The Break-Up Clause by Niamh Hargan

Chapter Thirty-Nine

So it is that, by Sunday, Fia’s about to leave Dublin, and some significant part of her is thinking about staying – or rather, about returning. Permanently.

Precisely why that’s happened now – as opposed to two years ago, or three years ago – is hard to say. Fia lies in her childhood bedroom on the last morning of her trip, turning the whole thing over in her mind. It is, she decides, probably a combination of factors.

Part of it must simply be that, having spent last Christmas in New York, she’d been away for so long, this time. And, on this trip home, more than on any other, she’s had the sense of things changing here. People just haven’t had the decency to stay where she put them.

Of course, Maeve’s engagement is the biggest example. Babies will surely follow the marriage, and some day all too soon, the conversation that Fia had with her friend Lauren this past week is the one she’ll be having with Maeve. They will not love each other less, but they will inevitably have less in common, their window for gadding about as equals all but over.

In truth, though, is not only Maeve’s engagement. Fia also can see, in the smallest of ways, that her parents are getting older. Any time she feels homesick in New York, she often reminds herself that home will always be there. People have said that to her, over the years, and the phrase has stuck with her, comforted her. However, this past week, it has struck Fia (profoundly, irrefutably, and for the first time ever) that in truth her home will not always be here. Not the way it is now.

In the time she’s lived in New York, she’s lucky that her family have had the money and the energy for frequent visits. They have gone up the Empire State Building and the Freedom Tower and Top of the Rock – together, they have climbed more or less any structure that can be climbed in Manhattan. So many great pictures, great memories. But for how long will those trips continue, once there are infants in the mix, once advancing age begins to do what it does?

And, although it is perhaps less exciting than jetting off to the Big Apple, there is something equally lovely about the way that Maeve will always – even when she officially moves out – be able to call into their parents’ house unannounced. Or the way that Eoin can drive up from Cork and be home within a few hours if necessary. Fia can see that she is missing things, here – all sorts of little threads of connectivity – and she’s reminded again of her mother’s saying: There is no such thing as quality time. There is only time.

Added to all that, of course, is the small matter of her own age. Thirty (and counting). Fia can’t rule out the idea that she’s unnecessarily hung up on the milestone, but still – she feels how she feels. Don’t people always say that New York is a city for one’s twenties – that you should get out, before it makes you hard?

Professionally speaking, the last four years in Manhattan have been one long phase of Working Like A Demon. That’s what she’d call the album, if she were a musician. As for romantically, she might define the era, broadly, as Kissing Random People. And maybe those are exactly the things she should have been doing in this time period. She’s learned some lessons, had some fun, made some money.

She feels like she can see the new decade stretching out in front of her, though. This is the time. The decisions she makes in these next couple of years will probably decide – in practical, rather than necessarily philosophical, ways – who she is for the rest of her life. Where she puts her time matters now, in a way it didn’t before.

What if she gets to sixty, and realizes that she’s done all the wrong things? What if it doesn’t take anywhere near that long? That night on the rooftop with Benjamin, telling him that she loved New York – as if it were just that simple – suddenly seems a long time ago.

She lies in her childhood bedroom on Sunday morning and thinks again about those $10 raspberries she bought from Whole Foods, about her upstairs neighbour whom she has to hear having sex and listening to terrible music. She thinks even about Annie and Kavita – about how their version of domesticity, as nice as it can often feel, is surely not destined to last. Maybe the end has already begun, in fact, with the arrival of Annie’s promising new man.

Where would that leave Fia? If George Ferarra has taught her anything, it is that even the best of friends can ultimately disappear without a trace. Will her life in New York eventually come to feel like one long Fourth of July weekend? She’s considered it something of an achievement, the way she can fit into the city almost seamlessly these days. But belonging. There is something deeper, more elemental, to that. She has a sense of belonging in Dublin that hasn’t gone away. That is undeniable.

By Sunday afternoon, she’s at the airport, killing time at the departure gate, when her phone buzzes in her hand. She looks down at the text. It’s from Ryan Sieman and, even at first glance, it’s a bit of a change from all their previous one-liners and emojis.

Hey Fia. Sorry we didn’t end up getting to spend much time together over the Summer Summit this year. I hope I didn’t do anything to upset you? Obviously, our thing has been going on for a while now, and I can only think that maybe you have been wanting something more from me – like, some sort of commitment? Sorry if I’ve just been really blind to this! I totally get that you don’t want to do the casual thing forever, and it was probably on me to step up this year!

Fia’s first urge, when she finishes reading, is to laugh out loud. She actually does laugh out loud. Men are sometimes too hilarious. They profess to want women who want no-strings relationships with them, but they also fundamentally do not believe such women can exist. Even as Fia chuckles, though, another text pops up.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re great. I’m truly sorry if you didn’t know that. And, message received loud and clear. Actually, I think you’re probably right – maybe it’s time for us to make a real go of things (assuming you want to, that is)? Obviously, you’re still in New York at the moment and everything, but I have it on pretty good authority that the partners in the Dublin office would have you back here in a heartbeat. Damien McNulty is such a fan, he’s ready to have T-shirts printed with your face on them. And I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of you either ;)

Fia lets out another little exhale of disbelief. Her instinct is to forward both messages to her sister or to her roommates – to find the fun in them. But she stops herself, tries to take all of this at face value, to take it seriously.

Could this be some sort of sign?

Before her, at least figuratively, is a 30-something single man from Dublin. He works hard, and at the weekend, he likes to go surfing on the coast. He takes two-week holidays to Thailand – she would like to go to Thailand – and he’s attractive and enjoyable to be around. This year more than ever, actually, she found herself genuinely appreciating his company at the Summer Summit. He never makes her feel jittery or confused. Even his vast mischaracterization of her feelings, as plain to see from these texts, somehow seems to strike her as more comical than aggravating. She doesn’t actually think Ryan would have the capacity to really piss her off.

In short, she could probably do a lot, lot worse.

And as for the job portion of it all … well, maybe that’s something to think about, too. Another thing.