Page 108 of Fling

On each wall, he had stuck dozens of photos of the two of them during the best years of their lives, their smiles glimmering on every wall. Photos of them in different European cities on their Interrail trip, photos of them in their old studio apartment – the walls were covered with pictures. Old concert tickets, wristbands from music festivals, boarding passes. He had even hung up hundreds of fairy lights that looked like fireflies in the night.

The room was alive with their love.

Tara walked over to the bar and pulled gently on the tap. To her further surprise, a drop of Guinness came out. He had even installed a real tap connected to a real keg. The middle of the room had a small wooden table and chairs. On the table and all along the bar were wine bottles with large candlesticks stuck inside. The wine bottles that Colin had never taken to the bottle bank suddenly looked so beautiful. Behind the bar, he had framed her old work uniform as well as the paper she had written about Synth Wave Feminism. He had got a red pen and changed her 49 per cent grade to 149 per cent, with an added note that said ‘Feminist icon’. She began to laugh as the tears fell down her face.

How had he done it?

It felt like a miracle beyond her comprehension. The amount of work it would have required to magically recreate O’Malley’s was enormous. She had only been gone for one weekend and apparently Colin had spent every one of the forty-eight hours working on rebuilding the place they first met. That must have been why he had passed out on the couch, covered in specks of paint. And that morning he had asked Tara to come to the shed with him. It was all making sense now. But still, it seemed as if Colin had done the work of three men. Having revisited O’Malley’s so recently, she could see the attention to detail was impeccable. It was a living, breathing replica. But it was more than that.

It was a museum of their memories, a monument to their marriage.

Then what Tara saw on one of the bar stools broke her. It was Colin’s UCD college hoody. The hoody she had claimed as her own. The fabric that hugged her body whenever she missed him. She wanted to put on the hoody and belong to him again. But how could she? She was no longer his.

Tara felt the knot in her stomach tighten as a wave of nausea came over her. In that moment, she would have given anything to turn back time. If only she could go back to the moment when she and Colin had lost each other. She wanted nothing more than for him to hold her in his arms.

But what did Colin want?

As the tears rolled down her face, ruining her make-up, she thought about Colin’s dream of being a father. His dream that hadn’t come true. Starting a family was all he ever wanted and, as much as she wished otherwise, it hadn’t happened. He was still young and handsome. He would find someone new with ease. Maybe the person he was meeting in that hotel room had feelings for him. Maybe she could make him happy. Maybe she could give him a family.

Although it hurt that Colin had found a new flower to tend to, maybe he deserved one that could bear his fruit. She knew he would be the best father imaginable. A proper dad, as he described it. The kind he never had and always vowed he would become. It would kill her to see him with another wife and a family, but this this wasn’t about her. She had been selfish. She had become so obsessed with discovering her destiny that she hadn’t once paused to consider Colin’s fate. If ever a man was destined to be a dad, it was him.

She thought about that old adage that if you love someone you should set them free, and if they come back to you, it was meant to be. She loved Colin and, despite everything, she didn’t begrudge him a thing. All she wanted was for him to be happy, and if she couldn’t do that, she had to let him go.

He deserved to be happy.

She wished she could be the one to make him happy, but maybe that was beyond her control. And if she ran to Colin now, she would forever be tormented by the idea of Jack. Why had she experienced the synchronicity? Why had her entire life crumbled around her as a result? She couldn’t live the rest of her life without answers to these questions. She knew going to the pier was the only way to get her answers. And she knew she couldn’t stop herself. She needed some kind of closure.

Tara went back inside and looked at the unsigned separation agreement. She knew signing it now would be too emotional and she couldn’t risk ruining her make-up any further. She stuffed the papers into her handbag and checked her watch.

2.01 p.m.

She was due to be there in less than an hour and she dared not be late. She pulled herself together and went upstairs to get ready. She reminded herself that everything had been leading up to this very moment. And even if that moment didn’t happen, it would still give Tara the answers she needed to close the chapter on Jack.

He still hadn’t replied to her message so the chances of his showing up were essentially zero. But it didn’t matter. Because even if she didn’t have a date with Jack, one thing remained the same.

Tara had a date with destiny.

Chapter 38

Colin sat slouched on Rory’s couch in his pyjamas, eating a large bowl of cereal. This was what most of his free time consisted of since his separation from Tara. His new beard had gone from stylish to wiry and he lacked any motivation to get out of his rut. It wasn’t quite rock bottom but it did feel that way at times. He lost the love of his life and the home they shared. But worst of all, he lost his future with Tara. His current situation was only temporary, of course, but it was hard to see past it.

Rory’s apartment was essentially one big man cave in the form of an open-plan loft. There were vintage Playboy covers unapologetically hung on the wall, a fully stocked bar in the living room and an eighty-inch TV, a dream to watch any match on. It was impeccably clean, but at the same time, Colin suspected if he saw the room under an ultraviolet light, he would go blind. There was no doubt that if those walls could talk, they’d scream.

‘Are you still in bed?’ Rory said, coming out from his bedroom.

‘I’m not in bed, I’m on the couch,’ Colin said defensively.

‘Yeah, but you’re sleeping on my couch, which technically means you’ve been in bed all day. Get up, we’re playing a game of pool.’

‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘I wasn’t asking. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s people feeling sorry for themselves. Now get up already.’

Rory was right. Colin couldn’t lick his wounds forever. And to be fair, he was very fond of Rory’s red suede pool table, the perfect addition to any bachelor pad.

‘OK, fine,’ Colin said, getting up. ‘I’m still just feeling a bit lost.’

‘I get it, man,’ Rory said, racking up the balls. ‘But you have to get back up on the horse. There are plenty of women out there waiting for a man like you.’

---