Read Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married Online
Authors: Marian Keyes
I went to see Dad once a week. Every Sunday--because I always felt suicidal on Sunday anyway, and it seemed a shame to waste it. And, acute and all as my self-loathing was, it was nothing compared to the hatred that Dad had for me. Of course, I warmly welcomed his disgust and venom because I felt that it was all that I deserved.
February edged into March and I was the only living thing still in hiberna- tion. Even though Dad was being well taken care of in a physical sense, I felt filthy with guilt. And Daniel was the only person left that I felt comfort- able whining to. No matter what people say, there is a time limit to the amount of time you're allowed to be in mourning, be it for a father, a boy- friend or a pair of shoes that they didn't have in your size. And Daniel's time limit was a lot longer than everyone else's.
No one at work even listened to me anymore. On Mon
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days when someone asked, "Hi, nice weekend?" and I replied, "Awful, I wish I were dead," no one lifted an eyebrow.
I think I would have gone crazy without Daniel. He was just like a ther- apist, except he didn't charge me forty pounds an hour, or wear beige corduroys or socks with sandals.
It wasn't always doom and gloom when I met him but, when it was, he was great. Time after time he listened to me covering the same ground, going over the same anguish again and again.
I could meet him for a drink after work and flop onto the seat beside him and say, "Don't stop me if you've heard this, but..." and launch into yet another saga of--let's just say--a sleepless night, or a tearful Sunday, or a miserable evening I'd had worrying or feeling guilty or ashamed about Dad. Daniel never once complained about my lack of new material. He never held up his hand like a policeman stopping traffic and said, "No, hold on! Wait a minute, Lucy, I think I know this one!"
And he would have been perfectly entitled to. Because if Daniel had heard my story of woe once, he had heard it a million times. Sometimes the wording was slightly different, but the punch line was always the same. Poor him.
"Sorry, Daniel," I said. "I wish my misery was a bit more varied. It must be very boring for you."
"It's okay, Lucy." He grinned. "I'm like a goldfish, I have a very short memory. Every time I hear it, it's as if it's for the first time."
"Well, if you're sure," I said awkwardly.
"I'm sure," he said cheerfully. "Come on and tell me again about the imaginary bargain that you've made with your father."
I flicked him a quick glance to see if he was making 562 / marian keyes
fun of me, but he wasn't. "Okay," I said awkwardly, trying (once again) to find the right words to say how I felt. "It's like I've made a bargain with Dad."
"What kind of bargain?" Daniel asked, in the same kind of voice that music hall comedians said, "But how does he smell?" Straight man to my funny man. We made a great double act.
"It's all in my head," I said. "But it's like I've said, `It's okay, Dad, I know I abandoned you, but my life isn't worth living because I hate myself so much for saving me instead of you. So, we're equal. Quits.' Am I making any sense, Dan?"
"Absolutely," he agreed, for the umpteenth time.
It surprised me to realize how highly I thought of Daniel. He had been so good to me through the whole Dad crisis.
"You're a good man," I told him, one evening, when I had paused for breath.
"No, I'm not. I wouldn't do it for anyone except you." He smiled.
"But, even so, I mustn't become too dependent on you," I added hur- riedly. I hadn't said it in at least five minutes and his smile had unnerved me. I had to neutralize it. "I'm on the emotional rebound, you know."
"Yes, Lucy."
"I'm getting over the loss of my dad, you know."
"Yes, Lucy."
I wanted that twilight life to continue forever, where I didn't have any real contact with anyone except my therapist--by which I mean Daniel. Until Daniel decided that he'd had enough, which threatened to destroy the nice safe world I'd created.
He gave me no warning.
One evening we met and I said the usual, "Hi Daniel, lucy sullivan is getting married / 563
it's lovely to see you but only because you're filling a gap in my life," he held my hand and very gently said, "Lucy, isn't it about time that this stopped?"
"Wh-what?" I asked, feeling as if the ground had swayed beneath my feet. "What are you talking about?"
"Lucy, the last thing I want to do is upset you, but I've been thinking and I wondered if the time has come for you to try and get over this," he said, in an even more gentle tone. The expression on my face was on the rigor mortis end of the stricken scale.
"Maybe I shouldn't have indulged you so much," he said. He looked sick. "Maybe I've even been bad for you."
"No, no," I hastened to say. "You've been good for me."
"Lucy, I think you should start going out again," he suggested in gentle tones, which did nothing but scare me.
"But I'm out now." I was apprehensive. Not to mention defensive. I sensed that my days in the safe haven were coming to an end.
"I mean, out, out," said Daniel. "When are you going to start living again? Seeing other people? Going to parties?"
"When the guilt about Dad goes away, of course." I looked at him suspi- ciously. "Daniel, you're supposed to understand."
"So you can't have a life because you feel guilty about your dad?"
"Exactly!" I hoped that meant that the subject was closed. But it wasn't.
Daniel said, "Guilt doesn't go away on its own. You've got to make it happen."
Oh no! I didn't want to hear that. 564 / marian keyes
I decided to sway him with my womanly charms so I gave him a coy little glance from under my eyelashes.
"Please don't look at me like that, Lucy," he said. "It won't work."
"Fuck you," I muttered, then I sat in embarrassed, sullen silence.
I tried a nasty glare, but no luck with that either. I could see he meant business.
"Lucy," he said, "I don't want to upset you, so please let me help you." In fairness to him, he did sound as if he was in terrible anguish.
I sighed and gave in. "Okay, you mean bastard, help me then."
"Lucy, your guilt will probably get less, but it won't ever disappear completely. You'll have to learn to live with it."
"But I don't want to."
"I know, but you're going to have to. You can't just opt out of life until some time in the distant future when you don't feel guilty--it might never happen."
I had been quite happy to do just that.
"You're like the Little Mermaid," he said, suddenly changing the subject.
"Am I?" I glowed with pleasure. This conversation was much more to my liking. And my hair did look long and curly and sleek, now that he mentioned it.
"She had to suffer the agony of walking on blades in exchange for being able to live on dry land. You've made the same kind of bargain--you've paid for your freedom with guilt."
"Oh." No mention of my hair.
"You're a good person, Lucy, you haven't done anything wrong and you're allowed to have a nice life," he explained. "Think about it, that's all I ask." lucy sullivan is getting married / 565
So I thought about it. And thought about it. And thought about it. I smoked a cigarette and thought about it. I drank my gin and tonic and thought about it. While Daniel was at the bar buying me another one, I thought about it. I finally spoke.
"I've thought about it. Maybe you're right, maybe it's time to move on."
The whole truth was that perhaps I was finally becoming bored of so much unadulterated misery. Bored with being so self-indulgent. And I could have gone on for a lot longer than I already had--years probably--if Daniel hadn't pulled me up short.
"Great, Lucy." He was delighted. "And while I'm being mean to you, maybe you could give some thought to visiting your mother."
"What are you?" I asked sharply. "My bloody conscience?"
"And seeing as you're already pissed off at me," he grinned, "I think I might as well tell you that it's about time you stopped taking any more abuse from your dad. Stop punishing yourself. You've repaid your debt to society and your sentence is at an end."
"I'll be the judge of that," I said angrily. Stop punishing myself, indeed! It was obvious that he hadn't been brought up as a Catholic. I couldn't even begin to contemplate a life that didn't involve lots of self-flagellation.
Although now that I thought about it, maybe going easy on myself was a good idea, a very pleasant option, in fact. And, as I wavered on the brink, Daniel said something that changed everything for me.
He said, "You know, Lucy, if you feel that guilty, you can always go back to your father. Anytime you like."
The suggestion appalled me. I wouldn't do that. Not ever. And it was only then that I realized what Daniel had 566 / marian keyes
been talking about. I'd chosen freedom because that was what I had wanted. I might as well enjoy it.
I stared at him as realization dawned.
"You're right, you know," I said faintly. "Life is for living."
"God, Lucy." He sounded shocked. "There's no call for clich�s."
"Bastard." I smiled.
"You can't be afraid forever," he said, making the most of my good hu- mor. "You can't hide from your feelings, from other people." He paused for emphasis, "Lucy, you can't hide from men."
Now, that was going too far. He was trying to make me run before I could walk.
"A boyfriend!" I said in alarm. "You want me to get a boyfriend after all the disasters I've been through."
"Christ, Lucy, hold on," said Daniel. He grabbed my arm as if I was just about to run out into the street and proposition the first man I met. "Not immediately. I mean sometime, not now..."
"But Daniel," I wailed. "I'm such a bad judge of men. You, of all people, know how hopeless I am."
"No, Lucy, I only want you to think about it..." he said anxiously.
"I can't believe you think I'm ready for a boyfriend," I said in surprise.
"Lucy, I don't mean...all I'm saying is..."
"But I trust your judgment," I said doubtfully. "If you say it's the right thing for me, then it must be."
"It's only a suggestion, Lucy." Daniel sounded nervous.
But something had tickled the back of my brain, the memory of the fun of being in love. I vaguely remembered how nice it had been. Maybe, along with being bored by lucy sullivan is getting married / 567
my misery, I had also become bored with being without a man.
"No, Daniel," I said thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, maybe it's not such a bad idea."
"Wait, Lucy, I only said...Now that I think about it, it's a bad idea, a very bad idea, I'm sorry I ever mentioned it."
I held my hand up authoritatively.
"Nonsense, Daniel, you were right to say all this to me. Thank you."
"But..."
"No buts, Daniel, you're quite right. The next time there's a party going on, I'll go!" I finished decisively.
After a few triumphant minutes I said in a little voice, "But we'll still see each other, won't we? Not all the time, or anything, but you know...?"
And he replied, "Of course we will, Lucy, of course we will."
It never occurred to me, not even for a moment, that Daniel might have had another reason for wanting to ease me away from him, for setting me free to fly on my own. That his concern for my independence mightn't have been entirely altruistic. That, perhaps he might have had a new girlfriend impatiently fidgeting in the wings. Anxiously waiting for me to take my final bow and exit stage left so that she could take her rightful place in the spotlight. I never doubted that his concern for me was genuine and sincere and selfless. I trusted him utterly. And because of that, I decided to go along with what he suggested.
God, it was exhausting.
And so boring. As far as I could see, what Learning to Live Again really meant was just staying away from Daniel. Or at least cutting down drastically on the amount of time I spent with him. And I missed him ter- ribly. No one was as much fun as he was. But it was for my own good, even I could see that, and rules were rules. Anyway, it wasn't the awful cold turkey that I'd expected because he still called me every day. And I knew that I'd see him the following Sunday because I was taking him out for lunch for his birthday.
This Learning to Live Again business was easier said than done--I'd been out of circulation for too long and I had no one to play with. I gate- crashed a post-work drink with Jed and Meredia and what a mistake that was. They both behaved as if I were invisible.
The following night I went out with Dennis and, even though he had promised me a wild night, that was also a disaster. First of all he refused to go to any pubs except gay ones and I spent the night desperately trying to make eye contact with him as he twitched in his seat, watching young boys in tight white T-shirts over my shoulder. I
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could barely get a word of conversation out of him. And when he did bother to talk to me, all he spoke about was Daniel. Which was very irre- sponsible of him--he was feeding my habit, instead of weaning me off it.
Megan was still laid low with her Seasonal Affective Disorder because, when I suggested going out and getting drunk and picking up men, she just sighed and said she was too tired.
So that left Charlotte and Karen. And with all due respect, roommates were a bit of a last resort. I could have got drunk with them anytime.
"Can't you think of anything better for us to do than go to the Dog's Bollix and have drinks spilled on us by Scottish construction workers?" I complained. "Not that there's anything wrong with Scottish men," I said quickly, as Karen's face darkened.
"Leave it to me." Charlotte mysteriously tapped the side of her nose. And, with the flair of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, she produced a party for us to go to on Saturday night. Her workmate's roommate's boyfriend's brother's colleague's cousin was having a party because he hadn't gotten laid in forever. For this very reason Charlotte, Karen and I were extremely welcome.
On Saturday night the preparations for the party were just like old times. Charlotte and I opened a bottle of wine and got ready together in my bed- room.
"I wonder if there'll be any nice guys there tonight?" asked Charlotte, as she tried to put mascara on her bottom lashes with a slightly drunken hand.
"I wonder if there'll be any guys there at all," I said doubtfully. "Espe- cially if the guy is only having the party so that he can get a girl."
"Don't worry," said Charlotte, her hand wobbling. 570 / marian keyes
"There'll have to be some men, and one or two of them will probably be nice."
"I don't care, as long as they're not like Gus," I said.
Karen marched into the room and opened my wardrobe.
"You mean the days of you bringing home drunk, penniless lunatics, who steal our bottles of tequila, are over?" she demanded as she efficiently flicked through my hangers.
"Yes."
"Oh damn!" exclaimed Charlotte. "Give me a tissue someone, it's gotten all over my face."
"And it's all because of this business with your dad?" asked Karen, ig- noring Charlotte.
"Who knows? Maybe I would have grown out of penniless musicians anyway," I said.
"Hardly," said Charlotte, as she licked a tissue and dabbed it at the mascara streaks on her cheekbones. She was loath to give up on her theory. "Let's face it, Lucy, you weren't getting any younger. Froyd says..."
"Oh shut up, Charlotte," snapped Karen. "Lucy where's your suede jacket, I want to wear it tonight."
I resentfully handed it over.
Eventually we were ready.
"Lucy, you look beautiful," said Charlotte.
"No, I don't."
"You do. Do I look like I'm wearing gray blusher?"
"Not really. Anyway, you're beautiful."
Actually, you could still see faint traces of where she'd rubbed the mascara into her face, but the taxi was on its way and we didn't have time for Charlotte to redo her makeup. I'd send her to the bathroom when we ar- rived at the party.
"Karen, we must watch Lucy in action tonight," said Charlotte. "She'll find the best-looking, richest man in the room and get together with him."
"No, I won't." I didn't want to disappoint Charlotte.