Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married (39 page)

way to the hospital because he was missing, presumed drunk; how he stood at the back of the church at Peter's Confirmation and sang Irish drinking songs...

I didn't even listen. I decided that it was time for me to go back to work.

When I stood up to leave, I said, "Not that you're worried about it, but I'll take care of him, and I'll probably do a far better job than you ever did."

"Is that right, Lucy?" She sounded unimpressed.

"Yes."

"Good luck," she said. "You'll need it."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you any good at washing sheets?" she asked cryptically.

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll see," she said wearily. "You'll see."

63 I went back to work in a state of shock.

The first thing I did was call Dad to make sure he was okay, but he sounded incoherent and dazed, which worried me sick.

"I'll be out to you right after work this evening," I promised. "Everything will be all right, please don't worry."

"Who will take care of me, Lucy?" he asked, sounding very, very old. I could have killed my mother. lucy sullivan is getting married / 471

"I will," I promised fervently. "I'll always take care of you, don't worry."

"You won't leave me?" he asked pathetically.

"Never," I said, meaning it as I'd never meant anything before in my life.

"You'll stay the night?" he asked.

"Of course I will, I'll stay with you always."

Then I rang Peter. He wasn't at work, so I presumed that Mum had already broken the news to him and, Oedipal idiot that he was, he had gone home to lie down in a darkened room, waiting to die of a broken heart. Sure enough, when I rang him at home, he answered the phone in a hoarse, grief-sodden voice. He, too, said that he hated our mother. But I knew it was for an entirely different reason and that he and I didn't share any common cause. Peter was devastated, not because my mother had left Dad, but that she hadn't left Dad for him.

Then I called Chris and discovered that Mum had informed him of her news that morning. I was annoyed with Chris because he hadn't called and tipped me off. So we had a brief argument, which was nice because it took my mind off Dad for a while. Chris was wildly relieved when I said that I was spending the evening with Dad. ("Jesus, thanks, Lucy, I owe you one.") Chris and Responsibility weren't on the best of terms, they had never really seen eye to eye.

Then I called Daniel and told him what had happened. He was a good person to tell because he was so sympathetic. And besides, he'd always been fond of my mother. I was glad to give him an opportunity to see what a bitch she really was.

He didn't comment on my runaway mother. He suggested that he'd drive me out to Dad.

"No," I said. 472 / marian keyes

"Yes," he said.

"No way," I said. "I'm very upset, I'm no company, it's a long, boring drive and, when we get there, I just want to be with my dad."

"Fine," he said. "But I'd still like to be with you."

"Daniel." I sighed. "It's obvious that you need to seek psychiatric help, but I really don't have the time at the moment to deal with your mental problems."

"Lucy, be sensible," he said firmly.

We both had a little laugh at that.

"Daniel, you're asking the impossible," I said. "Stop building failure into your expectations of me."

"Now listen," he shouted. "I have a car, you have a long way to go, you'll have to stop at your apartment to get clothes and things. I'm not doing anything else this evening, I will drive you to Uxbridge and I want to hear no more about it!"

"Woooh!" I said, amused and slightly impressed, despite the awful cir- cumstances. "It's my hero! Check your thighs, I bet they've gotten all muscular."

He didn't really know what I was talking about.

It was odd, I'd never thought about Daniel's thighs before. I had a vague suspicion that they were already muscular. I felt a bit funny, sort of nervous, so I stopped.

"Thank you, Daniel." I gave in. "If you really don't mind, then it would be a help if you could take me."

The awfulness of Mum leaving Dad hadn't overridden my fear of Karen, and what she would do to me if she found out that Daniel was escorting me to Uxbridge. But luckily she hadn't come home from work by the time Daniel and I left my apartment.

We stopped at a supermarket on the way to buy supplies for Dad. I spent a fortune, buying everything I could possibly lucy sullivan is getting married / 473

think of that he had ever liked--hobnobs, tarts, alphabetti-spaghetti, mini- trifles, sugar puffs, colored polo mints and a bottle of whiskey. I didn't give a damn about what my mother had said about him being an alcoholic. I didn't believe it. And even if I did, I didn't care. I would have given him anything, to help him feel better, to feel that someone still loved him.

I would create a loving home for him, I thought with missionary zeal. I was looking forward to it. I'd show my mother how it should be done.

When Daniel and I arrived, we found Dad slumped in his armchair, drunk and crying. I was shaken to see how upset he was because, in a way, I'd thought he would be pleased that Mum had gone and left him in peace. I had almost expected him to be relieved that it was just me and him.

"Poor, poor Dad." I dumped the bags on the table and rushed to his side.

"Oh Lucy," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Oh Lucy, what will become of me?"

"I'll take care of you. Now, have a drink, Dad," I urged, gesturing at Daniel to bring the bottle of whiskey.

"I might as well, Lucy," agreed Dad, sadly. "I might as well."

"Are you sure, Lucy?" asked Daniel quietly.

"Don't you start," I hissed quietly. "His wife has just left him, let him have a bloody drink."

"Calm down, Lucy," he said, picking up an empty bottle of Jameson from the floor beside Dad's chair and thrusting it at me. "I just don't want you to kill the man."

"One more can't hurt him," I said stiffly.

Suddenly I felt very sorry for myself and Dad. Before I knew what was happening I was in the midst of throwing a mini-tantrum. "Oh for God's sake, Daniel," I screeched. 474 / marian keyes

Then I marched out of the kitchen and slammed the door behind me.

I shoved open the door of the "good" front room and flung myself in a tantrumy rage on the "good" metal and brown corduroy couch. The room had always been kept for visitors. But as we had never had many visitors, it was in pristine, 1973 condition. It was like being in a time warp.

I sat and cried, at the same time feeling daring for sitting on the good furniture that only priests and visitors from Ireland were permitted to sit on. And, in a few moments Daniel came in as I had known he would.

"Did you give him a drink?" I asked accusingly.

"Yes," he said, and skirted the smoked glass coffee table. He sat beside me on the fossilized couch. He put his arm around me as I had known he would. Daniel was good at that kind of thing, Daniel was nice and predict- able, I could always rely on Daniel to do the right thing.

Then he pulled me onto his lap, one hand around my shoulders, the other under my knees. I hadn't been expecting that, but I was quite happy to go along with it. Lots of affection was just what I needed.

I indulged myself and snuggled up to him and cried a little more. Daniel was a great person to cry on, there was something very reassuring and protective about him. I really got into it and snuffled around with my face on the shoulder of his suit, while he put a hand up and gently stroked my hair and said comforting things like, "Shush, Lucy, don't cry." It was very nice.

He smelled lovely--my nose was stuck in his neck, his scent was over- whelming. Manly and sweet. Quite sexy, actually, I thought in surprise--at least it would have been sexy if it wasn't Daniel's.

Idly, I wondered what he tasted like. Lovely, probably. lucy sullivan is getting married / 475

In fact, I was so close to him that all I had to do was stick out my tongue and touch the smooth skin of his neck with it.

Quickly I stopped myself. I couldn't just go around licking men, not even if they were Daniel.

He continued caressing my hair with one hand and slipped the other under the hair at the nape of my neck, where he did some kind of funny manipulation with his thumb and index finger. I sighed and relaxed closer to him. It felt really soothing.

Mmmmm, I thought, soothing in a shivery kind of way. Soothing and sort of...

Suddenly I became aware that I was no longer crying. I panicked, realiz- ing I had to extricate myself from Daniel's arms immediately. I was only allowed to cuddle up to men if we were romantically involved, or if one of us was comforting the other. As neither was the case with Daniel, I was in his arms under false pretenses, my tenancy had run out with my tears.

Hoping that he didn't think I was ungrateful, I tried to jerk away from him.

He smiled at me, his face close to mine, as if he knew something that I didn't. Or perhaps something that I should know. Sometimes his clich�d good looks really get on my nerves, I thought, annoyed. And surely his teeth looked whiter than usual, he must have just been to the dentist. That annoyed me too. I felt hot and uncomfortable. I wasn't sure why.

It must have been because we had reached the awkward stage of an emotional outburst. The flash flood of happiness or misery had passed, and the hand-holding or hugging or tear shedding or whatever suddenly became excruciatingly embarrassing. That was probably why I felt as if I had to escape from him, I thought, scrambling 476 / marian keyes

around for a reason. I wasn't at my most comfortable with displays of af- fection.

At least not sober ones. But Daniel didn't seem to realize I wanted to break up our clinch. I tried to push myself out of the circle of his arms but nothing happened. Another wave of panicky fear swept over me.

"Thanks," I sniffed up at him, hoping that I sounded normal. As, once again, I made another attempt to wrench myself free from him. "Sorry about that."

I had to get away from him, I thought, frantically. I felt embarrassed and awkward in his arms, but it wasn't the usual sort of embarrassed and awkward.

He was disturbing me. I was aware of all sorts of things about him that I hadn't noticed when I'd been busy crying. Like, he was so big--I was used to small men. It felt funny to be held by someone as big as Daniel.

The scary kind of funny.

"Don't be sorry," he said.

I waited, expecting him to flash me his usual slightly mocking smile, but he didn't. He stared down at me, his eyes dark and serious, and didn't move. I stared back at him. A stillness settled on us. A waiting. Moments before, I had felt safe, now I felt anything but. And I couldn't seem to catch my breath, it wouldn't go the whole way down.

Daniel moved slightly, and I jumped. But he was only stroking my hair back off my forehead. The touch of his hand sent a little thrill through me.

"But I have to be sorry," I managed to blabber nervously, unable to look him in the eye. "You know me--I love to feel guilty."

He didn't laugh.

A bad sign.

And he didn't let me go either. lucy sullivan is getting married / 477

A worse sign.

To my horror, I felt a powerful rush of sexual attraction for him which nearly knocked me off his lap. I made another attempt to scramble away from him. I suppose it wasn't a very diligent effort.

"Lucy," he said, putting his hand on my chin, and gently moving my face, so that I had to look at him. "I'm not going to let you go, so stop try- ing."

Oh God, I thought. The gloves were off. I didn't like his tone. Well, actu- ally I liked it very much. If I hadn't been so scared of what it meant, I would have loved it. Something very weird was going on--why was Sexual At- traction calling to see if Daniel and I were coming out to play? Why now?

"Why won't you let me go?" I stammered up at him, trying to buy time. I was vaguely distracted by his eyelashes--they were so long and thick it was indecent. And had his mouth always been that sexy? He was such a lovely color, slightly tanned against the whiteness of his shirt.

"Because," he said, staring down at me, "I want you."

Fuck it! My insides lurched with a scary thrill. We were approaching a border, about to cross into unknown territory. If I had any sense, I would stop us. But I didn't have any sense. I couldn't stop myself. And, even if I had wanted to, I certainly couldn't stop him.

For a long time before it happened, I knew he was going to kiss me. We hovered in space, our mouths almost touching, moving infinitesimally closer.

For years his face had been so familiar to me, but now he looked like a stranger, a very attractive one.

It was horrifying.

In a very nice way.

Finally, when my nerves were stretched to the scream 478 / marian keyes

ing point and I was sure that I couldn't wait another second, he bent his head and put his lips to mine and kissed me. His kiss flooded through me like a sparkling drink.

I kissed him back. Because--shameful admission--I wanted to kiss him back.

I hated it because it was perfect.

It was the nicest kiss I'd ever had in my entire life and it was from Daniel. How awful--if he ever found out, his ego would go into orbit. I had to make sure that he never knew, I thought urgently.

I noticed all kinds of things that I'd never noticed before. How big and hard his back felt as I ran my hands along the grown-up-person's fabric of his suit.

No wonder he's such a good kisser, I thought, trying to make myself disgusted, he's had so much practice.

But then he kissed me again and I thought, well, the damage is done, might as well have another one.

He was delicious. He had such a perfect mouth and the smoothest skin. He tasted musky and sexy.

He was a man, a real man.

Oh Christ, I thought, I'll never, ever live this one down. He'll never let me forget this. The shame! After all the abuse I've hurled at him and his philandering ways. If I hadn't been so turned on, I might almost have laughed at myself.