Between Us

by Mhairi McFarlane

Perhaps that was the magic of any holiday: it lifted you out of the familiar and gave you a brief aerial view of your life in progress. It made you confront your world’s smallness in a vastness of opportunity.

At some point, Roisin accepted get past this week and things will calm down a bit was a coping mechanism lie of adulthood.

“There is nothing worse on this blue planet than ‘team building,’” Matt said.

In last-minute regret, as they took their seats in Benbarrow’s plush screening room, Roisin wondered if what she’d thought was charming and relaxed might’ve in fact been reckless to the point of negligent.

There being no correct and appropriate moment to raise any problem was one of the ways the game felt rigged. Pick an otherwise pressured time? She was thoughtlessly adding to it. During a nice evening out? Ruining it. Try to raise it on a quiet day? Ambush.

She hadn’t realized how broken she was, until someone acknowledged it.

“I know. I realize I’ve spent a lot of time thinking that because we don’t have kids yet, I could disappear into workaholism. Make these the empire-building years, for both our sakes. It wasn’t fair not to explain that, to put your life on hold. It wasn’t okay to not be a partner.”

I got sidetracked and let you think you were irrelevant, rather than the reason. You are . . . undemanding. That sounds a bad word, and yet I mean it as the highest praise. You’ve never been needy, and lately it meant I took the piss.”

“Matt. My dad once said you often regret cowardice but you never regret bravery.”

“I promise you, we can always tell each other the truth, with no fear of shame. Secrets end up poisoning the person keeping them, I think.”