Cecelia Ahern - The Gift & Thanks for the Memories

‘I’ll do it,’ Lou said, and they all looked at him in shock.

‘I’ll do it,’ he repeated with a smile.

‘Maybe you could call Stephen first, love,’ Alexandra said gently.

‘Yes,’ Quentin responded, turning back to his phone. ‘Good idea. I’ll just go somewhere quiet.’ He brushed by Lou and left the room.

Lou felt the sting as the family turned away from him again and talked about places he’d never been, about people he’d never met. He stood by idly while they laughed at jokes he didn’t understand, inside jokes that tickled all but him. It was as though they were speaking a secret language, one that Lou was entirely unable to comprehend. Eventually he stopped bothering to ask the questions that were never answered, and eventually he stopped listening, realising nobody cared about that either. He was too detached from the family to start trying in one evening to check himself into a place where there was currently no vacancy.

24. The Soul Catches Up

Lou’s father was beside him, looking around the room like a lost child, no doubt feeling nervous and embarrassed that everyone had come for him and secretly hoping that somebody else would announce it was their birthday too so the attention would be taken from him and shared with someone else.

‘Where’s Ruth?’ his father asked.

‘Em,’ Lou looked around for the hundredth time, unable to find her, ‘she’s just chatting to guests.’

‘Right. Nice view from up here.’ He nodded out the window. ‘City’s come a long way in my time.’

‘Yeah, I thought you’d like it,’ Lou said, glad he’d got one thing right.

‘So which one is your office?’ He looked across the river Liffey at the office buildings, which remained lit up at this hour.

‘That one there, directly opposite.’ Lou pointed. ‘Thirteen floors up, on the fourteenth floor.’

Lou’s father glanced at him, obviously thinking it peculiar, and for the first time Lou felt it too, could see how it could be perceived odd and confusing. This rattled him. He had always been so sure.

‘It’s the one with all the lights are on,’ Lou explained more simply. ‘Office party.’

‘Ah, so that’s where it is.’ His father nodded. ‘That’s where it all happens.’

‘Yes,’ Lou said proudly. ‘I just got a promotion tonight, Dad.’ He smiled. ‘I haven’t told anybody yet, it’s your night, of course,’ he backtracked.

‘A promotion?’ His father’s bushy eyebrows rose.

‘Yes.’

‘More work?’

‘Bigger office, better light,’ he joked. When his dad didn’t laugh he became serious. ‘Yes, more work. More hours.’

‘I see.’ His father was silent.

Anger rose within Lou. Congratulations wouldn’t have gone astray.

‘You’re happy there?’ his father asked casually, still looking out the glass, the party behind them visible in the reflection. ‘No point in working hard on something if you’re not, because at the end of the day that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?’

Lou pondered that, both disappointed by the lack of praise and intrigued by his father’s thinking at the same time.

‘But you always told me to work hard,’ he said suddenly, feeling an anger he had never known was there. ‘You always taught us not to rest on our laurels for a second, if I recall the phrase exactly.’ He smiled, but it was tight and he felt tense.

‘I didn’t want you all to be lazy, by any means,’ his dad responded, and turned to look Lou in the eye suddenly. ‘In any aspect of your life, not just in your work. Any tightrope walker can walk in a straight line and hold a cane at the same time. It’s the balancing on the rope at those dizzying heights that they have to practise,’ he said simply.

A staff member, carrying a chair in her hand, broke the quiet tension. ‘Excuse me, who is this for?’ She looked around at the family. ‘My boss told me that someone in this party asked for a chair.’

‘Em, yes, I did,’ Lou laughed, angrily. ‘But I asked for chairs . Plural. For all the guests.’

‘Oh, well, we don’t have that amount of chairs on the premises,’ she apologised. ‘So who would like this chair?’

‘Your mother,’ Lou’s father said quickly, not wanting any fuss. ‘Let your mother sit down.’

‘No, I’m fine, Fred,’ Lou’s mother objected. ‘It’s your birthday, you have the chair.’

Lou closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He had paid twelve thousand euro for his family to fight over the use of a chair.

‘Also, the DJ said that the only traditional music he has is the Irish National Anthem. Would you like him to play it?’

‘What?’ Lou snapped.

‘It’s what he plays at the end of the night, but he has no other Irish songs with him,’ she apologised. ‘Shall I tell him to play it for you all now?’

‘No!’ Lou snapped. ‘That’s ludicrous. Tell him no.’

‘Can you please give him this?’ Marcia said politely, reaching into a cardboard box she had underneath the table. From it, party hats, streamers and banners overflowed. He even caught sight of a cake. She handed the waiter a collection of CDs. Their father’s favourite songs. She looked up at Lou briefly while handing them over. ‘In case you fucked up,’ she said, then looked away.

It was a short comment, small and delivered quietly, but it hit him harder than anything she’d said to him that evening. He’d thought he was the organised one, the one who knew how to throw a party, the one who knew to call in all the favours and throw the biggest bash. But while he was busy thinking he was all that, his family were busy preparing Plan B, in preparation for his failures. All in a cardboard box.

Suddenly the room cheered as Quentin stepped out of the elevator along with Gabe – whom Lou hadn’t known was invited – each appearing with a pile of chairs stacked up in their arms.

‘There are more on the way!’ Quentin announced to the crowd, and suddenly the atmosphere perked up as the familiar faces that had aged since Lou’s youth looked to one another with relief, slight pain and an innocent excitement.

‘Lou!’ Gabe’s face lit up when he saw him. ‘I’m so glad you came.’ He laid the chairs out for a few elderly people nearby and approached Lou, hand held out, leaving Lou confused as to whose party it was. Gabe leaned close to Lou’s ear. ‘Did you double up?’

‘What? No.’ Lou shook him off, frustrated.

‘Oh,’ Gabe said with surprise. ‘The last I saw of you, you and Alison were having a meeting in your office. I didn’t realise you left the work party.’

‘Yes, of course I did. Why do you have to assume the worst, that I had to take one of those pills to show up at my own father’s party?’ he feigned insult.

Gabe merely smiled. ‘Hey, it’s funny how life works, isn’t it?’ He nudged Lou.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, the way one minute you can be up here, and then the next minute all the way down there?’ On Lou’s aggressive look, he continued, ‘I just meant that when we met last week, I was down there, looking up and dreaming about being here. And now look at me. It’s funny how it all switches around. I’m up in the penthouse; Mr Patterson gave me a new job –’

‘He what?’

‘Yeah, he gave me a job.’ Gabe grinned and winked. ‘A promotion.’

Before Lou had the opportunity to respond, a female staff member approached them with a tray.

‘Would anybody like some food?’ she smiled.

‘Oh, no, thank you, I’ll wait for the shepherd’s pie,’ Lou’s mother smiled at her.

‘This is the shepherd’s pie.’ The lady pointed to a small mini blob of potato sitting in a minuscule cupcake holder.