Cecelia Ahern - The Time of My Life

‘Steve. Can I see you, please?’

We all looked on in horror as Steve made his way in. There was no more laughter. Watching Steve leave the office afterwards was like watching an ex-boyfriend move out. He packed away his things quietly with tears in his eyes: his photograph of his family, his mini basketball and basketball hoop, his mug that said Steve likes his coffee black with one sugar, and his Tupperware of lasagne that his wife had made him for his lunch. And then after handshakes from Twitch and me, a back pat from Graham, a hug from Mary and a kiss on the cheek from Louise, he was gone. An empty desk just like he had never been there. We worked in silence after that. Edna didn’t open her blinds for the rest of the day and I didn’t take any more cigarette breaks, partly out of respect for Steve but mostly because they were his cigarettes that I used to smoke. Though I wondered how long it would take any of them to think about Steve’s desk and how the lighting was so much better there.

I left them at lunchtime as I always did, this time to bring my car back to the garage for the second week running. Once there I was handed another letter from Life and I returned to the office in an even worse mood.

I cursed to high heaven as I sat down and then sprang back up again.

‘What’s wrong?’ Graham asked, looking amused.

‘Who put this here?’ I lifted the envelope and waved it around the room. ‘Who put this on my desk?’

There was silence. I looked at Louise at reception, she shrugged. ‘We were all in the canteen for lunch, nobody saw, but I got one too. It’s addressed to you.’ She came towards me with the envelope.

‘I got one too,’ Mary said, handing it to Louise to pass to me.

‘There was one on my desk too,’ Twitch said.

‘I was going to give it to you later,’ Graham said suggestively, taking an envelope out of his inside pocket.

‘What do they say?’ Louise asked, collecting the envelopes and bringing them to me.

‘It’s private.’

‘What kind of paper is that? It looks nice.’

‘They’re too expensive for invitations,’ I snapped.

She backed off, uninterested.

Including the letter I’d found in my apartment this morning, and the letter he’d sent to the garage, he had written to me seven times in one day. I waited until the usual busy work hum had started up before I rang the number on the letter. I expected American Pie to answer. She didn’t. Instead it was Him.

He didn’t even wait for me to say hello before saying, ‘Have I finally got your attention?

‘Yes, you have,’ I said, trying to hold my temper.

‘It’s been a week,’ he said. ‘I haven’t heard from you.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘Busy with what?’

‘Just doing things, my God, do I have to explain every little detail?’

He was silent.

‘Fine.’ I planned to kill him with my monotony. ‘On Monday I got up and went to work. I brought my car to the garage. I went for dinner with a friend. I went to bed. On Tuesday I went to work, I collected my car, I went home, and I went to bed. On Wednesday I went to work, I went home, I went to bed. On Thursday I went to work, I went to the supermarket, I went home, I went to a funeral and then I went to bed. On Friday I went to work, then I went to my brother’s house and babysat the kids for the weekend. On Sunday I went home. I watched An American in Paris and wondered for the hundredth time if I’m the only person who wants Milo Roberts and Jerry Mulligan to get together? That little French girl just played him like a fool. This morning I woke up and then I came to work. Happy now?’

‘How very exciting. Do you think that continuing to live like a robot is actually going to make me go away?’

‘I don’t think that I’ve been living like a robot but regardless of what I do, quite obviously you’re not going away. I brought my car to the garage today and Keith the mechanic handed me a letter from you, which he had already opened and in no uncertain terms suggested that sex with him would sort me out. Thank you for that.’

‘At least I’m helping you meet men.’

‘I don’t need help meeting men.’

‘Perhaps in keeping them then.’ That was low and I think even he knew that. ‘So when can we meet again?’

I sighed. ‘Look, I just don’t think this whole thing is going to work out with you and me. It might be good for other people but not for me. I really like my space, I like to do things without someone breathing down my neck all the time so I think the mature adult thing to do here is for you to go your way and I’ll go mine.’ I was impressed by my tone, by my firmness. Hearing my words, I wanted to separate from me, which weird as that is, was essentially what I was trying to do. I was trying to break up with myself.

He was silent again.

‘It’s not as if every moment together is a bag of laughs either. We don’t even enjoy each other’s company. I mean, really, we should just walk away.’

He still didn’t speak.

‘Hello, are you still there?’

‘Just about.’

‘I’m not allowed personal calls while at work so I should go now.’

‘Do you like baseball, Lucy?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I don’t know anything about it.’

‘Have you ever heard of a curveball?’

‘Yeah, it’s what the guys with the ball throw at the guys with the bats.’

‘Succinct as always. More specifically, it’s a type of pitch thrown in a way that imparts forward spin to the ball causing it to dive in a downward path.’

‘Sounds tricky,’ I humoured him.

‘It is. That’s why they do it. It catches the batsman out.’

‘That’s okay, Robin always rescues him. I think they’ve a thing going on.’

‘You don’t take me seriously.’

‘Because you’re talking about an American sport of which I know nothing of and I’m in the middle of my work and I’m seriously concerned about your mental health.’

‘I’m going to throw you one,’ he said simply, his voice playful now.

‘You’re going to …’ I looked around the room. ‘Are you in here? You’re not allowed play with a ball indoors, you should know that.’

Silence.

‘Hello? Hello?’

My life had hung up on me.

Mere moments later Edna’s door opened again. Her eyes were back to normal but she looked tired. ‘Ah Lucy, there you are, could I see you for a moment, please?’

Mouse’s eyes widened even more. Cock gave me a sad look; nobody left for him to pester.

‘Yes, sure.’

I felt all eyes on me as I went into her office.

‘Sit down, there’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Thank you.’ I sat in front of her, perched on the edge of the desk.

‘Before I start, this came for you.’ She handed me another envelope.

I rolled my eyes and took it from her.

‘My sister got one of those before,’ she said, studying me.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. She left her husband, and she’s living in New York now.’ Her face changed as she talked about her family but she still looked like a fish. ‘He was a bastard. She’s really happy.’

‘Good for her. Did she do an interview with a magazine, by any chance?’

Edna frowned. ‘I don’t think so, why?’

‘Never mind.’

‘If there’s anything I can do to make you … happier here, then you’ll let me know, won’t you?’

I frowned. ‘Yes, of course. I’m really fine, Edna, thank you. I think this was just a computer error or something.’

‘Right.’ She changed the subject. ‘Well, the reason I called you in is because Augusto Fernández, head honcho from the German office, is visiting us tomorrow and I was wondering if you would be able to take the lead and introduce him to the gang in here. Maybe we can do our best to make him feel welcome and let him know how hard we’re all working in here.’