken a seat next to her.
"Beg pardon?" Sile asked, almost annoyed that someone had brought her out of her warped whirwind of self-loathing. A British someone at that. Some strange British fellow with a large backpack at his feet.
He smiled at her. "I don't normally drink... so, I guess you could say I'm not exactly well versed in what's good."
She nodded and with a sardonic scoff answered, "If your day's been anything like mine, then its all good."
He smiled again, though as far as Sile was concerned, he was a fool for doing so, as there was nothing worth smiling about. "Well, my day hasn't been that bad."
Sile looked at the bar tender. "Mind slidin' over one of what I'm havin'?" She turned to the stranger. "Try this."
"Thank you." He said as he recieved the drink. "It comes recommended by a beautiful woman, must be quite notable." He took a mouthful and set it back down. "Notable it is."
"Don't mention it." She gazed back down. "I don't know about notable. Hasn't killed me yet. Maybe it's defective. Or the former was wishful thinking." She frowned.
"Such talk." He said. "Tell me, love. What could be so horrible that you'd think that way?"
Sile looked at him, irritated though perhaps intrigued. "What's it to you?"
He adjusted on his seat and shrugged. "You seem interesting."
She scoffed again. "Do I now?" Sile rolled her eyes. "If you say so... mister." The man extended his hand.
"The names Benjiman." Sile hesitated for a moment but accepted it. "It's nice to meet you..."
"Sile." She answered blankly.
"Sile. That's a very nice name. Gaelic?" He asked.
"Yes. Does that stamp my one way ticket to trouble now? Or did you figure out I was Irish already?" She muttered to him.
Benjiman laughed and shook his head. "No no. I knew. Or figured as much. We are in Ireland, aren't we?"
"You're swift." Sile smirked as she sipped her beer. "Well, forgive me for knowing you're English... even though we're not in England."
"Ah, you smiled." He remarked. Indeed, she had.
"Be careful. I think we're breaking some law. You and I. Fraternizing like this." Sile laughed.
Benjiman shrugged. "I doubt it. I don't care, either." He gently glided his glass to and fro in front of him. "I'm not getting involved in that."
"In what?" Sile asked him.
"This whole conflict. It's been going on for a thousand years and we've made no progress. If we can't play nice, we should just leave eachother alone." Somehow, his words began to warm her heart in a way she was hoping the alcohol would. He looked at her. "I mean, according to this conflict, it seems as if I should look at you and just see an Irish woman. And I should negate the fact that I think she's beautiful." Sile blushed. "Because that wouldn't matter. According to this nonsence, it doesn't matter who you are. Just... what you are. It seems ridiculous to me."
At that moment, Sile felt an anger at herself welling up. She had committed such a sin. She didn't notice his lovely golden hair, his green eyes or sun kissed complexion. Just his origin. And she almost wrote him off for that. She felt remarkably foolish. "Yea, I know what ye mean." She suddenly found her spirits lifting. "So what brings you to Ireland?"
He sighed with a smile. "I've always wanted to back-pack it." He nudged his pack with the tip of his boot. "Because its just so... lovely. The whole world is, in fact. There's so much I want to see. I'm just afraid we're going to destroy everything and everyone far sooner than we realize, and so I'm trying to see it all. Before it's gone."
She was captivated. "Where else have ye been besides here?"
Benjiman whistled. "Good lord. Everywhere." He moved slightly closer to her. "Name a place."
She laughed quietly and thought for a moment. "Egypt. I've always wanted to go there."
"Amazing." He responded. "Absolutely stunning. The pyramids are unlike anything you've ever imagined." He watched her smile grow broader. "Walking through passage ways built thousands of years ago. Hiroglyphics carved into the walls so long long ago. The history. The magic of an Egyptian starry sky. It's mind blowing."
Sile needed to hear more. "Well, what was your favorite destination so far?"
Benjiman laughed again. "I have to pick one?"
"Oh come on!" Sile pried playfully. "I devulged my favorite beer! And that's a hell of a secret to share!"
"Indeed it is!" Benjiman nodded and raised his own. "To the wonderful secret!" Sile followed his actions to complete the toast.
"Aye. To secrets." She said.
He thought for a moment. "I'd have to say my favorite place so far as been Tibet." He looked at her. "You know where that is, yes?"
"Aye, I do. That must have been fantastic." She answererd, eagerly awaiting a chance to devour his next story.
"Oh it was. I wandered through the entire country. I stayed in these tiny, adorable villages, I met monks. I discovered the art of meditation there, and it's done wonders for me."
"Meditation, eh?" Sile joked. "That doesn't seem very Christian of you."
He chuckled. "I'm not Christian."
"Catholic, then?" She asked, surprised.
"No." He paused. "If I had to put a name on it, they're very Buddhist, my beliefs." He sipped his beer. "I guess I'm just searching for an inner peace. Ghandi said we should be the change we wish to see in the world. Well, if I want to see peace, I've got to feel it, right?"
"Right." Sile whispered, hypnotized by him. He spoke to a part of her that no one had ever reached before. None of her past lovers, no friend, not even Ian, ever reached this side of her. Bejiman had found it immediately and made himself at home there. They found themselves submerging in conversation the rest of that night, reeling in the discoveries of eachother they seemed to be making around every turn. Finding the golden in the other no one had bothered to ever look for, and it was the greatest pleasure either had ever felt. Sile was at ease for the first time in a long time. Minutes turned to hours and the night flew by them without their noticing. They talked of their beliefs, all they had been searching for and all they wished to find. They discussed the evils of the world and the ways with which to right every single wrong. They found themselves oblivious to the fact that they were bridging an amazing gap, a gash created by the pain of history and man's need for power and dominance. Benjiman's travels, Sile's recommended places to visit in her country. Had it not been for the keep telling them to do so, they never would have left that pub. It was near dawn.
"Sile, thank you for the pleasure of your company this fine evening." Benjiman took her hand and kissed it. She felt herself blush again.
"No, thank you." She smiled . "I haven't been this... god... relaxed in the longest time. The Good Lord sends us help at the most unexpected times."
"Yes, he does." He returned with a smile of his own. Both were hesitant to walk away.
"Do you have a place to stay tonight?" Sile asked suddenly.
Benjiman shook his head. "I'll find a field or something."
"No! Please, come back with me." She blurted out, perhaps too quickly.
"No. I wouldn't want to impose." He said, shyly. Sile found herself staring at his handsome face, not wanting to look away.
"I'm staying with a friend, and his place is huge. I'm sure he won't mind." She insisted. Before he had a chance to decline, she took him by the hand, leading him down the road. "It's not too far. And if you want to shove off to wherever tomorrow, at least you'll have had a good night's sleep."
"That's very kind of you." He laughed softly as he was practically dragged down the street.
She looked back at him, grinning. "Irish hospitality." She winked. Their walk was silent, as Sile took in the warmth of her new comrad, and he took in his surroundings, and her aura. Neither realized that, even after Sile had stopped leading him, she hadn't let go of his hand. Or perhaps they noticed, but enjoyed it the way it was. They returned to Ian's house, hand in hand, occasionally glancing up at eachother with timid smiles. "My room is this window right over here." She walked over and gently slid it open. "He keeps the doors locked, so I need a way in." She whispered as she lifted herself to the window sill. She felt two hands on her waist, raising her up, and she enjoyed the sensation of it. Once safely inside she reached out and took his pack, helping both in.
"This is very nice of you." Benjiman said again. He set his pack down on the floor near a far corner. "Would right here be alright?" He asked her.
Sile shrugged. "If you want to sleep on the floor, then I guess that spot's as good as any." She reached down and untied her boots. Benjiman glanced at her, confused. She didn't have to see him to know that. "You can sleep up here with me. I grew up in an orphanage. That sort of arrangement is old hat, dear." Benjiman was hesitant. "Look, I promise. I won't put the moves on ye." She laughed quietly. "If you feel more comfortable over there, then by all means. Wherever you'd like. But the offer is open here. And I'll even sleep on the blanket while you sleep under them, if that works better for you." He thought for a second and moved towards her bed, and sat down.
"Thank you." He said, apprehensively, though happily.
"You're welcome." She answered as she reclined against her pillows.
"You normally this trusting?" He asked as he did the same.
Sile looked over at him. "No. I'm not." She paused. "But something about you tells me you're alright." There was silence.
"Well... something about you tells me you're alright... so there!" Benjiman said with pseudo seriousness. They laughed after a second of silence.
"Good night, then." Sile said.
"Good night, Sile." He answered as she leaned forward and grabbed her jacket to use as an improtu blanket.
"Will you be warm enough?" He asked, concered.
"I'll live." She answered. "Besides. I told you. This is just to make sure I don't go puttin' moves on ye'" She chuckled. Benjiman was silent.
"What makes you think I'd mind if you did?" He asked. Sile was startled. She turned to look at him again. He lifted the quilt as an invitation for her to crawl under it with him. She took that invitation and was greeted with a kiss upon her arrival.