Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married (46 page)

probably won't even notice, men never listen to me, they just have conver- sations with my chest."

She was gloomy for only a moment.

"What are you wearing to the party? It must be so long since you've been out."

"I'm not going to the party."

"What?"

"Not yet. It's too soon."

Charlotte laughed and laughed.

"You silly woman," she roared. "You make it sound as if you're in mourning."

"I am," I replied primly.

77 The anger that I'd felt that night I saw Gus propelled me out of my father's house, with the minimum of anguish and soul-searching. I moved back in with Karen and Charlotte and waited for normal life to resume.

I don't know how I thought I'd get off so lightly.

It took less than a day for the hired gun of Guilt and his henchmen to track me down. They worked me over good and proper and continued to do so every day. I was almost unrecognizable, beaten to a pulp by Grief, Anger and Shame.

I felt as though my father had died. In a way he had--the man that I thought had been my father no longer existed. Had never existed, in fact, except in my head. But I couldn't mourn him because he was still alive. Worse lucy sullivan is getting married / 551

than that, he was alive, and I had chosen to abandon him. I had surrendered my right to grieve.

Daniel was wonderful. He had told me not to worry about a thing, that he would figure something out. But I couldn't let him do it. It was my family, my problem and I had to be the one to fix it. First of all, I yanked Chris's and Pete's heads out from where they were buried in the sand, and in fairness to the pair of lazy bastards, they said that they'd help to look after Dad.

Daniel had suggested contacting social services and there was a time when I would have thought that that was the most shameful thing I could do to Dad. But I was beyond feeling shame, I was all shamed out.

So I called lots of numbers. The first number I called told me to call a second number and when I called the second number they told me it was the people at the first number that should help me. Then when I called the first number again they told me that the rules had been changed and it really was the people at the second number that should be helping me.

I spent about a million hours of my employer's time on the phone and heard the words, "That's not our area" over and over again.

Eventually, because Dad was such a danger to himself and others, they made him a priority case and allocated him a social worker and a home help.

I felt wretched.

"He's okay, Lucy," Daniel promised me. "He's being taken care of."

"But not by me." I was lacerated by a sense of failure.

"It's not your job to take care of him," Daniel gently pointed out.

"I know, but..." I said miserably. 552 / marian keyes

It was January. Everyone was broke and depressed.

No one went out much, but I didn't go out at all. Apart from with Daniel.

I thought about my father constantly, trying to justify leaving him alone.

It had come down to a choice between me and him, I decided. One of us could have had me, but there wasn't enough of me to be shared between two.

I chose me.

Survival was an unpleasant thing to witness. Survival at someone else's expense was an unpleasant choice to make. There had been no room for love or nobility or honor or feeling for my fellow man--in this case, Dad. It was about me and only me.

I had always thought I was a nice person, a kind, generous, selfless per- son. It was a shock to find that when the chips were down, the kindness and generosity were only a veneer. That I was a snarling beast just like everyone else.

I didn't like myself very much--although that was nothing new.

Meredia, Jed, and Megan were intrigued by my state of mind. Or rather, my states of mind. Every day I had a different emotion and they were eager to know all about it and offer advice and opinions.

As I said, it was January and no one got out much.

"What is it today?" they chorused when I walked into the office.

"Anger. Anger at not having had a real father when I was a little girl."

Or...

"Grief. I feel like the man I loved, the man I always thought was my father has died."

Or... lucy sullivan is getting married / 553

"Inadequacy. I should have been able to take care of him."

Or...

"Guilt. I feel so guilty for abandoning him."

Or...

"Jealousy. I'm jealous of people who had a normal childhood."

Or...

"Grief..."

"What, again?" demanded Meredia. "We had grief only a couple of days ago."

"Yes, I know," I said. "But it's a different kind of grief; this time it's grief for me."

We had all kinds of wonderful, metaphysical discussions.

I instigated a lot of conversations about survival in extreme circumstances.

"Remember those boys that were in the plane crash in the Andes?" I asked.

"The ones who ate the other passengers?" asked Meredia.

"And the survivors were shunned by the rest of the town when they got home for eating their neighbors?" asked Jed.

As an office, we had never stinted on reading the tabloids.

"That's right," I said. "So do you think it's better to die with honor or to get your hands good and dirty in the base, ignoble struggle for survival?" We argued it back and forth for hours, and pondered vital moral issues.

"What do you think human flesh tastes like?" asked Jed. "I think I heard someone say it was a bit like chicken."

"Chicken breast or chicken thigh?" asked Meredia 554 / marian keyes

thoughtfully. "Because if it was chicken breast I wouldn't mind, but if it was chicken thigh I don't think I could."

"Me neither," I agreed. "Not unless it was in barbecue sauce."

"Do you think they cooked it or ate it raw?" asked Megan.

"Probably raw," I said.

"Shut up or I might puke," said Megan.

"Really?" We all looked at her in surprise. Megan wasn't the squeamish type.

"But you weren't out drinking last night." I was confused.

She did look pale. But that could have just been because her tan had finally faded.

She placed her hand on her chest and made heaving kind of actions.

"Are you really going to puke?" I asked in alarm. Jed thoughtfully placed a wastepaper basket on her lap.

The three of us stared at her, delighted with the drama, hoping that she might throw up and add some excitement to our day. But she didn't. After a few minutes she flung the basket on the floor and said, "Okay I'm fine. Let's have a show of hands. All those in favor of eating the corpses for survival?"

Three hands shot up.

"Come on, Lucy," said Jed. "Put your hand up."

"I'm not sure..."

"Lucy, who did you allow to survive? You or your father? Eh?"

I shamefacedly put my hand up. Then while Meredia still had her hand up, Jed tickled under her arm. She squealed and giggled and said, "Ooooh, you little..." Oblivious of their audience, they called each other names lucy sullivan is getting married / 555

and pretended to wrestle. I raised my eyebrows meaningfully at Megan, and she raised hers back at me.

Gray January limped along. And my social life remained barren.

I recommenced my close relationship with Adrian in the video shop.

I tried to take out When a Man Loves a Woman and came home instead with Krzysztof Kieslowski's The Double Life of Veronique. I wanted to rent Postcards from the Edge and somehow ended up with Il Postino (the un- dubbed, unsubtitled version). I begged Adrian to give me Leaving Las Vegas but instead he gave me something called Eine Sonderbare Liebe, which I didn't even bother to watch.

I didn't really need to go out because there was a real life soap opera taking place in my office. Meredia and Jed had become very close. Very close indeed. They always left at the same time--although that was no great surprise because every employee in the building bolted from their desks the second it was five o'clock. But, more tellingly, they always arrived at the same time. And their behavior in the office was very loving and couply. Giggly and coy and constantly simpering and blushing--Jed seemed to have fallen hard. And they had a private little game that no one else was allowed to play, where Meredia threw Rolos or grapes in an arc across the office at Jed and he tried to catch them in his mouth, then flapped his arms together and made seal noises.

I envied them their happiness.

I was delighted that they were falling in love before my very eyes. Because I could no longer depend on Megan to provide me with romantic drama. She had changed. She didn't look like Megan anymore, as the sharp fall- off in 556 / marian keyes

the number of young men hanging around the office was testament to--now we could get out the door without having to push and shove grimly and say, "Excuse me, do you mind?" I couldn't figure out what was different about her and then I realized. Of course! The tan--it was no more. Winter had finally run her into the ground and stripped her of her golden, lit-from- within translucence. It had faded her from a magnificent goddess to an ordinary, sturdy girl whose hair sometimes looked greasy.

But I realized that it wasn't just her good looks that had been muted. She wasn't the breezy, happy, energetic person she used to be. She no longer tried to find out Meredia's real name. She was often sullen and snappy, and it worried me.

That was quite an achievement, considering how busy I was feeling sorry for myself, but I cared about her.

I tried to find out what was wrong--and not just out of morbid curiosity either. I drew blanks until the day I tentatively asked her if she missed Australia. She turned to me and yelled, "Okay, Lucy, I'm bloody homesick! Now, stop asking me what's wrong."

I knew how she felt--I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn't know what or where home was.

As soon as I realized that Megan's happiness was solar powered, I was anxious to give her some sun. Although I couldn't buy her a trip to Aus- tralia, I could buy her a gift certificate from the tanning salon near work. But when I gave it to her, she looked appalled. She stared at it like it was a warrant for her death, then finally choked out, "No Lucy, I couldn't."

And then I was really worried about her--it's not that Megan was a stingy woman, but she had a great deal of respect for money and especially for things that were free.

But, no matter how hard I tried, she continued to insist that it was far too decent of me and that she couldn't possibly accept.

So, in the end I went myself and all it did was give me eight million more freckles than I already had.

78 The only person I saw in any kind of a social sense was Daniel. He was always available because he was still without a girlfriend, which must have been the longest gap since the day he was born. I didn't feel guilty about the time he spent with me--I reckoned I was keeping him out of harm's way and saving some poor woman from falling in love with him.

I always felt really glad to see him, but I knew it was just because he filled the fatherless vacuum in my life. And I thought it was very important to tell him that--I didn't want him to get the idea that I might, God forbid, be attracted to him. So every time I met him, the first thing I said was, "I'm very glad to see you, Daniel, but only because you're filling an empty space in my life." And he showed unusual restraint by not making some vulgar comment about which one of my empty spaces he'd like to be filling. Which made me sad for the days when he made suggestive remarks to me all the time.

I said the empty space thing so often, that in the end he used to beat me to it. Whenever I said, "Hi Daniel, it's lovely to see you..." he'd interrupt, "Yes, yes, 558 / marian keyes

Lucy, I know, but it's only because I'm filling the father figure gap in your life."

We went out two or three times a week, and somehow I never got around to telling Karen about it. I meant to, of course, but I was so concerned with trying to ration the number of times I saw Daniel that I didn't have the energy to tackle Karen.

At least that was what I liked to believe. And it was hard work trying to not see Daniel every night.

"Stop asking me out!" I scolded him, one evening while he cooked dinner for me at his apartment.

"Sorry, Lucy," he said humbly, as he chopped carrots.

"I can't let myself become too dependent on you," I complained. "There's a danger it could happen, you know, because without Dad there's a big gap in my life..."

"...And your immediate instinct is to fill it," he finished for me. "You're very vulnerable right now and you can't afford to become too close to anyone."

I looked at him with admiration.

"Very good, Daniel. Now finish the sentence. Especially not who? Who should I especially not become too close to?"

"Especially not a man," he said proudly.

"Correct," I beamed. "Top marks."

I was delighted with him for knowing so much psychobabble. Especially when you considered that he was a good-looking man who enjoyed great success with women and didn't need to read up on pop psychology.

"Oh, while I think of it," I said. "Will you come to the movies with me tomorrow night?"

"Of course I will, Lucy, but didn't you just say you can't get too close to a man..."

"I don't mean you," I said airily. "You don't count as a man."

He threw me a hurt look. lucy sullivan is getting married / 559

"Oh, you know what I mean." I was exasperated. "Of course you're a man for other women, but you're my friend."

"I'm still a man," he muttered. "Even if I'm your friend."

"Daniel, don't sulk. Think about it--isn't it far better for me to be with you than with some other man that I might fall for? Well, isn't it?"

"Yes, but..." he trailed away. He sounded confused.

He wasn't the only one. I didn't know whether it was safe to be with Daniel because it was keeping me out of harm's way or whether I was putting myself in mortal danger of becoming too close to him. On balance I thought I was safer with him than not with him. And I kept the barriers up simply by constantly reminding him that they were there. It was okay to be with him as long as I reminded us both that it wasn't okay. Or some- thing like that. All in all, it was easier not to think about it.

Occasionally I remembered the time he had kissed me, then banished the memory immediately. Because whenever I remembered it--and it really was very rarely--quick as a flash, I immediately remembered the night when he wouldn't kiss me, and the rush of shame that followed put an end to my reminiscences good and fast.

Anyway, Daniel and I were back on our old footing, so relaxed with each other that we could laugh together at our brief romantic-sexual encounter.

Well, almost.

Sometimes when he said to me, "Would you like another drink?" I forced a laugh and lightly replied, "Oh no, I've had enough. After all we don't want a repeat of that night out at Dad's when I tried to seduce you."

I always laughed heartily, hoping to laugh away any residual shame and embarrassment. He never really laughed at all, but then again, he didn't need to.