“Let’s start simple.” Blá’s the one to draw first blood. “The boxes downstairs, those are your ex’s, right? You’re not upping sticks and moving house?” The way her forehead is furrowed makes me laugh. She hopped a plane on the night of my disastrous wedding to go to Canada to see her family.
Neither of us have done very well at keeping in touch, but she’s been suspiciously quiet. Radio silence with Blá usually isn’t good, and if I were less self-involved I’d have realized that and reached out to her.
But at the same time, Matthew has been right here in Larne, and I’ve barely spoken to him since my wedding day either.
If I could have hidden from my sisters sometimes, I’d have withdrawn there, too. Not to mention: Croatia, rugby, fake boyfriend. I’ve had a lot going on in the last few weeks.
“Those are George’s. He doesn’t have the balls to come pick them up. And I’m not making it easier on him.” Translation: I don’t want to message him, hear his voice, or see him, because there’s a real chance I’ll punch him in the face.
“You could always add it to the pile around the road for the twelfth.” Bláthnaid takes a drink.
Matthew shakes his head. “They only take pallets. No fly-tipping, Rhi.” He’s got his stern, politician voice on right now while sipping on a margarita with not one but two paper umbrellas in it because he’s just that extra.
“We could have our own fire. A wee call to 9-9-9 could bring some hot firemen into our lives.”
That makes me smile. “I have enough men in my life right now, thanks. Too many, one could argue.”
“Yeaaaaaaah.” Matthew draws the word out. “One minute you’re banging him in the Anchor bathroom, and the next you’re East Antrim’s hottest couple.”
Bláthnaid gasps.
“You didn’t tell her?” Matthew throws a peanut at me, but I don’t catch it with my mouth.
“She didnot. She hasn’t told me anything. Neither of you have. A girl goes away for a few weeks, and sleepy Larne comes alive with the best gossip the town’s ever seen, and I hear none of it. You’re terrible friends.”
My tears bubble back to the surface. “After my wedding, I wanted to reclaim my sense of self.” I sniff. “But that’s hard to do when I feel like I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore. I lost one of my best friends.”
Both Matthew and Bláthnaid clear their throats and share a glance.
“Two, really, if you count George.”
Anothersomethingpasses between them. “What?”
“Isla and George were never your besties, boo.” Blá’s voice is soft, like she’s addressing a child. It’s right, and for once, the mention of my ex and my ex-who-I-thought-was-a-friend doesn’t make my stomach hurt or my chest cave in a bit.
That’s good, right? Growth?
“I’ve decided I’m not going to slash his tires, or anything to invoke revenge.” I pop some meat in my mouth and chew thoughtfully. “I was going to, but I just…” I wave a hand.
“Can’t be fucked?” Matthew supplies, making me nod. “And now I’m knee-deep in this… thing with Robert.” They don’t know it’s fake, nor are they allowed to. I need to sell it to them as much as to anyone else in the world.
“It…didhappen a little fast,” Matthew hedges. “You seem to really like him.” He clears his throat again. “Gotten attached a little quickly even?”
I swallow, because while it started off as fake, while I keep up the pretense with Robert that it’s still fake, the fluttering in my chest every time I think of him doesn’t feel fake. I ignore the way Matthew’s voice rose at the end of that sentence.
“I set myself a list of things to do in the thirty days beforemy birthday, to try to help myself move forward, to figure out who I am without those fuckers in my life. My birthday is days away, and I’m nowhere near finished ticking things off.”
My friends stay quiet as I take a massive glug of my margarita. “Am I forever destined to be the woman who lets life happentoher, instead of choosing my own direction?” I’ve said too much. My friends don’t know the relationship with Robert was somewhat thrust upon me, and from the way they share a confused and cautious glance, they’re definitely lost in my narrative.
“I just feel a little like I’m being swept up in the media circus, like I wasn’t given time to feel out this relationship before it was thrust into the public eye, you know?”
Slow nods, more silence.
“All I’ve ever wanted to do was be the best rugby player I could be.”
“And not disappoint Daddy Dearest.” Matthew tilts his tumbler at me. “Standing up for yourself at the wedding was a massive win, Rhiannon. Stepping out from under that crippling Morrigan family expectation? That’s huge.”
“Exactly,” confirms Bláthnaid. “Even as a kid, you were always so eager to stay within the lines, so you didn’t get in trouble with Daddy Morrigan.”
