‘Wait until I tell Burim. It has to be a lot easier to get to France than here, right?’
Burim?Was this the guy their mum was worried about? She should be trying desperately to dull Erin’s excitement, because there was no way her little sister was coming with her – and it wasn’t Paris she was going to either – but maybe she could use this current travel effervescence to her advantage…
‘So, Burim, you… haven’t told me about him,’ Orla said as their drinks and muffins arrived.
Erin shot her a straight look. ‘How do you know Burim is male?’
‘What?’
‘Well, it’s not like I just said “David”, is it? Burim could be a female name, so why did you assume it was male?’
Orla always seemed to underestimate exactly how whip-smart her sister was. But, in her defence, Erin did tend to go from going full-on dreamy eye-lash-lifted eyes over anything the colour pink to laser-focussed-on-the-details top barrister in a miniscule amount of time.
‘IsBurim female?’ Orla asked.
‘Areyouasking me? Or is Mum?’
Damn, she was good. And, as a journalist, Orla ought to sharpen up her ability to get people to divulge things they hadn’t planned to.Travel in Mindmagazine was an eclectic mix ofNational GeographicmeetsTimewith a spattering ofCondé Nast Traveller. Although, this past year, most of her features had been about places or animals, not people. She’d been getting to the heart of heathlands and the apex of the animal kingdom, finding those unique stories that made their magazine stand out amongst its peers. Perhaps if she focussed much more on the pregnant reindeer than the mute man, it would be more in her comfort zone…
‘You don’t have to answer that,’ Erin said when Orla hadn’t immediately replied. ‘I saw Mum’s message to you earlier.’
‘You read Mum’s messages,’ Orla exclaimed, a whole catalogue of things she had sent her mum about Erin raining down on her mind like the stringy ribbons from party poppers.
‘Who doesn’t have an app that reads people’s messages these days?’ Erin rolled her eyes.
‘I don’t,’ Orla replied. ‘Because that is an invasion of privacy.’
‘As is Mum getting all pretending like she cares over someone I’m in a situationship with.’
‘So, Burimisa guy.’
‘Sorry, do you even know the word “situationship”?’
‘I’m aware of its meaning and that it’s usually not of a platonic nature. I also know it’s generally ended by the guy who, five messages before, has called you “ml” and said he hopesyou sleep well and the rest of the chat is the girl saying “good morning”, “wyd”, “is everything OK?”, “have I done something wrong?” until we get to “Merry Christmas” and “Happy New Year” when eventually she dries her eyes, picks up her self-respect and moves on.’ She took a breath as all those oh-so-relatable phrases she’d just spewed out gave her flashbacks.
Erin looked impressed. ‘That was so accurate to what Marla’s been through at least seven times now.’
‘Erin,’ Orla said. ‘Mum’s worried you’re spending a lot of time focussed on Burim and not concentrating on college.’
‘Mum should spend less time poking her nose into what I’m doing and more time focussing on Dad and his drink problem.’
‘What?’
‘Hmm,’ Erin said, picking up her coffee. ‘I bet she didn’t tell you anything about that, did she? Got so drunk last week he fell down the steps outside the chip shop and ended up in A&E with concussion.’
Orla knew her dad liked a few pints at the weekend with his friends and there was nothing wrong with that. Everyone did it, didn’t they? And who hadn’t had a little slip of their footing when on a night out? It usually happened right before kebab sustenance was required then on to the Uber home.
‘Well, Keith can go a bit over the top on their nights out and he encourages Dad to try drinks he isn’t used to,’ Orla reminded.
‘Oh, sorry, didn’t I say? This was ten in the morning. Keith was probably at work. You know, the thing our dad doesn’t do any more because he took early retirement?’
Shit. Why hadn’t her mum told her anything about this? This was far more urgent than Erin talking to a guy on Insta. Then she had a thought: maybe that was why she’d been sent down this rabbit hole, as a distraction technique.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Erin whispered like she was a conspirator in a government overthrow plot. ‘You think Mumhas given you the task of asking about Burim as a distraction technique from the real shit that’s going down with Dad.’
‘No,’ Orla said immediately. ‘Of course not.’
‘Ha!’ Erin replied. ‘Not even the muffin believes you.’
