Cecelia Ahern - P.S. I Love You

Silence, another deep breath and exhalation. “OK, well, that's all. Bye.”

Holly pressed PLAY again, lost in thought.

She sat in the living room staring at the tree and listening to Christmas songs. She cried. Cried for her Gerry and for her baldy Christmas tree.

Fifty

“HAPPY CHRISTMAS, LOVE!” FRANK OPENED the door to a shivering Holly standing on the doorstep.

“Happy Christmas, Dad,” she smiled, and gave him a big bear hug. She inhaled as she walked around the house. The beautiful smell of pine mixed with wine and Christmas dinner cooking in the kitchen filled her nostrils, and she was hit with a pang of loneliness. Christmas reminded her of Gerry. Gerry was Christmas. It was their special time together when they would hide from the stresses of work and just relax and entertain their friends and family and enjoy their time alone. She missed him so much it gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She had visited the graveyard that morning to wish him a happy Christmas. It was the first time she had been there since the funeral, and it had been an upsetting morning. No parcel under the tree for her, no breakfast in bed, no noise, no nothing. Gerry had wanted to be cremated, which meant that she had to stand in front of a wall that had his name engraved on it. And she really did feel like she was talking to a wall. However, she had told him about her year and what her plans were for the day, she had told him Sharon and John were expecting a baby boy and they were planning on calling him Gerry. She told him that she was to be his godmother; that she was to be maid of honor at Denise's wedding. She explained what Tom was like because Gerry had never met him, and she talked about her new job. She didn't mention Daniel. She had felt peculiar standing there talking to herself. She wanted to get some deep spiritual feeling that he was there with her and listening to her voice, but she really just felt like she was talking to a drab gray wall.

Her situation was no extraordinary sight on Christmas day. The graveyard had been packed with visitors, families bringing their aged mothers and fathers to visit their departed spouses, young women like Holly wandering alone, young men . . . She had watched as a young mother broke down over a gravestone while her two startled children watched on not knowing what to do.

The youngest child could only have been three years old. The woman had quickly dried her eyes to protect her children. Holly was thankful that she could afford to be selfish and only have to worry about herself. How on earth that woman could find the strength to carry on through the day with two toddlers to worry about jumped into Holly's head regularly that day.

All in all, it hadn't been a good day.

“Oh, happy Christmas, dear!” Elizabeth announced, walking out of the kitchen with her arms held open to embrace her child. Holly started to cry. She felt like the young child at the graveyard. She still needed her mummy, too. Elizabeth's face was flushed from the heat of the kitchen and the warmth of her body warmed Holly's heart.

“I'm sorry.” She wiped her face. “I didn't want to do that.”

“Hush,” Elizabeth said soothingly, hugging her even tighter. She didn't need to say anything more; just being there was enough.

Holly had called around to visit her mother the previous week in a panic about what to do about the Daniel situation. Elizabeth, not usually the baking kind of mother, was in the middle of making the Christmas cake for the following week. Her face was powdered with patches of flour, the sleeves of her sweater were rolled up to her elbows, bits of flour gathered in her hair.

The kitchen counter was covered in stray raisins, sultanas and cherries. Flour, pastry, baking trays and tin foil cluttered the surfaces. The kitchen was decorated in colorful glittery decorations and that wonderful festive smell filled the air.

The moment Elizabeth laid eyes on her daughter, Holly knew that she could sense there was something wrong. They sat at the kitchen table, which was overflowing with red and green Christmas serviettes with picture prints of Santa, reindeers and Christmas trees. There were boxes and boxes of Christmas crackers for the family to get competitive over, chocolate biscuits, beer and wine, the whole lot . . . Holly's parents had stocked up well for the Kennedy family.

“What's on your mind, love?” Holly's mother asked, pushing a plate of chocolate biscuits toward her.

Holly's stomach rumbled but she couldn't handle any food. Once again she had lost her appetite.

She took a deep breath and explained to her mother what had happened between her and Daniel and the decision she was faced with. Her mother listened patiently.

“So how do you feel about him?” Elizabeth asked, studying her daughter's face. Holly shrugged helplessly, “I like him, Mum, I really do but . . .” She shrugged again and trailed off.

“Is it because you don't feel ready just yet for another relationship?” her mother asked gently.

Holly rubbed her forehead roughly. “Oh, I don't know, Mum, I don't feel like I know anything anymore.” She thought for a while. “Daniel is a brilliant friend. He is always there for me, he always makes me laugh; he makes me feel good about myself . . .” She picked up a biscuit and began to pick away at the crumbs. “But I don't know if I'll ever feel ready for another relationship, Mum. Maybe I will, maybe I won't; maybe this is as ready as I'll ever feel. He's not Gerry, but I'm not expecting him to be. What I feel now is a different kind of feeling; but a nice one, too.” She paused to think about that feeling. “I don't know if I'll ever love the same way again. I find it hard to believe that will happen, but it's a nice thought to have that maybe someday I could.” She smiled sadly at her mother.

“Well, you don't know if you can if you don't try,” Elizabeth said encouragingly. “It's important not to rush into things, Holly. I know you know that, but all I want is for you to be happy. You deserve it. Whether being happy is with Daniel, the man on the moon or without anybody, I just want you happy.”

“Thanks, Mum.” Holly smiled weakly and rested her head on her mother's soft shoulder. “I just don't know which of those things will do that for me.”

As comforting as her mother was to her that day, Holly was no closer to making her decision.

First she had to get through Christmas day without Gerry.

The rest of Holly's family, minus Ciara who was still in Australia, joined them in the living room and one by one they greeted her with warm hugs and kisses. They gathered around the tree and exchanged gifts and Holly allowed the tears to flow all throughout. She hadn't the energy to hide them; she hadn't the energy to care. But the tears were a strange mixture of happiness and sadness. A peculiar sensation of feeling alone yet loved.

Holly sneaked away from the family so she could have a moment to herself; her head was a jumble of thoughts that needed to be sorted and filed. She found herself in her old bedroom staring out the window into the dark blustery day. The sea was fierce and threatening and Holly shuddered at its power.

“So this is where you were hiding.”

Holly turned to see Jack watching her from the bedroom door. She smiled weakly and turned around to face the sea again, uninterested in her brother and his recent lack of support. She listened to the waves and watched the black water swallow the sleet that had begun to fall. She heard Jack sigh loudly and felt his arm around her shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said softly.

Holly raised her eyebrows, unimpressed, and continued to stare ahead.

He nodded to himself slowly. “You're right to treat me like this, Holly, I've been acting like a complete idiot lately. And I'm so sorry.”