Cecelia Ahern - P.S. I Love You

She was jealous of them and their good fortune. She was angry with them for moving on without her. Even in the company of friends she felt alone; in a room of a thousand people she would feel alone. But mostly when she roamed the rooms of her quiet house she felt so alone.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt truly happy, when somebody or something caused her to laugh so hard her stomach pained her and her jaw ached. She missed going to bed at night with absolutely nothing on her mind, she missed enjoying eating food instead of it becoming something she just had to endure in order to stay alive, she hated the butterflies she got in her tummy every time she remembered Gerry. She missed enjoying watching her favorite television programs instead of their just becoming something she would stare at blankly to pass the hours.

She hated feeling like she had no reason to wake up; she hated the feeling when she did wake up. She hated the feeling of having no excitement or anything to look forward to. She missed the feeling of being loved, of knowing Gerry was watching her as she watched television or ate her dinner. She missed sensing his eyes on her as she entered a room; she missed his touches, his hugs, his words of advice, his words of love.

She hated counting down the days till she could read another one of his messages because they were all she had left of him, and after this one there would be only three more. And she hated to think of what her life might be like when there would be no more Gerry. Memories were fine, but you couldn't touch them, smell them or hold them. They were never exactly as the moment had been, and they faded with time.

So damn Sharon and Denise, they could go on with their happy lives, but for the next few months all Holly had was Gerry. She wiped a tear from her face, tears had become such a permanent feature on her face the past few months, and she slowly opened her seventh envelope.

Shoot for the moon, and if you miss you'll still be among the stars.

Promise me you will find a job you love this time!

PS, I love you . . .

Holly read and reread the letter, trying to discover how it made her feel. She had been dreading going back to work for such a long time now, had believed that she wasn't ready to move on, that it was too soon. But now she knew she had no choice. It was time. And if Gerry said it was to be, it would be. Holly's face broke into a smile. “I promise, Gerry,” she said happily. Well, it was no holiday to Lanzarote, but at least it was one step further to getting her life back on track.

She studied his writing for a long time after reading it, as she always did, and when she was satisfied with the fact she had analyzed every word, she rushed over to the kitchen drawer, took out a notepad and pen and began to write her own list of possible jobs.

LIST OF POSSIBLE JOBS

1. FBI Agent?–Am not American. Do not want to live in America. Have no police experience.

2. Lawyer–Hated school. Hated studying. Do not want to go to college for ten million years.

3. Doctor–Ugghh.

4. Nurse–Unflattering uniforms.

5. Waitress–Would eat all the food.

6. Professional people-spotter–Nice idea, but no one would pay me.

7. Beautician–Bite my nails and wax as rarely as possible. Do not want to see areas of other people's bodies.

8. Hairdresser–Would not like boss like Leo.

9. Retail assistant–Would not like boss like Denise.

10. Secretary–NEVER AGAIN.

11. Journalist–Cont spill properly enuff. Ha-ha, should be comedienne.

12. Comedienne–Reread last joke. Wasn't funny.

13. Actress–Could not possibly outdo my wonderful performance in the critically acclaimed

“Girls and the City.”

14. Model–Too small, too fat, too old.

15. Singer–Rethink idea of comedienne (number 12).

16. Hotshot businesswoman in control of life–Hmm . . . Must do research tomorrow . . .

Holly finally collapsed onto her bed at three in the morning and dreamed of being a big hotshot advertising woman making a presentation in front of a huge conference table on the top floor of a skyscraper overlooking Grafton Street. Well, he did say aim for the moon . . . She woke up early that morning excited from her dreams of success, had a quick shower, beautified herself and walked down to her local library to look up jobs on the Internet.

Her heels made a loud noise on the wooden floor as she walked across the room to the librarian's desk, which caused several people to look up from their books and stare at her. She continued clattering across the huge room and her face blushed as she realized everyone was watching her. She slowed down immediately and started to tiptoe so as not to attract any more attention. She felt like one of the cartoon characters on TV that hugely exaggerated their tiptoeing, and her face flared up even more when she realized she must have looked like a complete idiot. A couple of schoolkids dressed in their uniforms who were obviously playing truant for the day sniggered together as she made her way past their table. Holly stopped her weird walk halfway between the door and the librarian's desk and tried to decide what to do next.

“Shush!” The librarian scowled over at the schoolkids. More people looked up from their books to watch the woman standing in the middle of the room. She decided to keep on walking and quickened her pace. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor and echoed around the room and the sound got faster and faster as she raced to the desk in order to end this humiliation.

The librarian looked up and smiled and tried to appear surprised to see someone standing at the counter. As if she hadn't heard Holly thudding across the room.

“Hi,” Holly whispered quietly, “I was wondering if I could use the Internet.”

“Excuse me?” The librarian spoke normally and moved her head closer to Holly so she could hear.

“Oh,” Holly cleared her throat, wondering what happened to having to whisper in libraries, “I was wondering if I could use the Internet.”

“No problem, they're just over there,” she smiled, directing her over to the row of computers on the far side of the room. “It's five euro for every twenty minutes online.”

Holly handed over her last ten euro. It was all she had managed to take out of her bank account that morning. She had kept a long line of people waiting behind her at the ATM machine as she worked her way down from one hundred euro to ten as the ATM embarrassingly beeped every time she entered a sum of money to let her know she had “insufficient funds.” She couldn't believe that was all she had left, but it had given her even more reason to go job-hunting immediately.

“No no,” the librarian said, handing back her money, “you can pay when you finish.”

Holly stared across the floor to the computers. She would have to make another big noise just to get there. She took a deep breath and raced over, passing rows and rows of tables. Holly nearly laughed at the sight of everyone; it was almost like dominos as she passed, each head arose from a book to stare at her. Finally she reached the computers and realized that there were none free.

She felt like she had just lost a game of musical chairs and that everyone was laughing at her.

This was getting ridiculous. She raised her hands angrily at them as if to say, “What are you all looking at?” and they quickly buried their heads in their books again.

Holly stood in the center of the floor between the rows of tables and computers, drummed her fingers on her handbag and looked around. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head as she spotted Richard tapping away on one of the computers. She tiptoed over to him and touched him on the shoulder. He jumped with fright and swirled around in his chair.