Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married (10 page)

"Hello, Daniel." Charlotte sidled slowly out of her bedroom. She also flirted unashamedly with him, but she played the sweet shy smiles and fleeting eye contact card. All rosy cheeks and delicate blushes and clear- eyed, clear-skinned, milk-drinking wholesomeness.

Daniel stood in our little hall, and smiled and looked very tall.

He resisted Karen's attempts to steer him into the living room. "Thanks, but no," he said. "I've got a taxi waiting outside." 110 / marian keyes

He looked at me rather meaningfully as he said that, and then he looked at his watch.

"You're early," I accused. I rushed up and down the hall trying to find my high heels.

"Actually, I'm exactly on time," he said mildly.

"Well, you should have known better," I called from the bathroom.

"You look nice," he said, grabbing me as I hurried past again and attempt- ing to kiss me. Charlotte looked woebegone.

"Ugh," I said, wiping my face. "Stop it, you'll ruin my makeup."

I found my high heels in the kitchen, in the gap between the fridge and the washing machine. I put them on and stood beside Daniel. He was still far too tall.

"You look beautiful, Lucy," said Charlotte wistfully. "I love that golden dress on you. You look like a princess."

"Yes," agreed Karen, smiling straight into Daniel's eyes and holding his gaze for far longer than was necessary--not that he seemed to mind, the womanizer.

"Don't they make a lovely pair?" asked Charlotte, smiling from me to Daniel and back again.

"No, we don't," I grumbled, shifting from high heel to high heel in em- barrassment. "We're ridiculous. He's far too tall and I'm far too short. People are going to think the circus is in town."

Charlotte made shocked and effusive denial of this, but Karen didn't contradict me.

Karen was very competitive. She couldn't help it. She was one of those people who never put herself down, was never self-deprecating, never made rueful little jokes at her own expense. Whereas I, on the other hand, rarely did anything else. I really think she actually couldn't. lucy sullivan is getting married / 111

She was perfectly nice most of the time but if things went wrong, you crossed her at your peril--especially when she was drunk, when she could be quite terrifying. She had a big thing about respect. In fact, she was nearly obsessed about it if you asked me.

About two months previously her boyfriend Mark had timidly suggested that they might be getting a bit too serious, and she barely let him finish the sentence before she ordered him to get out of the apartment and never to come back. She hardly even gave the poor guy time to dress himself. (In fact, she still had his underpants which she waved in triumph out the window after him as he slunk off home.) Then she bought three bottles of wine and insisted that I stay in with her while she drank her way through it.

It was a terrible night--she sat there, looking like thunder, saying nothing, just occasionally muttering "bastard" while I nervously sipped wine by her side, murmuring what I hoped were comforting platitudes. Then out of the blue, she turned nasty.

She turned to me and grabbed the front of my dress and slurred, "Eff ah doan' respec' mahsell, then who's goan to?"

"Eh?" she asked me again, her Scottish accent pronounced, her eyes half- closed and her face too close to mine. "Ansairr me!"

"Indeed," I agreed nervously. "Who's, er, goan to?"

But she apologized the following day and hadn't behaved the same way since. Apart from being competitive, she was a great roommate. She was good fun, had great clothes that she would loan without too much begging, she could be extremely vulgar and she always paid her rent on time. Of course, I was aware that if our interests ever clashed I should be prepared to either back out grace 112 / marian keyes

fully or start enjoying hospital food. But our interests hadn't ever clashed yet--and they were hardly likely to start clashing over Daniel.

She was making the most of her close proximity to him.

"There's a party tonight," she told him, addressing him and him alone. "Perhaps you'd like to come along afterward."

"That sounds good," he agreed, smiling at her. "I'd better write down the address."

"It's all right," I said, quite touched by the air of romance in the hall. "I have it."

"You're sure?" Karen asked anxiously.

"I'm sure. Now let's go. Let's get this over and done with."

"Please come to the party," called Karen. "Even if Lucy doesn't want to."

Especially if Lucy doesn't want to was what she really meant, I thought with a laugh.

We left, Daniel bestowing his game-show-host smile on Karen and Charlotte, me bestowing an amused look on Daniel.

"What?!" he demanded as we went down the stairs. "What've I done?"

"You're outrageous!" I laughed. "Have you ever met a woman that you didn't flirt with?"

"But I wasn't flirting," he protested. "I was just being normal. I was only being polite."

I gave him a "You don't fool me" look.

"You look beautiful, Lucy," he said.

"You're such a bullshit artist," I replied. "In fact, you should be forced to wear a warning. To protect women from you."

"I don't know what I've done wrong," he complained.

"Do you know what your sign should say?" I ignored him.

"What should it say, Lucy?"

"Beware of the bull."

He opened the front door for me and the cold air, the outside world, hit me like a slap. "Oh God," I thought bleakly. "How am I ever going to get through tonight?"

16 We arrived at the restaurant and the saddest-looking man I have ever seen confirmed our reservation.

"Dmitri will take your cloaks," he said heavily, in a thick Russian accent.

He paused, as if he could barely summon the energy to continue speak- ing. "And then," he sighed, "Dmitri will see you to your table."

He halfheartedly clicked his fingers and about ten minutes later Dmitri arrived, a short, lumpy man in a badly fitting dinner suit. He looked on the verge of tears.

"The Vatson party?" he murmured, like a mourner at a funeral.

"Er, sorry?" said Daniel.

I nudged him. "He means us. You're Mr. Vatson."

"Am I? Oh right, yes."

"This vay please," Dmitri whispered hoarsely.

First he led us to a little counter where we gave our coats to a very beautiful but very bored-looking young woman. She was all angular bone structure and porcelain skin and raven hair and long-suffering ennui. Even Dan 114 / marian keyes

iel's hundred-watt grin didn't get a flicker of response from her.

"Dyke," he muttered.

Then we followed Dmitri through the restaurant, in what he obviously thought was stately fashion, but which was in fact just very, very slowly. I kept bumping into him. Then I stepped on the back of his shoe and he stopped and turned around and gave me a look that was more in sorrow than in anger.

Even though I had made much of not wanting to be there, I had to admit that the place was beautiful. There were glittering chandeliers and lots of red velvet and huge gilt-framed mirrors and big palm plants. The place hummed and clinked and tinkled with the sound of young, good-looking people laughing and drinking flavored vodka and spilling caviar down their fronts and onto their laps. I was very, very grateful that I'd let myself be bullied into wearing the gold dress, I may not have felt like I belonged, but at least I looked like I did.

Daniel put his arm lightly around my waist.

"Stop it," I muttered, squirming away from him. "What do you think you're doing? Stop treating me like I'm one of your women."

"Sorry, sorry," he said earnestly. "Second nature. For a moment I forgot it was you and went straight into restaurant mode."

I gave a little laugh and immediately Dmitri's head whipped around to glare at me.

"Er, sorry..." I muttered, feeling somehow ashamed, as if I had been disrespectful or blasphemed or something.

"Your table," said Dmitri, with a feeble flourish, indicating acres of snow- white, starched linen and hundreds of glinting, winking crystal glasses and several miles of dazzling silverware. We might only be getting raw turnip lucy sullivan is getting married / 115

to eat, but The Kremlin provided very nice surroundings to eat said raw turnip in.

"This is very nice." I smiled at Daniel.

Then Dmitri and I did a little dance where we both tried to pull my chair out and then we both pulled away from it and then we both lunged for it again.

"Er, can we order a drink please?" asked Daniel, when we were both fi- nally installed on opposite sides of the vast round table.

Dmitri sighed, his sigh indicating that he had known that a request such as this was probably going to be made, that the request was entirely unreas- onable, but that he was a good, hardworking man and he would do his best to oblige.

"I'll fetch Gregor, your vine vaiter," he said and plodded away.

"But..." said Daniel to his retreating back.

"Oh god," he said, "I only want to order us some vodka."

Gregor arrived promptly and, smiling sadly, produced a very long list of drinks, which included every flavor of vodka under the sun.

I liked the look of it very much indeed. I nearly felt glad that I had come.

"Mmmm," I said, getting excited, "what about strawberry flavor? Or mango? Or, no, no, wait...what about blackcurrant?"

"Whatever you want," called Daniel from the far side of the table. "You choose for me."

"Well, in that case," I said, "why don't we try the lemon flavor to start with and then maybe try a different one in a while?"

When I had been younger, I had been dazzled by cocktail lists, wanting to try everything, wanting to work my 116 / marian keyes

way through the menu in alphabetical order, never having the same thing twice, but I had been far too frightened of getting drunk to actually do it. And I suppose what I was suggesting with the flavored vodkas was just the grown-up version of that. I was still frightened of getting drunk, but that evening, somehow I felt I could live with it.

"Lemon it is," said Daniel.

As soon as Gregor had left, Daniel hissed across at me, "Come over here. You're too far away."

"No," I said nervously. "Dmitri told me to sit here."

"So what? You're not in school."

"But I don't want to annoy him..."

"Lucy! Don't be such a wimp. Come over here."

"No!"

"Okay, I'll come over to you then."

He stood up and moved his chair several feet around the table, and sat down almost on my lap.

The two glamorous young-professional couples at the next table looked appalled and I threw them a kind of rueful, poor-me, look-at-this-maniac- I'm-with, I'm-very-refined-and-I'd-never-do-that-kind-of-thing-myself look, but Daniel just looked delighted.

"There!" he smiled. "That's much better. Now I can see you." Then he started moving his knives and forks and glasses and napkin over to near mine.

"Daniel, please," I said desperately, "people are looking."

"Where?" he asked, looking around. "Oh yes, I see."

"Now will you behave?" I thundered with righteous indignation. But I had lost him because he'd made eye contact with the better looking of the two women at the next table and was up to his usual tricks. He looked at the woman and she blushed and looked away. Then he looked away and she looked discreetly at him again. Then lucy sullivan is getting married / 117

he looked at her and caught her looking at him and gave her a smile. Then she smiled back at him and I have him a thump on his arm.

"Look, you stupid bastard, I didn't even want to come out with you to- night!"

"Sorry, Lucy, sorry, sorry, sorry."

"Just cut it out, okay? I'm not going to spend my evening with you talking over my shoulder to the woman at the next table."

"Fair enough, sorry."

"You were the one who wanted me to come here with you, so you'd better have the bloody manners to talk to me. If you wanted to flirt with someone then why did you invite me?"

"Sorry, Lucy; you're right, Lucy; forgive me, Lucy."

He sounded humble but he certainly didn't look it.

"And you can knock off that naughty little boy smile," I continued.

"Sorry."

Gregor arrived with two hefty glasses filled with a bright yellow liquid. It looked as if it had come straight from Chernobyl, but I thought it might seem ungracious to say so.

"Christ," said Daniel doubtfully, holding his glass up to the light. "It's rather radioactive looking."

"Shut up," I said. "Happy birthday."

We clinked glasses and threw the vodka back.

I immediately felt a tingling, warm kind of glow start to radiate out from my stomach.

"Oh God." I giggled.

"What?"

"It's definitely radioactive."

"Nice, though."

"Oh very." 118 / marian keyes

"More?"

"Oh, yes, I think so."

"Where's Gregor?"

"Here he is."

Gregor was making his way toward us and Daniel flagged him down.

"We'll have two more of those Gregor, thanks," said Daniel.

Gregor looked pleased. If it was possible for someone to look totally heartbroken and pleased simultaneously. "Pink ones please," I called.

"Strawberry?" said Gregor.

"Is it pink?"

"Yes."

"Strawberry then."

"And I suppose we'd better think about having something to eat."

"Fine," I said, picking up my menu. The strawberry ones came and they were so good that we decided to have two more.

As I said, "They're only small. There can't be much harm in them."

The two new drinks came--blackcurrant this time--and we drank them.

"They don't last long, do they?"

"More?" inquired Daniel.

"More."

"Food?"

"I suppose we'd better. Ah, here's Dmitri now. Anytime you like with the raw turnip, Dmitri," I said jovially. With a shock I realized that I was enjoying myself.

"I've something to tell you, Lucy," said Daniel, suddenly getting all ser- ious on me.

"Well, go on then," I said. "For a moment there I lucy sullivan is getting married / 119

thought I was cheering up but I think it's best if we put a stop to that."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Forget it."

"I can't forget it, you idiot. You'll have to tell me now."

"Oh all right, but you're not going to like it."

"Tell me."

"It's about Ruth."

"Tell me."

"I broke up with her. Not her with me."

Was that it? I thought, slightly dazed. And then I remembered about my mission to keep Daniel in his place.

"You bastard! How could you?"

"But I was bored, Lucy. I was so bloody bored. It was a nightmare."

"But she had big tits."

"So what?"

"You're very callous."

"Oh, Lucy, I'm not. I tried to be nice to her."

"Did you make her cry?"

"No."

"You're still a bastard."

Daniel looked slightly upset, a bit tearful. The vodka was making us both a bit emotional.

"I'm sorry I told you now," he said, sulkily. "I knew you wouldn't like it."

"Maybe not, but I'll have to put up with it."

I gave him a little smile. Suddenly I didn't seem to care that much about Ruth. None of it seemed to really matter somehow.

"That's very philosophical of you, Lucy."

"I know, I feel very philosophical."

"That's funny, so do I."

"What do you think it is? Maybe it's the vodka?" 120 / marian keyes

"It's got to be."

"I feel kind of funny, Daniel, sort of sad like I always do, but happy too. Happy in a sad way."

"I know," he said eagerly. "That's exactly how I feel. Except I think I feel happy like I always do but sad in a happy way."

"This must be how Russians feel all the time." I giggled. I felt very light- headed and knew that I was being silly, but it didn't matter. It didn't sound silly, it seemed very important and true. "Do you think Russians drink so much vodka because they're philosophical and miserable, or are they philosophical and miserable because they drink so much vodka?"

"That's a tough one, Lucy."

"Why don't I ever meet the right woman, Lucy?" asked Daniel, seriously.

"I don't know, Daniel. Why don't I ever meet the right man?"

"I don't know, Lucy. Will I always be lonely?"

"Yes, Daniel. Will I always be lonely?"

"Yes, Lucy."

There was a little pause while we both smiled sadly at each other, united in our bittersweet melancholy. Thoroughly enjoying it, actually. At some stage food arrived. It might have been then.

"But, Dan, you see, it doesn't matter, because at least we're being essen- tially human. We're in touch with the pain of being alive. Will we get an- other drink?"

"What color?"

"Blue."

Daniel leaned back in his chair, trying to grab a waiter. "The lady wants two more of these," he called, waggling a glass around. "Well, she doesn't want two for herself...or maybe she does, actually. Do you, Lucy?" lucy sullivan is getting married / 121

"The same again, sir?" asked Gregor. At least I think it was Gregor. I gave him a melancholy smile and he gave me an identical one back.

"The exact same as this," said Daniel. "Except two of them. No, make it four. And...oh yes," he called after him, "they have to be blue."

"Now, where were we?" said Daniel, smiling sweetly.

I was so glad I had come; I felt so fond of him.

"We were talking about existential pain, weren't we?" said Daniel.

"Yes," I said. "Indeed we were. Would I look good with my hair the way that girl has hers?"

"Where?" he asked, turning around. "Oh yes, you'd look even better than her."

"Good." I giggled.

"What's it all about, Lucy?"

"What's what all about?"

"All of it, you know, any of it? Life, things, death, hair?"

"How do I know, Dan? Why do you think I'm so depressed all the time?"

"It's good, though, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Being miserable."

"Yes." I giggled. Again. I couldn't stop. He was right. We were both miserable, but we were soaring, almost ecstatic, in our misery.

"Tell me about you getting married."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Don't you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"That's what you always say about everything." 122 / marian keyes

"What?"

"That you don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it."

"Did Connie go berserk?"

"Totally. She accused me of being pregnant."

"Poor Connie."

"Poor Connie, my eye!"

"You're very hard on her."

"No, I'm not."

"She's a good woman, you know, who only wants the best for you."

"Ha! That's easy for you to say because she's always nice to you."

"I'm very fond of her."

"I'm not."

"That's a terrible thing to say about your mother."

"I don't care."

"You can be very stubborn, Lucy."

"Oh, Daniel." I laughed. "Stop it, for god's sake. Has my mother paid you to tell me nice things about her?"

"No, I genuinely like her."

"Well, seeing as you like her that much, you can come with me on Thursday to see her."

"Fine."

"What do you mean, `fine'?"