The Break-Up Clause by Niamh Hargan
Chapter Forty-Seven
Later that morning, they’re in the office when the phone on Fia’s desk rings.
‘Oh my God, it’s her!’ Fia blurts out, as soon as she sees the caller ID. Benjamin glances up from his work.
‘Who?’ he asks.
‘Alyvia Chestnut,’ she replies. It’s been over a week now with zero contact. Truthfully, though, Fia can’t say she’s given the whole situation much thought. She hasn’t wondered why Alyvia hasn’t been in touch or what that might mean. She hasn’t even been checking up on BabyGAndMe. She’s had other things on her mind.
‘Well, answer it!’ Benjamin urges her.
Fia does, and for the ten minutes that follow, she barely gets a word in edgeways. Alyvia talks and talks – and, try as Fia might to convey the situation to Benjamin with her eyes, she cannot. Then, at a certain point, she needs to give the other woman her full attention. It’s actually more and more sobering, the longer she listens. At points, she is fairly certain that Alyvia is either crying or trying not to cry.
Fia makes all sorts of noises – sympathy, surprise, back to sympathy again – until eventually her client falls silent on the other end of the line. And, given the chance to properly contribute at last, Fia finds she isn’t sure what to say.
‘Alyvia, I’m, uh, I’m just going to put you on hold here for a sec, okay?’ she manages eventually, barely waiting for agreement before she starts pressing buttons on her handset. ‘I’ll be right back! I promise, just … yeah! Two seconds!’
She looks over at Benjamin then, realizing that in fact she’ll need many more than one, two or even three seconds to explain all of this. Where to start? By now, Benjamin is reabsorbed in his own task, having long since given up the attempt to follow along.
‘Well,’ she says, throwing her hands up in the air a little bit, as though in surrender, ‘you were right.’
Benjamin looks over at her, and the wickedness in his expression is now intimately familiar to her. ‘Oh, Fia. Could you say that again, but slower? Maybe come sit on my lap, whisper it in my ear?’
Even in the midst of a second-hand crisis, she can’t help but snigger. ‘Stop it! This is serious!’ she says. She reaches for a balled-up page on her desk, chucking it in his direction, then hopes nobody out in the atrium has witnessed it. That could probably be termed workplace bullying – or workplace flirting.
‘So, what?’ he asks then, paying attention now, leaning back in his chair a little. ‘… The kid’s not our troll after all, is he?’
Given he was the first one to come up with the notion, Fia doesn’t know why he’s now acting surprised about it. ‘Benjamin! Yes! That was your whole theory, remember?’
‘I mean, it was just a theory!’ comes the reply. ‘But, so … he’s admitted it? For real?’
‘Yep.’
Benjamin exhales, his breath coming out long and slow as he assimilates the new development. ‘What’d Alyvia say, then?’ he asks. ‘Turns out Gus doesn’t want to be 15 years old and posing with a fucking artisanal train set for likes and clicks?’
Despite herself, Fia laughs grimly. ‘Pretty much, yeah. I think he just wanted to stop and didn’t know how to broach it.’
‘A hundred per cent fair, if you ask me. Give it another ten years, and all these influencers’ kids are gonna be filing lawsuits against their parents on the daily.’
‘Well, maybe. But, obviously, the way Gus went about this was … y’know. Terrible. And, my God, it sounds like they’ve had a hellish week. Gus is upset, and Alyvia’s upset that he’s upset. Also, she’s sort of raging at him, though, so … it’s just a whole big mess.’
‘Does she want him to keep doing the posts?’
‘I don’t think so, but the reality is she’s pretty screwed, income-wise, if he doesn’t. The sponsors don’t really give a shit about her selfies and brunch porn, apparently.’
Benjamin chuckles, and Fia feels compelled to clarify, for purposes of accuracy: ‘I mean, that’s not how she put it, but that’s the gist. That’s not even the biggest problem, though. Jonathan – Mister Let Me Flaunt My New Love on Facebook – he knows now, too. And, of course, he says he’s just devastated to learn that his son’s been so desperately unhappy all this time, blah blah. This is all his Christmases come at once, though, isn’t it? In terms of the custody arrangements.’
Benjamin raises both eyebrows, a sharp intake of breath giving way to another heavy exhale. For a moment, he says nothing, but Fia can tell his mind is working. He’s weighing it all up.
‘Well, look, when all’s said and done, I guess none of that is our fault,’ he says then.
Fia’s unconvinced, though. ‘Mmm. I don’t know. Maybe if my arsey letter hadn’t been quite so arsey …’ She trails off, her brow furrowing in worry. ‘Alyvia could lose her kid here. And she does love Gus. He loves her. Okay, she’s a bit of a melter, and she’s made some mistakes. Does that make her a completely unfit parent?’
‘No,’ Benjamin says, ‘it doesn’t.’
And the endorsement means something to Fia. She knows that, on this subject and probably most others besides, he definitely wouldn’t agree with her just to agree with her.
She glances over at the telephone, aware they’ve kept their client hanging for some time now. ‘Bottom line is, Alyvia’s going to get killed in court. We won’t be able to stop it.’
Benjamin presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and for a moment, he looks every bit as glum as Fia feels. ‘Well, no,’ he offers then. ‘But maybe we know someone who can.’
‘What?’ Fia replies, all confusion.
He nods towards the phone. ‘Put Alyvia on speaker.’
‘What?’ she repeats.
‘Just put her on speaker.’
And it might be her faith in him or it might be lack of other options that makes Fia do precisely as she’s told.
‘Alyvia!’ Benjamin says smoothly, once they’ve reconnected the line. ‘Hi. It’s Benjamin. Fia read me in. We’re so sorry to hear about how everything’s gone this week. Have you, uh …’
He winces, his eyes travelling over to Fia’s, as though he’s half amused by, half apprehensive about the thing he must say next.
‘… Have you ever heard of an Exploratory Reconciliation and Reflection Discussion?’