Cecelia Ahern - The Year I Met You

I trip going down the stairs and catch myself on the banister. My heart is pounding from the shock, but it gives me the wake-up call I need. I pull open the door and two blondes and Monday stare at me, two looking my dishevelled state up and down with distaste, the other with an amused expression. I immediately close the door in their faces and I hear him laugh.

‘Come on, kids, why don’t we give her a second to get ready.’

I open the door a little for him to enter and then run upstairs to take a shower and humanise myself. I come back downstairs feeling refreshed but tender. Everything is achey – my head, my body …

‘Rough night?’ Monday asks, mildly entertained by my state. ‘Or are you still ill?’ The last sentence comes out angry, and it makes me wince.

I can barely look at him, I feel so guilty about not showing up for the interview, but mostly for not having the nerve to inform him I wouldn’t be. He has made coffee, he’s dressed casually, and somehow he seems more vulnerable out of his business suit. This doesn’t feel like a business call, he can’t hide behind the work persona that he usually disappears behind. Suddenly I feel guilty in the pit of my stomach about Laurence, as though I’ve betrayed Monday, even though there was never anything between us. He is a headhunter and I am unemployed and there was never anything more, or even a hint, but the deception I feel tells me that there was something. It was silent and hidden but it was there. And of course it took sleeping with someone else to realise that.

‘Monday,’ I take his hand, which takes him by surprise. ‘I am so sorry about last week. Please don’t think that it was a decision that I took lightly, because it wasn’t. I want to explain everything to you now and I hope you’ll understand.’

‘So you weren’t sick then,’ he says flatly.

‘No.’ I bite my lip.

‘I don’t think we’ll have much time to talk,’ he says, looking at his watch and my heart falls.

‘If you can, please stay, I’ll explain everything—’

‘No, I’m not leaving,’ he says, leaning against the kitchen counter, folding his arms and looking at me.

I’m confused but I can barely hold his look without smiling. He softens me so much, turns me to mush. He finally smiles and shakes his head, as though doing so is against his better judgement.

‘You’re a mess, you know that?’ he says it gently, as though it’s a compliment and I take it as such.

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

He watches my lips and swallows hard and I wonder when on earth it’s going to happen, I mean, I think it’s really going to happen, maybe I should say something, make the first move to kiss him, but the doorbell rings and he jumps, startled, as though we’ve been caught.

I sigh and open the door and in you walk with your blonde children, my dad, Zara, Leilah, who is looking very apologetic, and behind her is Kevin, closely followed by Heather and her assistant Jamie. Heather is looking very proud of herself. You look like you’re finding this hilarious. Monday is suddenly looking at me with concern. He steps away from the counter and drops his folded arms.

‘Are you okay?’

My body has started to tremble from head to toe. I’m not sure if alcohol withdrawal has something to do with it, but the sense of terror that has engulfed me over what is to come is certainly playing a part. The earlier heart-pound of passion is gone, now it is dread, anxiety, nerves. My brain is telling my body to run . Now! Fight or flight, and flight has well and truly kicked in. I know what this is, I know what they’ve done. I can tell from the proud look on Heather’s face that she feels she is doing this for my own benefit, that I will be happy about this.

Kevin gives me a warm hug, which makes me freeze with my hands elevated in the air, away from his body, unable to touch him.

You chuckle, my life your Saturday entertainment on this match-free summer weekend.

Finally Kevin pulls away. ‘Heather asked me to invite Jennifer, but she wasn’t home so I thought I’d come along myself.’

I open my mouth but no words come out.

‘You’re the gardener?’ Kevin says to you, remembering you from the day he called by.

You look at me, amused by the entire situation.

‘Matt is my neighbour. His son was helping me out with some work around the garden a while back.’

Kevin fixes you with a steely stare.

‘Come on, don’t tell me it’s the first time you’ve been cock-blocked,’ you say, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Everybody moves to the living room and sits, some taking the kitchen chairs with them as there isn’t enough seating. You’re looking around with a big smile on your face, all eager beaver. The kids sit together at the kitchen table, with their colouring books and Play-Doh. I pace the kitchen pretending I’m making tea and coffee, but I’m making escape plans, excuses, get-out clauses. Monday has hung back, though I am so much in my head I am not present any more.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks.

I stop pacing. ‘I want to die,’ I say firmly. ‘I want to fucking die now.’

He drops his hand and looks over at the gathering, biting his lip with his front chipped tooth. He looks as though he’s trying to figure out a way to get me out of here. I cling to hope.

Jamie makes her way over to the kitchen. I can hear the soles of her feet sticking and unsticking to her sandals as she walks. I think I prefer it when she wears her sport socks.

‘I brought some biscuits,’ she says putting a packet of Jaffa Cakes on the counter. I hate Jaffa Cakes.

‘Jamie, what the hell is going on? What is this?’

‘Heather wanted to do this for you,’ she says. ‘It’s her circle of support for you.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ I snap, a bit too loudly, and I hear you chuckle in the living room.

‘I’ll have coffee, two sugars, splash of milk, dear,’ you call.

Caroline walks in, wearing black sunglasses large enough to cover half her face. ‘Oh my God, I’m so hungover. These christenings are killing me. Oh my God!’ She slaps me playfully on the arm and hisses, ‘I heard you slept with Laurence last night!’

I cringe. I know Monday is right over my shoulder and he has heard. I feel his eyes searing into my back. I feel sick. I look at him and he looks away, busying himself. He brings a tray of cups into the living room and sits down.

‘Oh,’ she says sensing the atmosphere. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know you two were—’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ I rub my face tiredly. ‘You knew about this meeting though?’

She nods, takes a pack of headache pills from her bag and knocks two back with a bottle of water. ‘Wasn’t allowed to tell you. Heather wanted to surprise you.’

I am panicking inside. I want to run, I really do, but one look at Heather – who is sitting at the head of the circle wearing her best blouse and trousers, looking so proud, beaming, confident and bright-eyed about what she has pulled together – and I know I can’t back out on her now. I must endure.

I sit down in the single armchair that has been left free for me, all eyes on me. Yours are twinkling with merriment, so happy to see me looking uncomfortable and vulnerable, vulture that you are. Monday’s eyes are hard and cold and he stares at the leg of the coffee table, whatever previous concern he had for me now dead and buried. Caroline’s eyes are bloodshot and she refuses the passing plate of Jaffa Cakes as though it’s a ticking bomb.

Kevin is staring at me intently, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, trying to channel his good happy positive pervy thoughts in my direction. This is unsettling. His hairy toes in his flip-flops poking out from beneath his skin-tight brown cords are unsettling. He is unsettling, period. Leilah is afraid to look at me, I know it; she’s chewing on her lip and looking around the room and wondering why she didn’t marry a man with a less complicated family. Dad is on one side of her, texting slowly with big thick fingers. Monday is squeezed on the other side of her.