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AUGUST 1998
Erin wanted to make one thing clear: she loved Derry. It felt important, to clarify that - especially as it was the night before she left it for four years of university in Scotland. She loved Derry, with every part of her heart and soul, the city etched deep into her bones, at the core of who she was - Erin Quinn could have been a very different girl, if she’d grown up somewhere else. But, she didn’t: she’d grown up in Derry, and so the city she called home now would forever be, well, home.
Derry was changing - for the better, Erin hoped, but that wouldn’t become clear for another while yet. Derry was changing, the city she knew so well entering a new era, the Good Friday Agreement approved on all sides of the border, people beginning to hope that their future could be a peaceful one. May had rolled into August, the summer slow, and syrupy sweet, the days feeling endless, and too quick, all the same, passing faster than Erin had been ready for.
The lights of the city glittered in front of her as Erin watched on from her spot on the walls, drinking in the sight of her home before she set off for university in the morning.
“I thought I might find you here,” a voice drew her attention, Erin twisting to see James standing a few metres away, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her carefully.
Erin gestured vaguely. “Yeah,” she managed. “You found me.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Erin shook her head, watching as James eased himself up and onto the cool stone of the wall beside her. Derry was never very quiet, but it felt quieter that evening, the noise of people going about their lives background noise as she watched James settle next to her.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” she asked after a beat of silence.
James shrugged. “I think I can guess,” he said, because over the last year, James had developed this uncanny ability to read into Erin’s every thought, and so it didn’t surprise her that he knew. Well, Erin supposed - it wasn’t hard to guess why she was here, sitting on the city walls, instead of watching her mother go through the packing list for the fifth time that day.
“Everything is changing,” Erin said, letting out a shaky breath. This week - it had been full of goodbyes.
They’d gone to the airport with Clare and her mammy on Tuesday, waving goodbye from the departures hall as Clare had headed for the security gate, and her new life in London, away to university about as far as she could get from Derry. Erin understood, really, she did - for Clare, Derry was filled with the ghost of her father, the man sitting quietly on every street corner, a reminder that he never saw Clare finish school, never got to vote in the referendum, never saw his beloved Northern Ireland start on the slow march to peace. No, Erin could understand why Clare needed to leave - but for a moment, clinging to Michelle’s hand, Erin had wished that the day hadn’t come and that Clare hadn’t felt like she needed to go.
It was hypocritical of her, she knew - Erin herself was off to Glasgow in the morning, a place at the University of Glasgow on their English Literature course waiting for her. She’d applied on a whim, and told nobody, until UCAS had come through and informed her that she’d been given an unconditional offer at Glasgow to study her dream degree. It had been her mammy, who’d told her she should go, Mary wiping away Erin’s confused tears as she’d reassured her daughter that it was okay, and she should go, and follow her dreams, and her, and her daddy, would always support her - no matter where in the world she was.
James was staying. That had been the biggest plot twist of it all - if their lives were a novel, and James staying in Northern Ireland could be considered a plot twist rather than a thoughtfully made life choice - but Erin could understand why he was staying. James hadn’t said it in as many words, but here, in Derry, he’d found a place to call home for the first time, and so it made sense that he wasn’t willing to go very far, English and Film Studies at Queen's University Belfast his new home as of September.
“It is, aye,” James agreed, and Erin couldn’t help but smile at the Derry lilt that had found a home in James’ accent, the swotty (Michelle’s words, not her own) English accent he had arrived in Derry with all those years ago now slowly beginning to fade. It suited him, Erin decided - he was a Derry girl, after all.
“What - what if it’s not as good?” Erin couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes as she looked at Derry, and looked at James again, her heart aching as she tried to even begin to process the monumental changes that they were standing on the precipice of. For years now, Erin had dreamed of university, adulthood, and growing up, and now it was finally all happening, she couldn’t help but wish that she was heading back to Mary Immaculate College and Sister Michael’s wrath in two weeks' time.
James looked thoughtful, for a second. “I don’t think it’ll be comparable,” he said, continuing after a beat. “Nothing is ever going to be comparable to this,” he gestured vaguely, waving toward the rolling expanse of Derry that spread out for miles in front of them. “But that doesn’t mean that what’s coming next is going to be bad. You know? It’s going to be - it’s going to be fun,” he said, determined. “It’ll be different, sure, but it’s going to be fun too.”
Erin wiped roughly at her eyes. “What if I can’t do it alone?”
James gave her a fond smile. “You’ll never be alone, Erin,” he said, and Erin couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t ever been alone, not really, her life always full of joy, and laughter, and friends and family. She, and Clare and Michelle had already gone through the teary goodbyes and promises to stay in touch, and Orla had, in her very Orla-like way, solemnly reassured that she could easily swim the length of the Irish sea between here, and Scotland, if Erin ever needed her.
“I know, I just…” she trailed off, wondering how to voice her fear aloud. “What if I get to Glasgow, and I can’t do it alone?”
“Erin Quinn,” James said, as though he was about to say something obvious, something she should already know. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”
Erin hated the way she blushed, shoving at James’ shoulder as she shook her head. “Shut up,” she rolled her eyes.
“Erin,” the way James said her name, there and then, made Erin’s heart stop, and start all over again in her chest, the same way it had that day in Donegal, when he’d reassured her that he was willing to wait. This, whatever this was between them, bubbled gently under the surface, not quite fully formed yet, but in moments like this, when James looked at her like she was something precious, Erin wondered why on Earth she was willing to leave him behind and start a new life somewhere else. “I’m serious.”
“Are you?” she couldn’t help but question.
James nodded. “One of the first things I learned about you, back when I first got here, was that you can do anything you set your mind to, Erin,” he said. “If you want it - you just go after it. It’s honestly kind of scary.”
“Arsehole,” Erin mumbled.
“I know,” James grinned, that familiar, sweet, lopsided grin that she’d grown so used to over the years. “But I’m being serious, Erin. You’re going to have an incredible time in Glasgow.”
Erin was quiet, for a second. “I love Derry,” she said, and she hoped she didn’t need to elaborate, not to James - he didn’t need her to explain that love was too small a word for the way she felt about her hometown, that she felt this overwhelming sense of belonging and happiness as soon as she stepped outside of the door and breathed in that Derry air. She loved the people, she loved the place - she loved it all.
“I know you do,” James reassured.
“Then why am I so ready to leave it?” Erin finally admitted, tears rolling down her cheeks as she voiced the feeling for the first time. She could never turn around and tell her mammy and daddy how she felt - that her love for this city was built right into her DNA, but even still, she was so ready to get on the plane in the morning and leave it behind? It would break their hearts, and Erin didn’t want to do that anymore than she already had by accepting her place at the University of Glasgow.
James gave her a reassuring smile. “You can love somewhere,” he began, and maybe he meant somewhere and someone, too, but Erin wasn’t ready to have that conversation. “And still need to leave it for a while.”
Erin wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“Derry will always be here,” James reassured, reaching out and giving her knee a gentle squeeze.
If you asked her later, Erin wouldn’t quite remember what made her do it, in the end, but she reached out and grabbed James’ hand in her own before he could pull away, James giving her that endearingly confused and excited look he tended to always give her.
“And you?” she breathed the words. "Will you always be here?"
James’ face softened, and he tugged Erin’s hand toward him, slightly chapped lips brushing against the skin of the back of her hand. “I told you before,” he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I can wait.”
Erin let his words sink in for a minute, the reassurance sounding even more intense than it had done the first time he’d said it, all those months ago now. “I’m going to miss this,” she said quietly, James' hand still gripped tightly in her own. She wasn’t sure if she meant Derry, when she said this, or if she meant their little gang - or if she just meant James, the boy she had never expected to have feelings for.
Maybe it was a little bit of everything.
James squeezed her hand again, bumping his shoulder against her own as they watched nighttime blanket the city. “Me too,” he breathed, and Erin couldn’t help but lean a little more heavily against him, pressing her cheek to the soft material of the flannel shirt he was wearing.
Erin loved Derry -
But she’d always love the people who made Derry, home, even more.
SEPTEMBER 1998
Years living in Derry had prepared James for the madness of Belfast - or so he liked to think. He didn’t feel like as much of an outsider, this time around, at least. When anyone asked where he was from, James confidently answered with ‘Derry’ and happily ignored the strange looks he got in response to his accent, the London lilt still lingering between the Derry twang he’d developed over the years. Derry was home - not London, not England, not Belfast, either, regardless of how much he liked it so far. James was from Derry, and anyone who had anything to say about it - well, they could deal with Michelle, frankly.
He’d never tell anyone - mostly because Michelle would have his head on a platter - but she’d cried, when James had stood on the footpath outside of his university accommodation and waved her, and her parents goodbye, Michelle angrily informing him that he was a dickhead, but he was her dickhead of a cousin, and if anyone so much as looked at him funny, she’d be on the bus from Derry to kick their arses from Belfast to Galway and back.
(He hadn’t even told his mother he’d been accepted to university.)
Tucking the pile of books he’d just withdrawn from the university library under his arm, James unlocked their postbox, rifling through a mess of letters and bills for his flatmates before finally finding something addressed to him.
It was a postcard, and James could tell it was from Erin without even turning it over, the photo on the front of a deranged looking Highland Cow, announcing its greetings from ‘Bonny Scotland.’
James -
It’s not Derry, but it’s not all bad. I found a pretty good cinema near my halls - you should come visit one day.
Erin x
It was simple, her message, but it made James smile, all the same - the fact that Erin had gone out and bought a postcard and written it to him was enough of a gesture to make his heart flutter in his chest as he carefully traced the neatly penned words with his index finger.
“Who’s that from then?” Connor asked, curious as James set the rest of the post down on their kitchen table, keeping the postcard tucked close to his chest.
James smiled, all too aware of the blush that was rising in his cheeks as he answered. “Just a friend from Derry.”
JULY, 1999
“Erin - Erin, love, could you come here for a minute?”
Erin swallowed the urge to scream as her mam called her. Over the last year, she’d gotten too used to the independence that living in Glasgow offered her, and being back home in Derry was making for an adjustment and a half. “Mammy,” she tried to keep the sigh out of her voice. “I’m going to be late to meet the girls!”
“It won’t take a minute Erin.”
Erin tried her best to remember that she was nineteen, now, and probably shouldn’t stomp, and through a tantrum. “Yes, mammy?” she said, sticking her head around the kitchen door.
Her mam gave her an affectionate smile. “I know you’re all grown up now,” she said. “But don’t be coming in at all hours, drunk as a skunk, do you hear me? You’ve to be a bit responsible, Erin.”
“Yes, mammy,” Erin said dutifully, as though Michelle would allow anyone not to get anything other than paralytic drunk on the first night they were all back in Derry at the same time in almost a year. Clare’s mam had gone to London to spend Christmas with her there, the Devlin’s still not quite adjusted to life without Mr. Devlin, and so Christmas had been an incomplete affair. But, they were all home now, and Michelle had demanded they go on a big night out.
Erin couldn‘t argue. She was excited to see everyone - as much fun as Glasgow had been, she’d missed them all terribly, and she was excited for a summer of spending time with her best friends in the entire world.
Mary smiled. “Go on then,” she waved her away. “Have fun, and any hassle, call your dad, please.”
“Call me, more like,” Grandad piped up from the chair in the corner. “Your father couldn’t fight a bad wind.”
“Thanks, grandad,” Erin tried to stifle a laugh at the look of genuine offence on her father’s face. “Bye mammy, bye daddy, bye Aunt Sarah! Love you!”
She didn’t wait for a response, heading for the front door before her mam could think of anything else to say. Summer had well and truly arrived in Derry, a stickiness in the air that made Erin’s hair cling to the back of her neck. Still, she had spent too much time blowdrying it so tie it back out of her way, so she tossed it over her shoulder, started walking, and slammed directly into -
“Hey, stranger,” James laughed, hands reaching out to steady her. In the six months since she’d last seen him, not much had changed - his hair was a little shorter, but still curled at the ends, the t-shirt and jeans combination he was wearing something Erin had seen a thousand times over, but the green material of the t-shirt was definitely pulled a little tighter across his chest. Either he’d started going to the gym regularly, like he’d been claiming he wanted to for years, or he’d shrunk his clothes in the wash.
Erin was inclined to believe it was the second.
“Hey,” Erin breathed, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull away, James’ hands on her shoulders a steadying presence she hadn’t realised she’d missed. “What - what are you doing here?”
James shrugged. “Michelle is working,” he explained. “She’s going to meet us at the pub with Clare and Orla. I just - I guess I just wanted to say hi,” he said, as if walking to Erin’s house instead of right to the pub wasn’t miles out of his way.
“Well,” Erin was doing her best to regain her composure. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Erin laughed, shaking her head. “Hi,” she repeated, and she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around James, giving him a brief - and sweaty - hug. “It’s so good to see you,” she admitted, and James gave her this dazzling, thousand watt smile in response.
“It’s really good to see you too, Erin.”
Erin had honestly meant to listen to her mammy, and not get this rip-roaring drunk - but the sun was out, and Michelle had been ordering vodka sodas by the bucket load, and she finally had all of her friends in the same place again, and Erin was honestly just dead fucking happy, and so she got drunk.
Drunk enough that she stumbled, as they walked down the street, James easily reaching out to grab her, steadying her on the concrete. “If you break your face because you can’t walk straight, don’t come crying to me,” James said, the warning half hearted as he held onto her waist, even as Erin wobbled in her heels.
She kind of regretted wearing them, now.
“I won’t, will I?” Erin grinned at him sweetly, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Because you, James Maguire, will always be there to catch me.”
Something unreadable flashed across James’ face. “Will I now?”
Erin nodded, sure in her assumption. “You will,” she reassured quietly, Michelle, Clare and Orla miles ahead of them now - and she didn’t care, not when James was looking at her like this, like she was the only person in the entire world that mattered to him. “Won’t you?” she felt a little unsure now, like she was putting unnecessary pressure on her friend.
James brushed a stray strand of hair off her forehead, tucking it gently behind her ear. Erin felt acutely aware of how sweaty she was, a combination of the unnatural summer warmth and the alcohol pumping through her veins, but James didn’t seem to care. “Yeah,” he promised, and for a second, despite her alcohol-addled brain, Erin thought she could see the rest of her life. It was awfully overwhelming. “I will.”
Erin hadn’t meant to kiss him - really, she hadn’t - but in that moment, she couldn’t do anything except lean in, the two of them the same height when Erin was wearing heels like this, and press her lips to his. Their mouths slotted together perfectly, the same way they had all those years ago now when James had his near-death experience and decided the most important thing he could do with his life was kiss Erin - and kissing him made butterflies erupt in her stomach the same way they had when she was seventeen and James had swooped in and given her the best first kiss of her life.
“Erin,” James breathed against her mouth. “Erin, we…” he trailed off, sounding as though he didn’t want to say what he was about to say.
“I know,” Erin reassured, a conversation neither of them were ready to have lingering beneath the surface. She brushed a gentle hand against his cheek, indulging herself and kissing him once, twice, three times more, James’ eyes staying closed even as she pulled back. “I just - I missed you.”
James’ expression was soft. “I missed you too,” he admitted. “But you’re happy in Glasgow. Right?” `
Erin thought about Glasgow, the city she’d fallen in love with over the last year, the people she shared her life with there - Rebecca, and Isla, and Freya, the girls she was going to be sharing a flat with next year in Hillhead, the old tenement style building holding such promise for another year of late nights and essays and fun. She was happy in Glasgow - really, she was.
But it wasn’t exactly Derry, either.
“I’m happy in Glasgow,” she reassured. “But I’m happy to be home.”
James nodded, pressing one last kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’m happy you’re home too,” he reassured. “Come on, I’ll give you a piggyback the rest of the way,” he offered, untangling himself from her embrace, stooping down so Erin could get onto his back.
Erin grinned, delighted. “This is why you’re my favourite,” she beamed, feet aching with the relief of not having to stumble the rest of the way to the Mallon household where they were all crashing for the night.
James laughed. “I won’t tell Michelle you said that.”
Erin’s head ached, as she woke, the after effects of one too many vodka sodas never as fun as the way the alcohol made you want to dance. Quietly, carefully, she untangled herself from where Clare was lying half on top of her, snoring like a farm animal. Despite that, Erin couldn’t help but smile - she loved these girls more than she would ever have the words to describe.
Orla and Michelle were asleep on the other side of Michelle’s bed, James passed out on the floor, despite his own bedroom only being a few steps away, and Erin’s smile only got wider. A year ago, she was getting ready to leave Derry, and she was worried that nothing would ever be the same again, but despite the distance and the different paths their lives were taking, they had crashed back together and things had been the same way they had always been.
Carefully, Erin picked her way downstairs, grateful that Michelle’s mam was at work as she poured herself a glass of water.
“God,” a voice joined her in the quiet kitchen. “I feel like death warmed up.”
Erin offered her glass to Michelle, who gratefully took it, downing the water as Erin poured another. “It’s mostly your fault,” she pointed out, and Michelle hummed, not disagreeing. “Have you got something to say, Michelle?” she asked, and she wasn’t picking a fight - she just knew when Michelle was holding something back.
Michelle was quiet for a second. “I saw you and James last night,” she said, and the anger that had been there two years ago wasn’t there this time, replaced by concern - and curiosity, maybe. They’d all done a fair bit of growing up since Donegal. “Erin, don’t mess him around.”
“I’m not,” Erin shook her head, offended at the mere idea of messing James around. She would never.
“Are yous two together, then?” Michelle angled her head slightly, giving Erin a curious look. She wasn’t picking a fight either, but that protective streak was showing its head, Michelle hard-wired to stand up for her family. It was admirable, really.
Erin shook her head. “No,” she replied. “We’re not. But - James and I are on the same page as each other on this.”
Michelle’s reply was simple, but the words carried a weight Erin wasn’t sure she was sober enough to deal with. “Are you?”
“Y-yes,” Erin didn’t exactly feel sure of herself. Were they on the same page? In the two years since James had first kissed her, they had never had a real conversation about this, about their feelings for each other: she’d just sort of assumed an inevitably their relationship, and that James felt the same.
“Look - I’m not going to tell you exactly what he said,” Michelle said. “But if you’re not ready for this, ready to be with him for real, Erin - you’ve got to let him go. Okay? Because he…” she trailed off, clearly not wanting to betray her cousin's confidence. “Don’t keep him hanging on a thread until you’re ready for more. Because you might never be, Erin.”
Erin looked down at her glass, water rolling down the side of the pint glass where she’d overfilled, dripping down onto her head.
“I’m not saying this to start a fight,” Michelle’s hand was gentle, as Erin’s friend reached out and squeezed Erin’s wrist. “I’m saying this because I want the both of you to be happy - and if that’s you two being together, I can deal with it, I promise you, but if you being happy doesn’t involve you riding James,” she grinned as Erin rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to tell him, so he can move on.”
Erin wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I - when did you get so wise, you arsehole?” she joked, hoping Michelle could sense her gratefulness.
“It’s all this studying,” Michelle grinned, because she’d been the wildcard of their year, flicking her thick mop of hair over her shoulder on results day and informing everyone within shouting distance that Michelle Mallon was going to be studying law at Ulster University in September. It made sense, when Erin thought about it - Michelle, who was quietly invested in the future of the place they all called home, studying law so she could become one of the people who upheld the peace that generations had fought to bring about.
Erin set her glass in the sink, reaching out to give Michelle a hug. “It suits you,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”
Michelle nodded, returning the hug. “I know.”
AUGUST 1999
Erin had spent a fair chunk of her summer agonising over what to say to James - James, who she’d spent most of the summer with, in a group, with the girls around, and solo, when Michelle and Orla were working, and Clare was back home in Strabane with her mammy. James, who’d never pushed for more, despite the way Erin had eagerly kissed him that first night they were all home in Derry.
James, who’s heart she was probably about to break.
“I wanted to talk,” Erin explained, the two of them tucked away at a table in a cafe Michelle wouldn’t be caught dead in, one of those hipster coffee places she wrinkled her nose in distaste at.
James’ brow furrowed. “Okay.”
“I think you should date other people,” Erin blurted, wincing as hurt flashed across James’ face. “I - just let me explain. I - I don’t know exactly what I feel for you, James, but there’s always been something there, and I - I can’t ask you to wait, while I figure out what I feel.”
James’ reply was quiet. “You’re not asking,” he said. “I’m offering.”
Erin swallowed thickly. “And I’m telling you not to,” she managed to get the words out. She’d spent days rehearsing them in front of the mirror, trying to find the right way to break James’ heart.
“Erin,” James began, and Erin knew he was about to say something unbearably sweet, and kind, and make her change her mind - but Michelles words from weeks earlier were ringing in her head, and she couldn’t string him along like this, crashing back into James’ life every time she was in Derry, wanting him when it suited her to. No, Erin wasn’t going to do that to him.
“James,” Erin’s eyes were watery as she reached across the table, taking James’ in her own. “It’s not our time. Right? And - I don’t know if, or when it will be, and I can’t ask you to wait around forever for me. You - you’re always going to be one of my best friends, and I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“Are you?” Erin countered, because how could he be happy when Erin was only giving him crumbs?
James' silence said a lot.
Erin squeezed his hands tightly, giving him a reassuring look. “You don’t have to jump into bed with the next girl who looks at you,” she tried to tease, making James roll his eyes. “But I’m saying don’t feel like I’m holding you back from going out with someone.”
“I mightn’t find anyone,” James pointed out, his voice weak.
“You might though,” Erin gave him a soft smile. “And I’ll be happy for you either way. Okay? Just - don’t make it so that I’m the person holding you back.”
James looked as though he wanted to say something, but held back. “Okay,” he finally said, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. And,” he paused, looking like it was paining him to say it. “The same for you. Okay? If some - some massive, ride of a Scottish lad asks you out on a date, you should go on it.”
Erin wasn’t quite sure if she could imagine going on a date with anyone other than James, but she nodded dutifully. “Deal,” she confirmed. “We’re - we’re okay, right?” she asked timidly, worried she’d ruined their friendship in one foul swoop.
James smiled. “You and I are always going to be okay, Erin.”
OCTOBER 2000
“James is seeing someone,” Clare said, her voice muffled over the phone line. The distance between Glasgow, and London wasn’t exactly far, but the crackling phone-line implied otherwise. “He’s being cagey about it.”
Erin tried to hide the way her breathing quickened at the news.
“Erin?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” she breathed into the phone. “James is seeing someone, you said?”
“Yeah,” Clare continued. “Michelle mentioned it when I was on the phone to her the other day. Didn’t he tell you?”
Erin swallowed thickly. No, he hadn’t told her - and it was unfair of her to expect him to ask for her approval to go on a date, wasn’t it? “No,” she confirmed. “I hadn’t heard. It must be new,” she shrugged.
“It must be!” Clare declared cheerfully. “I wonder what she’s like.”
Erin didn't - wonder, that is. “Enough about James’ boring dating life,” she said, hoping the words didn’t sound as strained as they felt. “How is life in the big city then, Clare?”
Clare happily took the opportunity to dive into detail about her course, and life in London, and the new lesbian nightclub that had opened up, and how the LGBT society had organised a night there, and she’d met this gorgeous Spanish girl, and -
Well, Erin had taken the opportunity to figure out how to breathe again.
MARCH, 2001
Glasgow had never felt like it was far from Northern Ireland, but in the last few days, it had felt as though it might as well have been on the other side of the world. Erin felt like she’d cried herself inside out, her eyes raw and her heart aching as she stepped out of the airport, looking for her dad, and finding -
“James,” she breathed, looking at the man in question. He was starting to wear his hair longer again, and it reminded her of fifteen year old James and the mop of curly hair he’d had when he walked into Our Lady Immaculate that first day, looking terrified. She couldn’t help the way that she started to cry again as she saw him, despite the fact she’d been so sure that she didn’t have a single tear left to cry.
“Come here,” James breathed, scooping Erin into the kind of hug she’d been craving for days, ever since she’d first gotten the news. She couldn’t help but cling to him, sobbing into the material of his shirt as James tried his best to soothe her tears. “I’m so sorry - I’m so sorry, Erin.”
Yeah.
Erin was too.
She’d just gotten in from her lectures when the phone in the flat had gone, Erin skipping to answer it, on a high from the debate they’d just had about the value of art, and poetry and music in telling a story about conflict. Her cheer hadn’t lasted, as she’d heard her dad’s voice. Her dad, being the typical Irish da he was, didn’t ring often, usually lingering in the background of her weekly phone call with her mammy instead.
“ I’m sorry love ,” her dad had said. “ It’s your grandad. You need to come home .”
“I thought,” Erin hiccuped, looking at James, bleary-eyed. “I thought daddy was coming to get me.”
“I offered to pick you up,” James shrugged. “It made sense - you were flying into Belfast, and your mam…” he trailed off, chewing on the inside corner of his mouth. “Well, I think she needs your dad. I figured I could - well, help, I suppose, and bring you home. I was going to be coming home for the funeral anyway.”
Erin nodded. “Your girlfriend doesn’t mind?” she hated how snarky she sounded, but - well, Erin was a hypocrite, and she’d been imagining all sorts for months now, neither Michelle, or Clare, or Orla, telling her a tap about this mystery girl James had apparently started dating back in October.
James froze, for a second, and after an agonising few seconds, he finally spoke. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Erin.”
It was as if he could sense her hesitation to speak. “Come on,” he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, reaching for her suitcase. “Let’s get you home.”
Erin felt helpless to do anything except let James take her by the hand, letting her out of the arrivals hall of Belfast International Airport. Selfishly - she sort of needed him around to pick up her pieces, there and then.
Erin hated wakes.
Well - that was a lie. Before, she hadn’t minded them, but it was different when it was her grandad lying in wake in their front room, while her mammy and Aunt Sarah weeped, and while Orla sat, uncharacteristically quiet in the corner, as they tried to figure out how you might say goodbye to a man like Joe McCool. He had been a giant of a man, in every sense of the word, and Erin had never imagined a world where he might not be around. Naively, she’d sort of just thought he might live forever.
She hated the way people had spent the evening coming up to her, reassuring her that Joe had lived a good life - as though that made it any better that he was dead. Erin knew that her grandad had lived a long life, reaching the grand old age of 89 before a massive heart attack - in his sleep, peaceful, at least - had put an end to the adventure that had been his life. Erin knew that her grandad had lived a long life, but selfishly, she wanted more years with him.
“It’s occupied,” Erin called out as someone knocked on the door. Whoever it was ignored her, the door creaking open to reveal James. He was wearing a suit, neatly pressed - thanks to Michelle’s mammy, she assumed - though he’d already abandoned the tie.
James shrugged. “Too bad,” he hummed, closing the door behind him. He eased himself onto the ground next to her, back against the green porcelain of the bath. “How are you feeling?”
“Shit,” Erin sighed. She was out of tears, by now. “I should have called him more, when I moved to Glasgow. What if - what if he thought I didn’t love him anymore, James?”
“He would have never thought that, Erin,” James shook his head. “He was excited for you, to be living your dreams in Glasgow.”
“And you’d know that how?”
James didn’t take offence to her harsh tone. “He cornered me, last summer,” he admitted, sounding thoughtful. “Pulled me aside one day when I called for you, and gave me the shovel talk.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious!” James laughed, putting on his best impression of a Derry accent. “He said - son, I’m no fool, and I know you’re wanting to go out with my granddaughter. Now - I wouldn’t want to see her end up with an English fella, but I can’t stop her anymore than I could stop my own Mary from marrying that Southern prick, so I’ll give you one warning, and one warning only - mess her around, and they’ll never find your body.”
Erin couldn’t help but laugh wetly. “I can hear him saying it, you know.”
James bumped his shoulder against hers. “Because he did say it,” he reminded. “He was a good man, Erin.”
Erin twisted, so she could look at James. He was almost twenty one now, and more grown up than Erin knew what to do with. “So are you,” she breathed, and she knew it wasn’t the right moment, but she was sick of wondering when the right moment would be, and so she leaned in.
And James pulled away. “Not like this, Erin,” he said, his voice gentle. There was something unreadable in his expression. “Okay? Whenever - whenever you want, but not like this.”
Erin couldn’t help the way she burst into tears, sobbing into the shoulder of James’ jacket. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed, James wrapping his strong arms around her shoulders.
“It’s okay, it’s okay - I promise,” James hushed, rocking her gently, as if she was a child. “You’re going to be okay Erin.”
Erin wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but long enough for there to be another knock on the door, Michelle and Clare appearing, Orla in tow. Bleary-eyed, Erin looked up at her friends, Michelle locking the door behind them this time, waving a bottle of vodka at them.
“I figured we should toast,” Michelle said, unusually emotional as she settled herself on the cool tile of the bathroom floor. “To Joe,” she said, raising the bottle. “He was - well, he was some man for one man, girls.”
The rest of them hummed their agreement, watching as Michelle took a swig of the vodka, passing it to Clare.
“Growing up sucks,” Erin huffed, glad of the way James hadn’t pulled away when the rest of the gang had arrived, his arm still a comforting weight around her shoulders. She’d deal with Michelle and Clare’s matching curious looks later.
Clare sighed, taking a second swig of the vodka, pulling a face. “I’ll drink to that, girls.”
APRIL, 2001
Turning twenty-one was a big deal. Whatever protests James might have made, there was no way that Erin wasn’t coming home for his twenty-first - she and Clare had booked their respective flights months previously, and even if they’d all already ascended on Derry a month previously to put Joe to rest, they were all going to come home for James’ birthday.
It was only fair, given the celebration they’d had for Clare months previously, her birthday falling the week after Christmas, the first of their gang to turn twenty-one.
The Mallons had, to their credit, thrown James a party, booking out their local pub and plating up mounds of food, family and friends packing out the venue.
With one noticeable exception.
James’ mother.
Now - Erin tried her best not to hate anyone, but Kathy Maguire made it hard. She was a thundering bitch - Michelle’s words, not her own, but Erin couldn’t help but agree - and by the sounds of it, she hadn’t sent James so much as a birthday card, let alone turned up to his party.
Michelle’s da had given a genuine speech about how James was another son to him, and how proud he was, and Michelle have given James an uncharacteristically weepy hug, and it had all been lovely, really, but Erin had noticed the faraway look in James’ eyes as his third pint turned to his fifth.
“Those will kill you,” Erin pointed out, gesturing at the cigarette in James’ hand. He’d clearly nabbed the packet from Michelle’s purse - she’d kill him, when she found out. Not that Erin minded - it was one less for Michelle to smoke herself.
James shrugged. “It’s only the one.”
Erin hummed, reaching out to steady herself with a hand on James’ shoulder as she hoisted herself onto the picnic table he was sitting on. It was damp, she noted - the April weather in Derry hardly a dream. “I’m sorry she’s not here,” she said, leaning close to James.
“I’m not,” James said furiously, shaking his head.
“It’s okay to be sad that she’s not here, James,” Erin tried again, because it was - really, it was. She might have been a thundering bitch, but she was James’ mam, in the end, and it must not have been easy to go through your birthday without so much as a phone call from her.
“No, I - I’m not sad,” James shook his head, stubbing his cigarette out and turning to face Erin. “She just - well, her not bothering to turn up, it's made me realise something, Erin.”
His cheeks were flushed, and Erin wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol, or the frustration of it all. “What did it make you realise, James?” she asked.
“That I have all the family I need,” James shook his head. “I have the Mallons - and Clare, and her mam got me a card and a present, and I’ve got your family - and I’ve got you, haven’t I?”
Erin smiled at him, the expression soft. “Yeah,” she reassured. “You do, James.”
She’d never been able to admit that out-loud before.
“I have all the family I need, right here - in Derry,” James continued. “I don’t need her, Erin. Her not turning up today, or not calling me - it’s just told me everything I need to know, and it’s that she’s not my mam. She might be the woman who gave birth to me - but she’s not my family,” he jerked his head toward the noise of the pub, the music thumping and the laughter loud. “My family are all in there.”
“And right here,” Erin added, reaching into her handbag for the card she’d stashed there earlier when they’d been running out the door to make James’ party on time. “Happy twenty-first birthday, James,” she said, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, enjoying the way James’ skin flushed bright pink under her lips, warm and familiar.
“Thanks, Erin,” James said, flipping the card over in his hands. “Can I open it now?” he asked, Erin nodding. She’d sort of been hoping James would open it in front of her - Erin wasn’t the best at grand gestures or anything, but she wanted to get James something memorable for his birthday.
She watched as James carefully opened the envelope, as though he wanted to save the blue paper that enclosed the card. Knowing the silly, sentimental bastard that James was, he probably would.
“Erin,” James breathed, the plane ticket falling out of the card as he opened it. “God, Erin - it’s too much.”
Erin shook her head. “I’ve wanted you to come and visit me in Glasgow since first year,” she reminded, the postcard she’d sent to James that first week in Scotland coming back to her in a hazy memory. “Now, you have no excuse not to - it’s in September, before you have loads of essays and exam deadlines.”
“Erin, I - I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, sounding dumbfounded.
“Say you’ll come visit,” Erin encouraged, pressed against James. To anyone looking out from the pub, they probably looked like a couple, a real couple, loved up and basking in each other's presence. The fanciful part of Erin’s brain liked the idea of that, enjoyed the image they might present to the world sitting like this, shoulders and knees pressed together.
If life was different, maybe that would be how things were.
James grinned at her, the plane ticket held tightly in his grip. “I’ll come visit, Erin,” he promised, and well, that was all Erin could ask for, really.
SEPTEMBER, 2001
“Why are you doing this to yourself again?” Michelle asked, watching as James packed his backpack for the weekend. She’d arrived at his flat unannounced - and listen, James cursed whoever let Michelle pass her driving test every single day - and with a bone to pick, having found out that James was going to visit Erin that weekend. Orla, and Michelle and Clare had all been to visit Erin in Glasgow over the years, James the only one who’d never visited. Strangely, it had sort of felt like the line neither of them had been willing to cross: there, abroad and away from their family and friends, something might finally happen.
James didn’t want to hope that it would - but he did hope, if he was being honest. Something had changed in their relationship these last few months, and James had to wonder if Erin was finally ready for this, for them.
“I’m going to see a friend - our friend,” James reminded.
“Yeah, but the difference here is that I don’t want to shag Erin, dickhead,” Michelle rolled her eyes. “You do.”
“Do you have to be so vulgar?”
“Don’t be so precious,” Michelle rolled her eyes again. She was going to permanently damage her eyesight, one of these days. “James, I’m serious - you’re just going to hurt yourself, doing this.”
“Erin and I are on the same page when it comes to our relationship,” James said primly, avoiding eye-contact with his meddling cousin.
Michelle sighed. “You know, Erin said the exact same thing to me years ago,” she said. “And I’m not actually sure the two of you have ever been on the same page when it comes to whatever is happening between ye.”
(James definitely doesn’t spend the entire flight between Belfast and Glasgow thinking about how maybe Michelle was right.)
It was easy to spot James in the crowd of arrivals, his mop of curly hair easily recognisable as Erin rocked on her heels, waiting for the man in question to spot her. “James!” she called, and she couldn’t contain her excitement - not when James was finally here, in Glasgow, in the city where she had built a home for herself these last few years. She was just really, genuinely excited to share it with him.
James’ face split into a bright grin as he spotted her, quickly weaving his way through the crowd, scooping her up in a tight hug.
Erin laughed delightedly, wrapping her arms around James’ shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she murmured, acutely aware that to those gathered in the arrivals hall of the airport, they looked like a couple reuniting after weeks apart.
Erin found that she didn’t mind the idea of that being their assumption.
James pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I’m so glad I’m here too, Erin.”
Listen -
Erin had every intention of giving James the full Glasgow tourist experience. Really, she did. She had it all planned out - she was going to take him to the botanical gardens, and to Kelvingrove, and to the Glasgow Cathedral. She knew that James would bring his camera, and he’d probably have a new roll of film, and he’d want to take artsy pictures of all the most beautiful spots, and Erin wanted to give him every opportunity to do that - but then, they were standing at the front door of her flat, James staring at her with those doe-soft eyes he always stared at her with, and Erin found herself out of reasons to fight what was always going to be inevitable.
“Come on,” Erin tugged him inside of the flat, glad her flatmates were all out at lectures that afternoon, the flat blissfully peaceful. She didn’t give James much of a chance to look around, pulling him by the hand into her bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
“Erin?” James gave her a questioning look, and Erin figured this was one of those situations where actions spoke louder than words, and so she kissed him - she kissed him the way she’d been dying to for years, messy and passionate, James giving as good as he got.
“Wait, one second,” James panted into her mouth, pausing to shrug his backpack off. Whoops - Erin had meant to give him a chance to at least take his jacket off. Still, she was favouring efficiency here, finally understanding Michelle and Clare’s near-constant conversations about how brilliant and overwhelming it was to want someone so badly you couldn’t even think straight.
Erin had never wanted anyone except James.
Pushing gently, Erin guided James to her bed, the boy letting out a surprised noise as his back hit the mound of pillows she had carefully arranged there. “Erin,” James propped himself up on his elbows, giving her a curious look. “Are you sure?”
Erin wasn’t sure of what she was sure of - but right there and then, all she could think about was indulging in what she’d never let herself have, not with James or anyone else, always too focused on university and on making sure she was able to achieve every single one of her dreams. Romance - it had felt like a far off concept for so long, despite the fact that she had a boy waiting for her in Belfast.
No more waiting.
Swallowing her nerves, Erin nodded, careful as she straddled James’ lap, knees either side of his hips. Reaching for the end of her jumper, Erin pulled it over her head, tossing it on to the floor to deal with later. “I’m sure,” she said, as if her actions hadn’t already confirmed as much.
James’ hands were tentative as they came to rest on the bare skin of her waist. Erin would blame the shiver that ran down her spine on how cold James’ hands were, and not on anything else. “You’re beautiful, Erin,” he said, voice soft, as though he was afraid to break the magic of the moment.
Erin had no idea how to be sexy. She would never admit that - but she had no idea. Her whole concept of sex boiled down to stories from Michelle, and Clare, and hearing Isla and her latest boy of the week have outrageously loud sex as she tried to focus on her university coursework. But, looking at James, she didn’t feel the need to be sexy, or perform as someone else - James had wanted her since she was an awkward seventeen year old, not quite grown into her own skin or personality yet. If he wanted her then - he wanted her now. Right?
Brushing James’ hair off of his forehead, Erin couldn’t help but smile. “Am I?” she countered cheekily.
James laughed, pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are,” he murmured, and oh -
Well, Erin wasn’t going to argue against that prospect.
“Was that okay?”
Erin raised an eyebrow. “Are you fishing for compliments?” she asked, James laughing as she spoke. Beautiful - it wasn’t a word that she often used when it came to boys, but James looked beautiful like this, his hair a mess, the corners of his eyes crinkling with joy as he grinned.
He was beautiful, and he was hers, and the prospect of it all terrified her.
“Maybe,” James hummed, leaning in to kiss her again. He didn’t have far to lean, given they were sharing one pillow instead of spreading out across her double bed - a hard fought for double bed, might she add, because those weren’t easy to come by in Glasgow student flats.
Erin was quiet, for a second. “I don’t exactly have much to compare it to.”
James raised an eyebrow. “Are you - do you mean?”
“Yes, James,” Erin rolled her eyes. “Don’t make a big deal of it.”
“I wasn’t going to,” James reassured. “I just - I mean, me too.”
Erin was the one to raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised!”
“I mean - I’m not, I just - Clare said you had a girlfriend, in second year,” Erin said, thinking back to the conversation she and Clare had on the phone, almost a year to the day now, give or take a few weeks. Erin had spent the weeks after catastrophising, dreaming up the kind of picture-perfect girlfriend James might have gotten himself.
“I went on a few dates,” James explained, shuffling closer to Erin. “I told Michelle, who told Clare - who blew it all out of proportion. It was like, three dates, and none of them were you, so - nothing ever happened.”
Erin did her best to swallow how pleased that made her feel. “Okay,” she said, because Clare did have a tendency to blow things out of proportion. She’d always been like that, and even her years in London and the way she’d thrived in the big city hadn’t changed how utterly, gloriously dramatic Clare Devlin tended to be.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” Erin confirmed, poking one of the dimples James had in his cheek. “We should probably leave this bed at some point.”
James grinned. “Maybe,” he conceded, easily flipping Erin underneath him, giving her the kind of kiss she could feel right down to her toes. “But not right now.”
“No,” Erin agreed breathlessly. “Not right now.”
Exploring Glasgow with James was everything Erin had imagined it would be. He was earnest and curious, listening to all the fun facts she’d learned over the years, taking photos at every opportunity - even now, as they were sitting in a beer garden, Erin nursing a gin and tonic and wearing James’ sunglasses, borrowed, because she hadn’t expected the sunshine, James was raising his camera to take a photo.
“Ah James, go away,” Erin weakly protested, trying to wave the camera away from her. Her hair was a mess - Scotland was always windy - and James sunglasses were too big for her, slipping down the bridge of her nose. She probably looked horrendous, and here James was, about to immortalise the fact her hair needed a brush in film forever.
“Just one,” James pleaded, and if Erin was a better woman, she might have been able to argue against it, but James was asking in that gentle, pleading voice she had always found it impossible to say no to, and so she gave the most dramatic sigh she could muster, posing for James’ incessant camera.
“Happy?”
“The happiest,” James beamed, setting the camera down, picking up his own gin and tonic, grimacing as he took a sip. He had never liked gin, but he let Erin order whatever she wanted, handing the barman the money for their two drinks, refusing to hear of Erin paying for her own. “This is the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”
Erin was glad of the sunglasses, because they - mostly - hid the way she started to blush. “It’s just a weekend in Glasgow,” she feebly protested.
“A weekend in Glasgow with you,” James corrected, reaching across the table to take her hand in his, the action so achingly familiar and domestic that she didn’t know what to do except embrace it. “Thank you Erin - seriously. This weekend has been really great.”
It still felt as though they were dangling on the precipice of a conversation that was long overdue, but Erin didn’t want to ruin a sunny day with a serious conversation. “Come on then,” she encouraged, letting James keep holding her hand. “Drink up, we’ve got more sightseeing to do.”
“So,” Isla’s grin was near enough feral, and Erin was regretting agreeing to spend James’ last evening in Glasgow having dinner with her flatmates. “This is the famous James, then. We were wondering if you were ever going to let him out of your room, Erin.”
Erin rolled her eyes, poking at the pasta on her plate. “You’re ridiculous,” she fired back, squirming in her seat. James was - James was something that had always felt so special, and so private. She had never really discussed the depth of her feelings for James with anyone else, not even James himself, and so it felt odd to have their relationship on display, even if it was for two of Erin’s closest friends.
“Nice to meet you,” James returned, sugar-sweet, as always. He was too kind for his own good - that was the sort of thing Michelle would say, softened by all the years James had been a part of her life.
“So,” Rebecca smiled, giving Erin an encouraging look. “You and our Erin, then.”
Our Erin.
It was funny, really, how Rebecca put it - when Erin had been James’ long before she had ever been their friend and flatmate.
“Yeah,” James knocked his knee against Erin’s. “It’s been a long time coming.”
He was so comfortable in this, their newfound relationship, if you could even call it that when they hadn’t had a single conversation about it, or even really confirmed if it was a relationship or not. Erin had to admire the way he said it so easily, when her stomach twisted in knots every time she looked at him.
“Well, I admire it,” Isla said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Long-distance never works - me and my Connor broke up after like, six weeks, and it was an awful mess. We can’t even be in the same room anymore, which makes going home dead awkward,” she trailed off as Rebecca glared at her. “But fair fucks to you both for giving it a go, I suppose.”
“So James,” Rebecca interjected, clearly trying to ease the tension in the room caused by Isla’s admission. “What do you think of Glasgow so far?”
Long-distance never works.
If you get together, you’ll break up.
Long-distance never works.
If you get together, you’ll break up.
Erin couldn’t imagine her life without James, was the thing. All those years ago now, when he was about to leave Derry with his mam, Erin had imagined - just for a minute - how it would feel if James wasn’t in her life anymore, and the idea of it had been horrible. James was - well, he was one of her best friends, and if she didn’t have him to confide in, she wasn’t quite sure what she would do.
“I can hear you thinking,” James mumbled tiredly into the curve of her neck, wrapped around her like an octopus. The previous two nights, it had felt comforting, to have James hold her like this, and now it just felt suffocating.
“Don’t be a dope,” Erin mumbled in reply, willing herself to relax in James’ grip. If she only had this for one more night, then she might as well enjoy it. Right?
If you get together, you’ll break up.
If they broke up, Erin knew - she wouldn’t survive it.
So maybe -
Maybe she needed to put an end to it before it even began.
“James,” Erin tugged on his wrist, stopping them right by the security queue. In a matter of minutes, James would be in that line, on his way back to Northern Ireland, and it would - well, it would be over.
She’d made her decision.
James turned to look at her, with that same doe-eyed expression he’d directed at her for years now, and it almost changed her mind.
“Long distance never works,” Erin blurted out, Isla's words from the night before playing on a loop in her head. “I think - I think we need to be realistic, James.”
James' face fell. “You don’t even want to try, do you?”
What she wanted was very different to what realistically needed to happen, Erin knew. What she wanted was to beg James to stay, so they could talk and figure this, them, out, and be happy together - but Isla was right. How would long-distance even work? They’d what - see each other at Christmas and summer, maybe an extra time in between, and that would have to be enough?
“If we break up, it’s just - it’s going to be a disaster,” Erin tried. “So - maybe it’s better if we just stay friends.”
“Friends,” the word sounded bitter as it left James' mouth. “Right. Friends. That’s what you want, Erin?”
“It’s - it’s what's best.”
“You’re not even going to give me a chance to argue with you on this one, are you?” James looked as though he was trying his best not to cry, the bustle of the airport continuing on around them, even as Erin’s world crumbled to pieces in front of her. This was the right thing to do, this was the right thing to do -
“No,” Erin admitted, wiping roughly at one of the stray tears that escaped her steely expression. “It’s for the best, James.”
And she couldn’t really even blame him for not replying - James turning, and walking away instead, leaving Erin crying in the departures hall of the airport.
This was the right thing to do, this was the right thing to do -
If she said it enough, maybe she could learn to believe it.
DECEMBER, 2001
“James isn’t coming tonight,” Michelle said, expression steely as she stood in the Quinn’s living room, directing her words at Orla, and Clare.
Erin watched from where she was curled up on the couch, hiding under a throw blanket her mammy had crocheted - she’d picked up a few new hobbies, in the years Erin had been gone.
“Oh no,” Clare sighed, oblivious to the reality of the situation. “And poor Erin, you’re sick too - there must be something doing the rounds.”
Michelle glanced in Erin’s direction. “Yeah, there’s something catching alright,” she said. “Come on girls, we’ll be late for the concert at this rate.”
“Are you sure you’re not coming?” Orla asked her one final time, Erin afraid if she looked at her cousin for too long, that she might figure out what was really going on - Orla was too perceptive for her own good.
Erin shook her head. “Go - have fun without me,” she added in a fake cough for good measure. “I’ll only end up having to come home anyway, I’m really not well at all.”
The girls had only been gone a few minutes when Erin found a cup of tea being thrust into her hands, her mother giving her a knowing look. “Erin Quinn,” she said, sitting on the edge of the couch that Erin was determined to make a permanent home in this Christmas holiday. “What is really going on?”
Erin shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Erin,” her mammy admonished. “I know you better than that. What’s after happening?”
Well -
Erin had sat with this one, alone, for months, and she felt like she was at a breaking point. She hadn’t heard a word from James, not a phone call, or a postcard, and it’s not as if she tried to contact him either, trying to convince herself that it was for the best if they didn’t stay in touch - because then maybe time would heal the mess that she had made, except she’d come home to Derry for Christmas and James was apparently refusing to leave his room, struck by a mystery illness.
Heartbreak, Erin could diagnose - because she was the thundering bitch who’d done it.
“Mammy,” she couldn’t help but wail. “I’ve made an awful mess of everything.”
Her mam looked shocked, for a second, before she quickly moved, easing the cup of tea out of her hands and setting it on the floor, gathering Erin into a tight hug. “Whatever it is, love,” she reassured. “It’ll be fine. Everything is fixable.”
“Not this,” Erin blubbered, curled up in her mother’s embrace, as though she was two, and not going on twenty-two. “Oh, mammy, I don’t know what to do.”
“You can start by telling me what’s wrong,” Mary encouraged, running a gentle hand through Erin’s hair, the way she always had when Erin was a child. It was funny, really, how the comfort you needed as an adult didn’t change much from what you needed when you were small.
“James and I,” Erin heaved out the words. “Well, it’s a mess, mammy.”
“Were you two together?” Mary asked, curious. She didn’t seem surprised, and Erin couldn’t really blame her for that - it’s not as if they’d been all that subtle, over the years.
“Not really,” Erin paused, for a second. “But we were getting there - and then I ended things, and he hates me, mammy.”
“I doubt he hates you, love.”
“He does,” Erin was certain of it. “He hates me, and I don’t know how to fix it, and now I’m going to die alone.”
The way her mother pursed her lips together for a second was a sure sign she was doing her best not to laugh, and Erin was too tired to get annoyed about her mother finding it funny that her oldest daughter had ruined her own life.
“You know,” Mary suggested. “Your dad and I broke up for a while, right back when we first started going out.”
Erin raised an eyebrow. “Did you really?”
Mary nodded. “I thought maybe it was too much, too soon,” she admitted. “So I broke things off with him, and sent him away home depressed.”
“How did you fix things?”
“I talked to him,” Mary said, as if that were the obvious solution to everything. It probably was, to be fair but Erin wasn’t in the mood to hear sense. “I told him how I felt - and we took things slower, for a while, so that my brain could catch up to what my heart already knew: that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“How did you know that it was going to work out?” Erin couldn’t help but ask.
Mary gave her a funny smile. “I didn’t,” she admitted. “I just - well, I hoped it would work out.”
“Is that really all I can do? Hope it works out?”
“There are no guarantees in life, my darling,” Mary held her close, rocking her gently in her arms. “But if you work hard, and you’re honest about how you feel, then these things find a way of working themselves out.”
DECEMBER, 2001 (AGAIN)
“Right.”
Erin couldn’t help but jump, as her bedroom door swung open, startled by the sudden noise. Michelle, Clare and Orla were standing in her doorway, dressed to the nines and ready for the New Year’s Eve party, and Michelle had a terrifyingly determined look in her eyes.
“I’m sick of this, you know,” Michelle stomped toward her, arms folded across her chest. “James is - well, he’s sickeningly fucking in love with you, Erin. If he’d been a dickhead and done something wrong, I’d be on your side, but from what I can see, the two of you are just choosing to be miserable for no good reason, and I’m sick of it. We’re sick of it, aren’t we girls?” she added, looking at Clare, and Orla for backup, the other two girls nodding in agreement.
“Michelle, don’t get involved.”
“No, but I am involved, Erin, because my best friend, and my br - cousin, are sitting around, absolutely fucking miserable, when they could be together, being gross and in love, or whatever, and I’m really failing understand why the fuck you’re putting us all through this soap opera style nightmare, Erin.”
Erin pulled her knees close to her chest, hating the way her eyes started to water. “If we get together,” she began. “We’ll just break up.”
Michelle’s face softened. “Erin,” she said, sitting down on the edge of Erin’s bed. “Tell me you’re not after doing this to yourself over something I said when I was a seventeen year old fuckhead.”
“You were right, though,” Erin shook her head. “If we get together, we’ll only break up, and that’ll hurt far more than this does - and so it’s better if we just go through it now, and maybe we can be friends again one day.”
“Erin, what are you so afraid of?” Clare’s voice was gentle, as she crouched next to Erin’s bed. She was a bit hard to take seriously, given the amount of rainbow glitter she’d doused herself in, but she was doing her best.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” Erin blurted. “What if I let myself fall madly in love with him, and he becomes my whole fucking world, like I want him to be, and then it doesn’t work out, and I don’t just lose my boyfriend, I lose one of my best friends - and maybe I even lose the love of my life. What if it doesn’t work out?”
There was a heavy silence in her room.
“What if it does work out?” Orla piped up.
Erin looked at her cousin, wide-eyed. “You what?”
Orla shrugged, as if the answer had been obvious all along. “What if it does work out?” she repeated, and God - the older Orla got, the more like their grandad she was, wise and clever and more perceptive than people gave her credit for.
“Orla’s right, you know,” Clare said, smiling sweetly at Erin. “What if it does work out? What if - well, what if you live happily ever after? What if you and James fall in love, and you stay in love, and you go the whole nine yards - you get married, and you have a bunch of wains, and you get to grow old together? What if it works?”
Erin sort of felt as though she was having a stroke.
“As much as the image of you and James having sex makes me want to boke my actual ring up,” Michelle grinned, reaching for one of Erin’s hands, the memory of her words from five years previously making Erin grin, albeit weakly. “The girls are right, Erin - you’ve been so caught up in what might go wrong, that you forgot to think about what might go right. What if you two get together, and you stay together?”
Erin was definitely crying, now. She could see it so clearly, for the first time - a ring on her finger, and a house in Derry, and a house full of noise, and laughter, children running around, with James’ curly hair and her nose. “Do you think that might happen?” she asked timidly.
“As much as it pains me to admit this,” Michelle said, keeping a tight hold of Erin’s hand. “This thing between the two of ye, it’s always been much bigger than I think any of us gave it credit for, Erin.”
“If anyone can stay together forever,” Clare said, older and wiser and brighter, after her years in London, but still her Clare, soft and dozy and affectionate, always believing in fairy tales and folk stories and the good of the people around her. “It’s you and James Maguire.”
Orla was the last to chime in, her smile genuine as she shrugged. “He’s like if the boys you used to make up in your diary entries came to life. You know?”
Filing away Orla’s admission of having read her diaries - again - away to argue about later, Erin looked around at her friends. “He’s never going to forgive me,” she said, and she didn’t know how much they knew about what had happened in Glasgow - she hadn’t told them anything, but the downside of sharing the same group of best friends, was that there was a fair chance that James might have told them his side of it all anyway.
“You don’t know until you try,” Michelle declared cheerfully. “And he’s been told to be at Jenny Joyce’s fucking New Year’s Eve party under pain of death, so - it’s about time we got you into your costume, Erin Quinn.”
Which was exactly how Erin found herself dressed as like Steve Nicks, because the - fairly ironic, given all that had happened between her and James these last few months - group costume they’d decided on months ago had been Fleetwood Mac, stumbling across Jenny Joyce’s enormous back garden to where James was standing, nursing a beer and looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than at a party.
He’d cut his hair, since Erin had last seen him - it suited him. Everything suited James, if you asked her.
“Hey, stranger,” Erin called, giving him fair warning of her approach - but not too much. She didn’t want to give him the opportunity to run away from her.
James’ expression was unreadable. “Erin,” he greeted, his voice firm, and level, as though he was afraid of giving too much away.
“I - well, I have quite a few things I wanted to say, if you’re willing to listen,” Erin fumbled with her purse, looking at James, wide-eyed. “And it’s okay if you’re not - I wouldn’t blame you, if you hated me forever now, but I -”
“I’m listening,” James interrupted gently, giving her a reassuring look she didn’t deserve.
“I’m sorry,” Erin blurted out, because an apology felt like the right place to start, given the way she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry, for what I said in Glasgow, and for the ways I’ve hurt you over the years, but the truth is, James, you terrify me.”
James’ brow furrowed in confusion. “I - what?”
“You terrify me,” Erin repeated, a little more confident in her words, this time. “The thing is, James, I have been a little bit in love with you since you kissed me for the first time in that house in Donegal, and the way I feel about you - it’s always terrified me, because I have never been able to imagine my life without you. So, every time I would think about you and I going out, I’d start to think about how if we did, we might break up, and how if we broke up, then I’d lose Michelle, and I’d lose you, and then I’d get to thinking about how if I lost you, I don’t think I would ever get over the pain of it, James.”
James looked as though he was about to say something.
“But I never let myself think about what might happen if it - if we - worked out,” Erin barrelled on, emboldened now. She’d started, and she wasn’t about to stop, even if it was all getting a bit word vomit-y. “The girls, they made me start thinking about that today - about how happy we might be, and how life could look - and then I got to thinking about when you visited me in Glasgow, and how much fun we had, and how it felt to go to sleep every night with you holding me, and how - how if I didn’t tell you how I felt, I might never get to have that again.”
James sort of looked as though he might pass out. “How - how do you feel, Erin?”
“I love you,” Erin said, and she couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that rose in her throat as she admitted it out loud for the first time. “James Maguire, I am completely, utterly, madly, disgustingly in love with you, and I want to hold your stupid hand, and kiss youn goodbye, and be with you forever, if you’ll have me.”
Erin wasn’t sure if she’d ever had an adrenaline rush quite like this one, her head spinning as she poured her heart out in Jenny Joyce’s garden, of all places. Her chest heaved, as she looked at James, the boy staring at her, dumbfounded.
“It’d be - well, it’d be nice if you said something,” Erin gestured vaguely, her heart beating in her ears.
“I - well, I love you,” James said, as though it was the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. “I love you, Erin. I - I want all of that too,” he said, and he suddenly looked giddy with excitement. “I want to hold your hand, and I want to kiss you all the time, and I - I want to be with you forever too, Erin.”
“Sap,” Erin said affectionately.
James grinned. “So are you,” he pointed out. “And the long-distance -”
“We’ll figure it out,” Erin interrupted, stepping closer to James. “I don’t care - we’ll figure it out. There’s planes, and ferries, and phone calls and postcards - and email now, too, so we can - we can figure it out, James. I want to figure it out,” she reassured, and that seemed to be all the reassurance James needed, the love of her fucking life - however terrifying it was to say that at twenty-one, going on twenty-two years of age - pulling her in for a kiss she could feel right to her toes.
“I love you,” James breathed into the seam of her mouth. “I love you, Erin - I love you so much I don’t know what to do with it sometimes,” he admitted, kissing her between words, as though he couldn’t get enough after so many months apart. Maybe he couldn’t - Erin definitely couldn’t get enough, raking her hands through James’ hair, not caring what a mess she made of him.
Of her boyfriend.
She’d never said that before.
“I love you,” Erin echoed, smiling into the embrace. “I love, and I’m - well, I’m only sorry I made you wait this long to hear it, James.”
James held tightly to her waist as he replied, looking entirely unconcerned as he replied. “I’d have waited forever,” he admitted, and it still terrified her, to know how true that was - but more than terror, it felt exhilrating, to know James Maguire loved her enough to wait.
“Well,” Erin shook her head, kissing James long, and slow, fireworks erupting around them as 2001 turned to 2002, ringing in a new year, devoid of mistakes, and hurt, and arguments - a new year where James Maguire was her boyfriend. Her real, actual boyfriend. “No more waiting.”
“No more waiting,” James hummed his agreement, his smile bright. “Happy new year, Erin.”
Erin couldn’t help but beam in response. “Happy new year, James.”
JANUARY 2002
It was freezing cold as they walked along the walls, a bitter wind whipping up around them, but Erin couldn’t bring herself to care all that much - not when she was wearing James’ jacket, the man in question hand gripped tightly in her own.
“Derry really is a massive ride, isn’t it?” Michelle commented, coming to pause at one of the highest points of the walls, the city rolling out beneath them. The fireworks had mostly come to a stop, the occasional one erupting into the dark night sky, lighting Derry up in shades of pink and yellow and blue and green.
“She is,” Clare said, a little drunk and fairly definitive in her decision that Derry was a she.
Erin didn’t disagree. Somewhere with as much personality and fight as Derry - well, she could only be a Derry girl.
“Hey,” James nudged, Erin looking up at her boyfriend as he spoke - and God, she was never going to get used to that one, was she? - wondering what he was thinking about. She sort of always wondered what James was thinking about. “I love you,” he said, because they said that now, easily and freely, making up for all the years they hadn’t said it.
Erin grinned, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you,” she returned.
“Sweet suffering fucking Jesus,” Michelle rolled her eyes, the action more affectionate than it was annoyed. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on? You two shoving your tongues down each other’s throats at every opportunity?”
“Yup,” James confirmed, wrapping an arm around Erin, pulling her close. “That’s how it’s going to be, Michelle.”
Michelle shrugged. “I can’t fight the confidence,” she shrugged, leaning against the wall, her back to Derry.
“You know,” Clare commented, leaning against Michelle. “So much has changed these last few years - and it’s going to keep changing. We’re all finished university this year.”
The end of university - the end of another era. The changes just kept coming, and coming, and Erin felt overwhelmed and excited by it all, if she was being honest - more overwhelmed, than excited, but the changes the last three years had brought about had been good ones: she had to assume the next three years would bring good things too.
“We’ve changed too,” James offered, and it was hard to disagree - now, on the verge of being twenty-two, they were all very different people. Good different.
“Derry is different too,” Orla said, and Derry was different - its people still brilliant, and resilient, and the peace process going on four years in, almost, and changing the face of Northern Ireland every single day.
“You know what’s not different?” Erin grinned. “How much I love you all.”
“Well, given how much you want to shag James, the way you love him is a bit different alright, Erin.”
“Shut up, Michelle,” Erin rolled her eyes. “I mean it - you lot, you’re my family. I love you all. I’m always going to love you all. I love you guys, and I really fucking love Derry.”
Michelle grinned, in response. “I love you bunch of dickheads.”
Erin Quinn loved Derry. She loved her mammy, and daddy, and her wee sister. She loved Orla, and her Aunt Sarah, and all the ways they were endearingly strange. She loved Clare, and loved the way her friend had blossomed, in London. She loved Michelle, and how she’d grown up, and still stayed herself, blunt and brash and absolutely wonderful. She loved Glasgow, and all it had given her in the last few years, and all it still had left to teach her.
And she loved James Maguire.
One day, she’d find the words to put all that love into the kind of words that could be enjoyed by the world, and immortalised in a way that all that loved deserved to be - but for now, she was with her boyfriend, and her best friends, and fireworks were erupting in the Derry sky, and life was -
Well, life was fairly perfect, actually.
fin.