Page 59 of Such a Good Couple
Dublin would be so lovely but she knew the price of that would be Fionn making fewer and fewer appearances in their lives. Coming back to Ireland would widen the distance in their marriage. He needed to be based in LA. He would also have alotto say about this idea. He already missed so much time with the twins due to work; if she made it even harder for him to see them on his down time … things could get very tense. Despite his occasional forays into slightly self-centred bullshit like disappearing with Edwin Ensel in Provincetown, he adored the girls.
She skimmed a review of the new Marina Carr show but her mind was still elsewhere. She’d never really made a social circle in LA. It was so hard to make new friends as an adult. But she also hadn’t made much of an effort to explore the different sides to the city. She knew next to nothing about the theatre scene there. It seemed like theatre in LA was entirely dwarfed by Hollywood. Though perhaps it was more that herlifein LA was dwarfed by Hollywood. She could probably be goingto incredible shows but when she did go out it was usually to industry parties or premieres with Fionn.
She turned a page, only to find a familiar face, Selena Crossan, being heralded as ‘the most bold and exciting voice in theatre right now’. Maggie swiftly closed the booklet. Selena had been in the same year as Maggie in college. She did not needthatin her head. Her mood had been good in the last couple of weeks despite all the recent press. She was on the upswing of a new weight-loss plan, always the most optimistic time in such endeavours. She was practically high off the sense of control that had been restored to her since she’d begun to quietly catalogue her meals on the app.
After Provincetown, she’d gotten back on her training schedule. She let Britney go – too soft on her, and also privy to Maggie’s history and therefore not willing to enable any pursuit of weight loss. She’d secured Caroline instead – the hard-bodied, domineering woman who’d worked onEndurancewith Fionn and was now ordering Maggie from machine to machine in their stifling subterranean gym in the LA house.
Of course, she wouldn’t be broadcasting that, as it wasn’t fashionable anymore. Every woman just had to privately restrict and strive for weight loss while publicly shrugging off their gorgeous bodies as an accidental byproduct of their ‘lifestyle’. Plus, Maggie couldn’t so much as say she was trying to eathealthier, without everyone around her worrying that she was going to take it too far. They didn’t understand the sense of safety sticking to a strict plan gave her. She liked logging her foods in the little app. She liked the feeling of order. Lots of people seemed to find dieting annoying but she’d always found it oddly comforting, in contrast to how completely out of control she felt without rules around food. And when she sometimes went a bit off-piste with the food when she was on her own, she could remedy it with a quick trip to the loo. No harm, no foul – itwasn’t like it was every day or anything.
Through the kitchen windows she could see Fionn’s commanding figure entering, and the resulting effect this invariably had on any woman in the vicinity. A flurry of nerves clearly caught the two girls who’d been idly chatting and stacking dishes. They immediately stopped and gaped, before recovering a couple of seconds later. Maggie smiled. On bad days, watching these encounters could depress her. She didn’t like to be reminded that all the time they were apart Fionn was having these moments with men and women literally across the world. Today, eight pounds lighter than she’d been only two weeks ago and she was feeling better. Not better enough to actually have sex with her husband, let’s not go mad. She was still about twenty pounds off that, but luckily with all the travel and social engagements, not to mention the twins occasionally climbing into their bed during the night, she was pretty sure Fionn was putting the lack of sex down to circumstances rather than any avoidance on her part.
Or maybe he doesn’t even care? Maybe he’s in no rush to have sex with you either.
The mean little thought stabbed at her but was quickly dispatched as Fionn came out the doors towards her, grinning.
‘You are looking very lady-of-the-manor, Mrs Strong.’
‘Ewww,’ she teased, but gave a little spin in her long, delicate lace dressing gown. The pale lilac was good with her dark hair and she’d made a note to tell Sylvia to source more things in this colour.
‘Hey, Maggie.’ Ollie came out after Fionn, followed by Conor, who raised a hand in greeting. They were each dressed in different takes on the sporty-middle-aged-man look. Lycra for Conor, grey sweats and a ratty T-shirt for Ollie, while Fionn was in a Stella McCartney-Adidas one-piece that was way too high-concept for most Irish men. The shoulders had some kind ofaerodynamic fins.
‘How was the run?’ Maggie leaned back on the low stone wall supported by small columns that bordered the terrace. ‘Did anyone hurl abuse about this outfit?’ She gestured at Fionn.
‘There were a lot of attempts that were swiftly aborted when they realised who he was,’ Conor said wryly.
‘How far did you go?’
‘’Bout 12K.’ Ollie nodded at her amiably, but was definitely more muted than usual.
‘Nothing for this guy.’ Fionn clapped Ollie on the back.
‘Oh yeah …’ Maggie fussed with her hair. ‘How’s the … eh … training going?’
‘Good.’ Ollie pressed his lips together. ‘Especially now that I’m not tryna fit it all in in the middle of the night. No need to be killing myself being considerate to Clara; she wouldn’t be to me.’
‘Right.’ Maggie had no idea what to say and desperately wished they would leave so the awkwardness could end.
Unfortunately, from the look of concern on Fionn’s face they were going to be getting into it. ‘Ah man, you guys’ll work it out, right? You and Clara were always such a good couple. Chaos but good.’
Ollie’s face hardened further and he shrugged dispassionately. ‘Things change. Kids change things, money – or lack thereof – changes things. No offence, but you two don’t have that stress. I’m not trying to make you feel bad but, fact is, you don’t have the first idea of what that can do to a couple.’
Maggie bit back words that she would regret voicing.Not seeing each other because you’re rarely in the same continent puts pressure on a relationship too. One person achieving their dreams while the other is left floundering in the wake of that, pretending they’re fine with their lot, puts stress on a relationship.
After five years of having more money than she’d ever dreamed of, Maggie felt like she finally knew the answer to ‘what is being rich really like?’ It’s like your surroundings, your clothes and all the furniture in your life undergo an insane upgrade but you yourself barely change. All the fears and insecurities you’ve always grappled with are still there, oftentimes even worse than before because being rich affords you a lot of time and empty hours in which to ruminate and berate yourself for having everything and somehow still being miserable. And now spoilt as well to top it all off.
Sympathy for rich white ladies was in short supply and she could recognise that that was fair enough. Though it didn’t take away the regrets that seemed to be scratching away at her as the years were passing.Any normal person could just revel in the money and the glitz, Maggie sometimes admonished herself. She should just get on board and enjoy the ride, as Eva advised.
‘Yeah, man. I know. Or … I can imagine.’ Fionn nodded, visibly agonising over what to say next. ‘You know …’ he threw a quick glance at Maggie, ‘you – or Clara – you could come stay here for a bit. Get a bit of a break…’
‘Yeah,’ Maggie chimed in. ‘Get a bit of space from each other. It could be exactly what you need to get back on track. To see that you love each other.’
‘We’d even throw in the private chef.’ Fionn grinned, obviously warming to his idea.
It wasn’t the right thing to say. Ollie shook his head. ‘Guys, I know you’re trying to be nice. But I am a forty-two-year-old man. I don’t need to be saved by my rich friends.’
Maggie felt Fionn palpably sag beside her and Maggie sincerely wished they’d all just leave – she missed the days when they’d all been so easy with each other. The days when they’d all been in similar places in their lives. In their twenties, they’dhung out for entire weekends, hungover, watching shite telly. Good-naturedly slagging whoever had been the most shitfaced the night before from under their blankets in the ratty house shares the six of them had lived in – the smell of damp just present under the haze of weed and fires made with briquettes.
But maybe all groups of friends were destined to disintegrate eventually?
