Chapter 12 — Dissolution

There wasn’t a moment Molly could point to where separation stopped. She still felt irritation and attachment and pride and worry because those things did not disappear, but they didn’t fix her in place or decide what everything meant anymore. She started to notice that she could feel a reaction without turning it into a definition of herself.

When she spoke with people, she didn’t feel herself trying to secure ground or avoid friction and when she did speak, it was because something needed saying rather than because silence felt uncomfortable. Other people’s certainty stopped coming off as a challenge and their disagreements stopped meaning that they had to become distant, which also meant that differences could stay. She didn’t need to try find a common agreement or change what she’d said into something acceptable. She noticed this mostly because certain habits dropped away and because the constant checking she used to do while talking and listening and even laughing was no longer running alongside everything else.

She had wanted to be a little more distant from Jess, but she realised just how much that was actually ego-driven. She wasn’t hurt by him. She was bruised. They hadn’t talked since before her weekend away with Sosta and, truth be told, she wasn’t sure he wanted to speak with her.

Molly met Jess after work at the same place they usually went because neither of them suggested changing it and because routine still had a way of deciding things for him. He was already there and looked up when she walked in. He smiled as she sat down opposite him. She took a deep breath and tried her best not to fly into managing how the conversation would start.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said.

“Okay,” Jess said.

“I’m tired,” she said, “but not in the way that gets fixed with a break or a better night’s sleep. I’m tired of acting like everything has to be handled properly all the time and like there’s something wrong with me if I don’t keep up.”

“Is this about last week?”

“It’s about the whole setup,” Molly said, “and how easily it creeps into us and into how we talk to each other. Look at how fast things turn into questions about effort and commitment and whether we’re doing enough for each other.”

He looked down at the table and traced a mark in the wood with his thumb.

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m done playing along with it,” she said, “I’m done pretending that constant pressure is just how life works and that the best you can do is cope better than the next person.”

Jess laughed a little but it hit the table more than it did anyone’s ears.

“I’m not saying everything falls apart if you stop pushing,” Molly said, “I think it’s the opposite. I think we spend so much time holding ourselves together that we don’t notice how much effort it takes. I’m not asking you to change who you are and I’m not asking you to give anything up. I’m just asking whether you want to let go of some of the expectations with me and see what happens if we stop being a part of the circus all the time.”

“And if I don’t know how?” he said.

“That’s fine,” she said. “I don’t either. God, I’ve felt like a nutcase since I got back from Canberra. I don’t even know if half of what I’ve been thinking makes sense, but I do know that this go-go-go all the time way of life bites. I just don’t want to keep pretending I like it.”

“Okay,” Jess said. “Then, we try.”

It was the smallest window, but they found it. It was their opening to say goodbye to the ego-driven mode of modern life and just be with one another.