Page 35 of The Rebound
“Too busy with work?” Beth guesses.
I nod. “There were redundancies at MacFarlane, hindsight now, of course, but back then we didn’t think anything of it. But it meant I was working more than usual, and on top of that, Tyler signed this big client and it was just crazy. He was sometimes gone for weeks at a time. We became one of those couples who saw each other on the weekends but we thought it would be okay. I mean, we discussed it.”
“Discussed it?”
“Yes.” That was what we did. We talked. We were honest with each other and we got to the point of things. It was how we avoided petty fights, annoying “small talk” as Tyler always called it. We didn’t waste time because we didn’t have time. “It was part of our plan,” I explain. “We both knew we were working hard now for a later payoff. We both had demanding jobs. That’s why we worked so well together. Or at least that’s what I thought.”
“You don’t think he cheated on you, do you?”
I shake my head. “He would have told me.”
Beth makes a noise.
“What?”
“You think he would have told you if he cheated on you?”
“Not while it was happening,” I say. “But if that were the reason for breaking up with me then, yes, he would have. Obviously, I’ve had some doubts but I don’t think he would have done that to me. Hell, I don’t think he had time to. But that still doesn’t mean I’m going to step one foot inside his apartment. Even if he’s not there.”
Beth props her chin on her hand, thoughtful. “What about your friends? Can’t you stay with them?”
“They’re not doing much better than me. Nearly everyone I know worked at MacFarlane. They’re too busy trying to rescue their own lives to help rescue mine as well. And others…” I think to Jess. “I just couldn’t face crawling on my hands and knees to them.”
“Asking for help doesn’t mean you need to crawl.”
“That’s what it felt like.”
Beth leans forward, almost toppling her glass as she does so. “Have you ever thought about staying here? I don’t mean in Clonard. But Cork or Dublin. Up to Belfast. We’ve got cities on this island too, you know.”
“No. It’s too small. The whole draw of the rest of the world was anonymity. Some people love knowing everyone else,” I add. “But it’s not for me. I’ve never felt like myself here. Over there I found people who got it. Who gotme. I never had to explain why I am the way I am or why I do the work I do. I liked my job. I loved my job. And I liked making money. I know you’re not supposed to but I did. I liked buying nice things and eating in nice restaurants and I liked not having to worry about bills or rent or what I would do if something happened. I knew what I would do. I would pay for it.”
“With all your money.”
“Exactly.” I flex my fingers, staring at the ring. “I liked being busy. It motivated me. I liked working at the highest level with people who were smarter than me because it meant I would get smarter. I liked solving people’s problems. I really liked making reports. Some people hated doing reports but not me. I was good at it. I wasgreatat it. And I worked for years to get to where I was only for it to be taken from me in the space of few minutes by a security guard with a cardboard box.” The pressure in my chest rises again and I focus on Beth, pushing it back down. “I liked my life,” I say. “I don’t want another one.”
“So that’s your only goal?” she asks after a moment. “Get the hell out of Dodge?”
“And never look back.”
She looks like she wants to say something but, whatever it is, she thinks the better of it, sitting back in her seat. “You know. At times like this I find there’s only really one solution.”
We get drunk.
Another bottle of wine turns to shots and I barely notice the time go by. Beth is… fun. A lot of fun. Less extreme than Jess, where I never knew what was going to happen when I was with her. Warmer than when I went out with people from work, when every conversation involved an undercurrent of one-upmanship. She tells me all about her ex’s farm and the three weeks he lasted running it. She tells me about deciding to stay in Clonard, about the community she found here, and though her descriptions of this place are so at odds with my own memories, I bite my tongue even as the alcohol loosens it. Clonard needs people like her. I just hope everyone realizes it in time.
By the time they kick us out, we’re holding on to each other, half because of the wine, half because Beth insists we’re best friends now, and she’s yawning as she leads me to the street.
“Do you want to split a taxi?” she asks.
“I’ll walk. I need the air.”
“You can’t walk.”
“I’m twenty minutes away.” I urge her toward the short line of cars waiting outside the pub. “It’s Clonard. I’ll be fine.”
She’s too drunk to argue but sticks her head out the window when she gets in, her face open and earnest. “Don’t be a stranger this time,” she says, and she sounds so genuine that I don’t know how to respond, only offering a small wave as the car drives off.
I watch until she disappears around a corner and only then begin to wander home, not wanting the night to end just yet. I feel lighter. And yes, that is probably the wine coursing through me, but I have a feeling it’s also from seeing a friendly face and getting to talk about my problems even if I didn’t solve them.
