Cecelia Ahern - The Time of My Life

‘That woman ate and loved and prayed herself through three continents and she got happy,’ I snapped then I sighed, calmed down. ‘I just want you to see what I love about him.’

‘I’ve seen what you love about him, all strapped up in a very tight harness.’

‘Seriously, please, for once.’

‘Seriously? I’ve seen what you love about him and I’m meeting Don for a drink.’

I wanted to try one more time. ‘I just think that there are issues between you and him that I don’t entirely understand. He hurt you, I can see that, he tore you down and now you’re trying to protect yourself but at least give it a chance. If you don’t, you’ll be forever wondering was he the one that was supposed to bring me eternal happiness and in turn, bring you eternal happiness?’

‘I don’t believe in eternal happiness, just occasional spurts.’ But he’d softened.

‘I know you don’t want to let Don down but it’s just a pint. He’s a grown-up, he’ll understand.’ He looked slightly persuaded but just to be sure I added the final nail in the coffin. ‘Plus Sebastian is lying in a ditch and God knows how long it will take to fix him so there’s no other way to get home.’

‘Okay,’ he said, resigned to his fate. ‘I’ll stay. I’ll call Don, but that’ll be it. He knows where I am and he’ll think I’ve chosen Blake over him and he’ll never want to see me again.’

I patted him in sympathy.

He lay there and we both stared out the window in the roof at the passing clouds in the perfectly blue sky. And then the doors burst open and Declan stood at the end of the van and paraded his parts from the lost bet, and they were considerably bald.

The bodhrán is an Irish frame drum with a goatskin head and the other side open so a hand can hold the drum and control the pitch and the timbre while the other hand pounds it with a cipín. The Bodhrán in this instance was a pub five minutes away from the B&B, which even at seven p.m. was heaving, and inside was a live session of traditional Irish music. We had arrived late because Declan had broken out in a rash in his nether regions which was so itchy he insisted on driving twenty minutes out of our way to the nearest pharmacy to buy a lotion and some talcum powder; he tipped the latter into the top of his trousers and then gyrated his hips in all kinds of directions to make sure it hit the right areas.

Harry, winner of the bet, should have been happy with his friend’s new-shorn issues, but was instead annoyed because he was meeting the girl who wanted to have Blake’s babies and he was afraid that someone else would get there first. I laughed at his immature impatience at thinking that being just twenty minutes late would ruin his chances, but then I thought of Jenna and I joined in on bullying Declan to put his foot down and show Wexford what his mum’s camper van was made of. Harry’s irritation had rubbed off on me, which in turn had rubbed off on my life who was none too pleased with having to break his date with Don. His own disgusting rash had returned and he and Declan were taking it in turns passing the powder back and forth while Annie and I were taking turns passing the cider back and forth. Josh was lying down in the back smoking hash and blowing smoke rings. I hadn’t drunk cider since I was their age but it was thrilling spending time with them and it had given me a new lease of life, though it had given Life a rash. I think it was that for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t have to worry about stumbling upon a lie I had told. They didn’t know anything about me, they didn’t care, and I could be myself. I hadn’t been myself for a long time.

When we arrived at the pub, it was still a beautiful summer evening and the wooden tables and benches outside were crowded. I quickly scanned the place for Blake; Harry quickly scanned it for the girl he wanted to have his babies and surmised that they were inside. He took the lead, I followed. He needn’t have worried, because she had kept a free seat beside her; her friend thumped her leg when she saw us and despite the dead leg as a warning, the girl lit up when she saw him. I looked around the packed tables for Blake. The band were singing ‘I’ll Tell My Ma’, and everyone was whooping and cheering and I pushed my way through the moving bodies to find him. I saw Jenna sitting at the table beside Harry and his love and there was an empty seat beside her. My heart pounded, hoping it hadn’t been for him, even though I knew they weren’t together. It was just … habit. My eyes found him at the bar surrounded by a gang of guys, telling a joke, centre of attention as usual. It was word-perfect, he had them all captivated, I watched him, Life watched him, then he got to the punchline and everybody exploded in laughter. I did, Life did too. I felt like pushing my face into his and saying, See?

Blake saw me then and excused himself and rushed towards me. Jenna watched us.

‘Hey, you came,’ he said, wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head again.

‘Of course I did,’ I beamed, not wanting to look at Jenna but hoping she’d seen it all. ‘You remember my life,’ I said, moving aside so they could be face to face.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Blake said.

‘Hey,’ Life said casually. ‘I realise this must be very weird for you,’ he said, surprising me with his maturity, ‘so let me buy you a drink.’

Blake looked at him warily, then at me, then back at Life.

‘To break the ice,’ Life added.

Blake took his time deciding, which really annoyed me. I couldn’t understand what his issue was. Don had had breakfast in bed butt naked with me and my life; Life had even found his underwear for him, which Mr Pan had somehow managed to line his basket with, he’d even eaten breakfast with Life – cooked him breakfast – while I showered. I wasn’t comparing Don to Blake – I wasn’t – it was simply their reactions I was contrasting. In Blake’s defence, because I had to try to justify his behaviour, there was a history between him and my life, more emotions, more complexity than the simplicity of a one-night stand, we’d had a five-year love affair, of course he was going to be uncomfortable. Or. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?

‘Yeah, okay’ Blake finally caved in to whatever battle he’d having. ‘Let’s have it over here.’ He guided Life and me away from the rest of the gang to a quieter part of the bar behind a stained-glass divider.

‘Well, this is nice,’ I said nervously, looking at Life who was clearly insulted and beginning to prickle again. ‘At least we can talk in private here.’

‘So what are you having?’ Life asked Blake.

‘Guinness.’

No please. I looked from one man to the other; there was something I was clearly missing.

‘Blake, you know he’s my life, don’t you?’ I asked quietly once Life was distracted at the bar.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Blake said defensively.

‘He’s not a boyfriend, or an ex-boyfriend, or anybody to feel threatened by.’

‘Threatened? I don’t feel threatened.’

‘Good, because you’re acting oddly.’ I sighed. ‘What’s going on?’

‘How do people usually react to this?’

‘With interest,’ I said immediately. ‘Usually the people that love me are interested in my life. They are happy, excited to meet him. They usually ignore me so that they can talk to him. You know? At least, apart from my father, that is.’

He lit up. ‘Hey, how is your father?’

Another inappropriate key change but I’d go with it. ‘Father and I don’t speak.’

‘Why not? What happened? You were so close.’

So much had changed. ‘We were never close but what happened is that I changed, he didn’t like it. He didn’t change, I don’t like it.’