Cecelia Ahern - The Time of My Life

‘Really?’

‘My friends can’t believe the change in me. They keep thinking we’re going to get married even though I’m always telling them that’s not how it works.’ He laughed, then there was an enormous awkward moment as I felt, oddly I’ll admit, like I’d just been dumped.

I looked away, not wanting him to pick up on my confused feelings, but just ended up feeling dizzy as my life literally flashed before my eyes. ‘Lucy and Samuel 1986–1996’. That was a fairly thin file. My father and I had had a relatively normal relationship then, if you considered it normal seeing him once a month for Sunday lunch when I came home from boarding school. The following years’ files grew thicker for a bit – when I was fifteen years old with a head as stubborn as his we’d begun to lock horns – and then somewhere in my early twenties they got thinner again – I was away for long periods of time, studying in university, which pleased him. The file for the last three years was thicker than any other. There was a file for the relationship I had with each member of my family. I wasn’t even the slightest bit intrigued to see what was inside them. I had lived it, I knew what had happened, I’d rather remember them with the certain bias and misinterpretation that time, age and hindsight had brought me. Life continued speaking as normal, still excited and proud of his accomplishment and not at all realising my discomfort.

‘I’m still going to keep all of these papers though, even when I’ve inputted them into the computer. I’m kind of sentimental about them. So, what do you think?’ He beamed again at his office, delighted with his achievement.

‘I’m so happy for you,’ I smiled, feeling sadness. ‘I’m so happy that everything is working out for you.’

His smile lessened then as he sensed my mood but I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want to selfishly turn this special moment for him into being about me.

‘Ah, Lucy.’

‘No, don’t. It’s okay. I’m fine.’ I brightened up, plastered a fake smile on my face. I knew it looked fake and I knew I sounded fake but it was better than the truth. ‘I’m really happy for you, you’ve come a long way, but if you don’t mind, I have to go now. I have … em … an appointment with this girl I met at the gym who …’ I sighed, I couldn’t lie, not any more. ‘Actually, no, I don’t have an appointment, but I have to go. I just have to go.’

He nodded, the wind taken out of his sails. ‘I understand.’

It suddenly felt awkward.

‘Maybe you can meet with Don or something, tonight?’ I asked, more hopeful than I realised, but then Life’s face fell.

‘No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

‘Why not?’

‘Not after last night.’

‘You just missed a pint, it’s hardly a big deal.’

‘It was to him,’ he said, serious then. ‘You chose Blake, Lucy. He knows that. It wasn’t just a pint. It was a decision you had to make. You know that.’

I swallowed. ‘I didn’t really see it that way.’

Life shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. He does.’

‘But it doesn’t mean you and he still can’t be friends.’

‘Doesn’t it? Why on earth would he want to spend time with me when it’s you that he wants? Blake was the opposite, he wanted you, not your life. And Don, Don can only have your life but not you. Ironic, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah.’ I smiled weakly. ‘Well, I’d better go. Congratulations, really, I’m so glad for you.’ I couldn’t hide the sadness and the words sounded so hollow. So I left.

I bought a tin of cat food and a microwave cottage pie in the corner shop near my block. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator on my floor I froze and then wanted to get back in. My mum was standing outside my door, her back to me as she leaned against the door, and looking as though she had been there for a very long time. My first instinct as I said was to get back into the elevator but immediately after that I thought that something was terribly wrong. I rushed towards her.

‘Mum.’ She looked up and as soon as I saw her face I felt sick. ‘Mum, what’s happened?’

Her face crumpled then and she reached out to me. I held her in my arms and comforted her, thinking that’s all she needed but then I heard a sniffle, then another, then a squeak and a whimper and I realised she was crying.

‘It’s Father, isn’t it?’

She wailed even more.

‘He’s dead, is he dead?’ I panicked.

‘Dead?’ She stopped crying then and looked at me in alarm. ‘What have you heard?’

‘Heard? Nothing. I’m just guessing. You’re crying and you never cry.’

‘Oh, he’s not dead.’ She rooted in her sleeve and pulled out a snotty tissue. ‘But it’s off. The whole thing is off.’ She started crying again.

In shock I put one arm around her shoulders and scrambled in my bag with the other for my keys. I ushered her into the apartment. It smelled clean from the carpets and I was so thankful I’d got the job done and changed the light bulb. Mr Pan, who’d already heard our voices at the door, was waiting there eagerly; he rushed in and out of my legs with excitement, unable to contain himself.

‘He’s absolutely unbearable,’ Mum cried. She entered the flat and it was only then that I realised she had quite a sizeable bag in her hand. She barely looked around, just sat up at the breakfast counter on a high stool and put her hands to her head. Mr Pan jumped up on the couch, then to the counter and slowly crept towards her. She reached out and started rubbing him without thinking.

‘So the marriage is over?’ I asked her, trying to take in this alien who had invaded my mother’s body.

‘No, no,’ Mum said dismissively. ‘The wedding is off.’

‘But the marriage is on?’

‘Of course,’ she said, wide-eyed, surprised I’d even mention such a thing.

‘Okay let me get this straight.’ I sat down beside her. ‘He is so unbearable you will not renew your vows but you’ll stay married to him?’

‘I could marry that man once, but I could never marry him twice!’ she declared confidently, then she groaned, and collapsed on the counter. Suddenly she popped her head up again. ‘Lucy, you have a cat.’

‘Yes. This is Mr Pan.’

‘Mr Pan,’ she smiled. ‘Hello, beautiful.’ He was in heaven under her touch. ‘How long have you had him?’

‘Two years.’

‘ Two years ? Why on earth wouldn’t you tell us that?’

I shrugged, rubbed my eyes and mumbled. ‘It made sense at the time.’

‘Oh, dear, let me make you some tea,’ she said, sensing a problem.

‘No, you sit down. I’ll do it. Go make yourself comfortable on the couch.’

She looked at it, a large brown suede L-shaped couch that took over the entire room.

‘I remember this,’ she said, then she looked around and took in the rest of the room as if suddenly realising she was inside for the first time. I braced myself but she turned to me with a smile. ‘How cosy. You’re absolutely right. Your father and I are rattling around that big house like marbles.’

‘Thanks.’ I filled the kettle. Her phone started ringing; she clamped her handbag shut tighter to quiet it.

‘That’s him. He’s relentless.’

‘Does he know where you are?’ I tried to hide my amusement.

‘No, he does not, and don’t you think of telling him.’

She walked to the window trying to figure out how to get around to the couch but on seeing it was shoved up against the windowsill she went back the other direction searching for a way in.

‘Mum, what on earth happened?’

Once at the other end of the couch she found it was lodged against the kitchen counter. So she did what any normal person apart from my mother would do and she lifted her leg and climbed over the back of the couch.