Page 50 of Chaos Theory

FORTY-SEVEN

Shane holds out the mug of peppermint tea, handle pointing at me. He winces but doesn’t vocalise the heat his fingers must surely be suffering.

I accept it gratefully. It’s a while since I’ve been in Shane’s open-plan living room slash kitchen. I realise I’ve missed these bare plasterboard walls, the deflated leatherette couch, the deserted kitchen island.

‘God, I don’t remember this place being so…so…student-y?’ I say to tease him.

‘Student living means student prices.’

I sense a well-rehearsed speech is about to begin, and I’m not wrong.

‘This place is a living legacy. Passed down through generations of sublets for years. You wouldn’t believe how cheap the rent is.

We think maybe the landlord died or forgot about it – that’s why it hasn’t been painted or anything in years.

We just keep quiet and try to maintain the delicate ecosystem.

If explorers ever come interfering, the native species might die.

If not literally, at least financially.’

‘But what if something breaks?’

‘We fix it ourselves.’

‘Really?’

I nod towards the perfect arc of a large crack in the front window.

‘It’s on the list. It’s Alek’s turn to sort it though.’

I’ve only met Shane’s housemate once. Nice enough.

Second-generation Polish. Parents probably came to Dublin for the great construction boom of the early 2000s.

You’d think with all that building work there’d be plenty of places to rent now, but the truth is that Shane is lucky to have found anything affordable.

So many people have left the city because they couldn’t make it work.

He joins me on the sofa. His descent into the couch momentarily buoys my end, then we both gradually sink down again. The battered old girl has seen better days for sure, but there’s life in her yet.

‘So tell me more about today,’ he says. ‘I read your email highlights this afternoon. Sounds like it was eventful.’

I sigh, take a tiny sip. ‘It was…a lot. A lot of big things coming at me very fast.’

‘Lucky you.’ He smirks into his mug of builder’s tea. The milky fin of a teabag threatens the surface.

I grab a limp cushion – the only loose cushion residing in the entire house, I’m pretty sure – and lightly bop it against his arm. ‘Behave!’

I can’t help but smile – and notice how his bicep deflects the puny assault with the merest flex.

‘Watch the tea!’ He places his mug on the wooden table. No sign of a coaster, of course. ‘This is a classy joint, you know. We have standards.’

I sigh into my mug.

‘What’s up?’

‘I just have a lot to think about, and I have to do it quickly.’

‘Well, that suits you. You’re good at thinking. Everything after that – well, the jury’s still out. ’

I see him eye the sole living heir of Cushion Kingdom warily, bracing for another attack. But I just clutch my tea closer, nestling it to my chest like a mama bird nurturing a fledgling.

‘What is there to think about, really, though?’ he continues. ‘You said it was your dream job in the email.’

I blow gently on the tea, inhaling its minty warmth in return. ‘I said it sounded like a dream job.’

‘Ah now. You’ve done the study, you’ve put the work in, and now you have the experience. It makes sense that this would be the next logical step.’

‘But what if I mess up or, you know, disappoint them? What if they think I’m one person, but I’m really someone else? All joking aside, I really don’t know what I’m doing.’

As I’m saying it, I wonder if I’m talking about more than just work. What happens when you take a risk, let someone in?

He turns towards me, speaks quietly. ‘Maeve, let me let you in on a little secret: none of us know what we’re doing.’

‘But what if it doesn’t work out?’

‘None of us know if things will work out. But we’re still supposed to try.’

I don’t speak as I try to absorb this.

‘Wise words.’ I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘When did you get so wise?’

‘Hey, we’re not talking about me right now. I don’t understand what’s holding you back. It’s not like you particularly love Go Ireland. Besides, JP said you’d still have your job there whenever you wanted to come back.’

I sigh into my mug again, blowing up steam. Shane looks good through the mist. I suddenly can’t bear to withhold anything from him. I bite the bullet.

‘It’s because of Josh.’

I sit back, look straight ahead.

‘I don’t want to work with him. I can’t face it after, after – you know… ’

I let that hang in the air, unsure how to continue. I feel so foolish, letting myself be strung along by Josh, in every sense.

Shane doesn’t say anything, and I can’t bring myself to make eye contact. I’m suddenly very interested in examining the mug I’m holding. Merchandise for a band I’ve never heard of: Zombie Police.

Finally, he makes an indeterminate noise.

‘Ah, you can’t let a bit of awkwardness ruin this for you. It’s too good to say no to. It sounds like RoboTron really want you. You’re actually in a position of strength. Maybe you could negotiate some good terms before you accept.’

I’m suddenly overwhelmed by his kindness. His concern for my well-being. His wanting of the best for me. His willingness to overlook my flaws.

He’s here for me. He’s always been here for me. I want to put my tea down, put my hand on his chest, melt into him. But I find that I can’t move. My body is stiff, frozen.

I take a tiny sip from my mug, then hold it up in front of me. ‘Were the police force turned into zombies, or were they a special unit deployed to fight the zombies?’

He laughs. ‘Alek’s latest band. Confrontational. But fun.’

On my way home I leave a voice note for Jen, asking her advice about RoboTron. She sends me one back saying the doctor has put her on bed rest until the baby is due, but she reckons I should ‘go for it’.

When I get home, I call Ron’s number. He doesn’t answer, but I leave him a voice note: ‘ Ron, I gratefully accept your offer. On one condition: I don’t have to work with Josh. ’