Cecelia Ahern - The Time of My Life

Life raised his eyebrows at me. I wanted my life to go away, and as sweet and wonderful as he was, I wanted Don to go too. I had to go see a man about our love.

‘You look really rough right now,’ Life said to me, munching on some toast. He looked at Don understandingly. ‘You must be thinking shit right now, are you? It’s okay if you are, we both understand. She’s just not a morning person. She’s a little dodgy after one p.m. too.’

Don laughed. ‘I think she’s beautiful.’ He handed me more toast.

I was embarrassed. Life didn’t offer a comeback; instead he studied me.

‘Thanks,’ I said quietly, taking the toast, but my appetite was gone. He was all the right things at exactly the wrong time. The nicer he was, the more uncomfortable I felt.

‘So does this mean our little trip is cancelled?’ Life asked, picking up on my mood and putting me on the spot.

‘No,’ I replied awkwardly, angry he’d mentioned it in Don’s presence. ‘Can you please leave us alone now?’ I asked.

‘No,’ he said defiantly.

‘If you don’t leave us alone now, you’ll regret it.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘Yes.’

He took another bite of his toast, didn’t budge from the bed.

‘Fine,’ I said. I threw off the covers and walked butt naked to the bathroom leaving Life choking on his toast and Don whooping like a college boy.

I showered in the new light of my bathroom, feeling uncomfortable about my life and my one-night stand sitting outside together. I didn’t want the water to ever stop falling. My fingers were close to shrivelling and the bathroom was so full of steam I could barely see the door, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t face Don. I wanted the water to wash away the guilt, the confusion over my feelings for Blake, which – whatever they were – were making whatever feelings I’d had for Don the night before suddenly insignificant. As I was shampooing for the third time, I had a thought: what was making me so sure that Don wanted more from me? He might have been perfectly content with a one-night stand, so feeling hopeful, I perked up and turned off the water. They were quiet outside. I climbed out of the bath. The voices started again, low murmurs in which I couldn’t make out their words. I wiped the condensation from the mirror and stared at a red blotchy heat-rashed face.

I sighed.

‘Come on, Lucy,’ I whispered. ‘Just get this over with so you can get to Blake.’

But even at that idea I felt a slight dread. Again, I didn’t like what I had but I didn’t know what I wanted, so I was once again aimless. When I stepped out into the kitchen – fully dressed – they went quiet. They were sitting beside each other at the counter, drinking coffee and eating omelettes. They looked at me. Don’s eyes fluttered over me with a softness; Life gave me the once-over but didn’t seem overly impressed. Mr Pan looked up from the bed of shoes at the window and monitored me just as I would him if he’d pissed on the mail – as though he knew the bad thing that I had done.

‘Well, it was obvious you were talking about me,’ I said, making my way to the kettle.

‘I’m your life and he just slept with you, what else were we going to talk about? He gave you four out of ten, by the way.’

‘Don’t listen to him.’

‘I never do.’

‘There’s coffee in the pot,’ Life said.

‘You leave me some coffee but you don’t make me breakfast?’ I said to Life.

‘I didn’t make breakfast.’

‘Oh.’ I looked at Don.

‘It’s in the oven,’ he said. ‘Warming.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’ Very unusual behaviour for a man who never wanted to see me again, but still, I had hope. Rather self-consciously I opened the oven door.

‘Be careful, the plate’s hot,’ Don warned but my brain took a while to compute the meaning of his words and it was too late. My hand was stuck to the plate. I screeched. Don jumped off the stool and grabbed my hand.

‘Let me see,’ he said, his voice and face all concerned. Even through my excruciating pain I took a moment to take in his face, all dark and concerned and beautiful. But the pain, the pain overtook all cuteness. Don held my hand in his and guided me around the kitchen like he was Ratatouille. I ended up with my hand underneath the cold tap and Don wouldn’t let go of me, even when the water became too cold and I wanted to take it away. ‘You have to leave it there for at least five minutes, Lucy,’ he said sternly.

I opened my mouth but I decided not to object.

‘How did you do that?’ Life asked, impressed.

‘What?’

‘Make her not answer back.’

Don smiled briefly, then concentrated on my hand with that concerned look.

‘I think you’ll have to amputate,’ Life said, still sitting down and shovelling another forkful of egg into his mouth.

‘Thanks for your concern. This,’ I nodded at Don, ‘this is proper concern.’

‘He just slept with you, he has to pretend to respect you.’

He joked but I knew that my life was impressed and I could tell that he was happy. He was wearing a new suit, navy blue, which brought out the colour of his eyes, which had once been nondescript and were now strikingly blue. His cold had cleared up, leaving his nose less large looking, his teeth had been brushed, his breath was better and he looked good. He sounded happy; he teased me but with love. It should have made me happy too, but it concerned me. I was unsure. Something was wrong.

‘Why are you so dressed up?’ I asked him.

‘Because I’m meeting your parents this evening,’ he said.

Don looked at me, with sympathy I think, which I appreciated.

‘Actually, not just me. We are meeting your parents. I called your house yesterday and spoke to a lovely woman named Edith. She was very sweet and very excited that we were both coming to visit, she said she’d inform your parents immediately and prepare a special dinner.’

I think I had a mini panic attack. ‘Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?’

‘Yes. I returned your many calls from your mother for you, which you need to thank me for. Your mother needs you and you haven’t been there. She also needs you.’ He looked at Don. ‘There’s coffee on the carpet on the Persian rug in the drawing room.’ Life made a mock shock-horror face. ‘So I gave her your number.’

I was more angry over him giving my mum Don’s number than arranging a dinner. There I was trying to find ways to get rid of Don and already he was going to infiltrate my parents’ home. He would be the only man in the world apart from my life to be in both my home and theirs.

‘You don’t understand how unnecessary this is. You have no idea how much she doesn’t need me. She is perfectly capable of organising her own funeral without any help from anyone. As for my dad … Jesus, what have you done? He’s going to meet you? He will have nothing to say to you, absolutely nothing.’ I put my head in my only free hand and then realised Don was listening to everything so I removed my hand and acted as if I hadn’t said any of those things. ‘It looks nice out today, doesn’t it?’

Life shook his head at Don. Don, who was still holding my hand under the freezing cold water, did something with his entire being, without moving an inch or saying a word, but which let me know that he was there for me.

We stepped out into the chilly morning, colder because we stood in the shadow cast by my apartment building. Across the road in the park we could see sunlight, but no sun could reach where we were standing and my wrap-around dress whipped up around my thighs as the wind blew. My hands tried desperately to keep it down and though it was nothing he hadn’t seen before, it was different now.