Cecelia Ahern - The Year I Met You

‘Have you two met?’ I ask, and they both nod simultaneously, Monday still not looking me in the eye.

Jamie begins. ‘Thank you all for coming here today. Heather has taken the time to contact you all individually, she has put a great deal of planning and thought into this, and you’re all welcome. Over to you, Heather.’

I tuck my legs up on the couch and hug them, protecting my body. I try to tell myself that I’m doing this for Heather, this is an exercise for her, she has organised this and, as patronising as it sounds, it’s true, and it helps me. But as soon as I hear her voice I want to cry, I’m so proud of her.

‘Thank you all for coming. For over fifteen years, my sister Jasmine has been coming to my circle of support and it has helped me so much, now I want to give her the same experience. You are Jasmine’s circle of support, her circle of friends.’ She looks around proudly.

I look at the people who have shown up and I feel pathetic. You wink at me and stuff a biscuit into your mouth and I want to physically harm you. I will physically harm you.

‘We want to show you that we love you and support you and we are here for you,’ Heather says, and starts clapping.

The others join in, some enthusiastically, Caroline gently because the noise is hurting her ears. You wolf-whistle. Dad looks at you like he wants to punch you. It is as if Monday is not here, but I know he is, I feel his energy every time he’s in a room, my eyes are drawn to him each time I’m near him, my body is drawn to him each time, every single part of me wants me to move towards him.

‘My little sister Jasmine was always busy. Busy busy busy. When she’s not busy, she minds me. But now she is not busy and she doesn’t need to mind me any more. She needs to mind herself.’

Tears spring to my eyes. I cover myself with arms, legs, hands, everything twisted and folded and saying ‘Closed’.

They all stare at me. I. Want. To. Die. Right now.

I clear my throat, stop hiding behind my legs and instead place them on the ground. I cross them.

‘Thank you all for coming. I’m sure you all know this is a surprise so I’m not really prepared for this, but thank you, Heather, for organising it. I know you have my best interests in your heart.’ I’m going to keep it basic. Give them something but nothing, not let anybody in, but look like I’m playing along. Take all constructive criticism with a smile. Thank them. Move on. That’s the game plan. ‘Losing my job in November was really tough. I did love that job and it’s been very difficult the past six months, not being able to get up in the morning and feel … useful.’ I clear my throat. ‘But now I’m realising – or have realised – that it isn’t as bad as I thought.’

Would telling them that I’m enjoying aspects of it, in a way I never thought I could, give too much away? I look at your eager face, then at Kevin so engaged, at Monday who instantly averts his pan-faced gaze to the coffee-table leg, and decide they don’t need to know about my gardening therapy. Telling them that it’s helping me would be tantamount to admitting that I needed help, and I don’t want to go there.

‘So. The plan is,’ I direct this at Heather, seeing as it is her concerns which have led to this meeting and therefore her no longer being concerned could quickly draw this meeting to a close. ‘To carry out my gardening leave for the remaining six months and then, get a job, so thank you all for your help in the past and your support now, and for coming here today.’

I end it chirpily and perkily and positively, no cause for consternation or alarm. Jasmine is A-okay.

‘Wow.’ You break the silence. ‘That was moving, Jasmine. That was deep. I really feel like I have a sense of you now,’ you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. You pop a Pringle into your mouth. I can smell the sour cream and onion from here and my stomach churns.

‘Well, what do you plan to do after your gardening leave, Matt? Share with us.’

‘Hey, this isn’t my circle of friends,’ you reply, that smirk on your face.

‘Nor mine, evidently,’ I snap back.

‘Let’s keep this positive,’ Kevin says in his priestly voice, hands raised. He lowers them slowly, as if hypnotising us into calming, or like it’s a dance routine from a nineties boyband.

‘I’m calm,’ you say, picking up another Pringle.

You should have gained weight with all the snacking and picking you’ve been doing since quitting smoking, but you haven’t. You seem trimmer, fitter, fresher than before, which is because of the no alcohol.

‘I think it’s fair to say that, aside from Peter and Heather, I seem to have known Jasmine the longest amount of time.’ Kevin looks at me and smiles. I shudder. ‘So I feel that I understand and know her the best.’

‘Really,’ you say, turning on him. ‘So you can tell us which of the three jobs is best suited to her then.’

You have landed both Kevin and I in the shit. Neither of us have a clue, for different reasons of course.

‘ Three jobs?’ Caroline says, annoyed.

Monday’s head snaps up to look at me with a frown, trying to figure me out, this great big liar who has appeared before him. Discussing the two other jobs with him was pointless as the only one I was considering was the one he was offering. But this point that you have so kindly raised makes me look like a three-timer.

It is ironic that it is you that knows me best out of all these people and that is the most loaded question to ask, because the three people who offered me those jobs are here and for the most part they know nothing about each other. They are all looking at me and waiting for an answer. You miss stirring it up on air and so you’re using my life for your own amusement.

I realise I’m staring at you in loathing in a long silence.

‘What are the three options?’ Kevin asks, looking at me with a gentle, soft, understanding smile as if he’s helping me out. ‘Hmm?’

I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Suddenly I break the tension with, ‘Monday, I don’t know if you’ve met my cousin?’

Monday snaps to attention at his name being called, I can’t imagine how this must feel for everybody who has been called here but I’m awkward so they must feel worse.

‘Have you met my cousin?’

‘Well, we’re not really—’ Kevin interrupts.

‘He’s my cousin ,’ I say. ‘Kevin, this is Monday.’

They shake hands across the coffee table and you smirk, knowing exactly what I’m doing.

Silence.

‘So the reason I mention Monday is because he’s with Diversified Search International and he headhunted me for a job at DavidGordonWhite.’

Dad leans forward and gets a look at Monday as if suddenly he counts now.

‘But that job is gone so, Monday, if you feel like you want to leave here now, nobody will be insulted,’ I say, smiling nervously. I want him to go, I don’t want the man I adore to hear how messed up I am in this circle of terror, and after what he heard Caroline say I can feel him seething. Let him go.

‘Why isn’t the job an option any more?’ Dad asks.

I look at Monday. It’s now his opportunity for retribution but he doesn’t say anything.

‘Um. I didn’t make it to the interview,’ I answer instead.

Dad effs and blinds.

‘Peter,’ Leilah elbows him and Heather’s eyes widen and look at me with surprise.

‘Well, why didn’t you make it to the interview?’ Dad asks, exasperated.

‘She was ill,’ Monday finally says, though I don’t feel like he’s defending me. His voice is still flat and devoid of … Monday. ‘I think we should hear about the other jobs,’ he adds. ‘I wasn’t aware there were other options for you.’