Cecelia Ahern - If You Could See Me Now

“It could be something, Mark.” Something that a sister in her right mind should have known, should have spotted.

Mark’s hands dropped from her face. “Don’t let her do this to you.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t let her make you choose her life over your own.”

“Don’t be ludicrous, Mark, she’s my sister, she is my life. I have to look out for her.” “Even though she never looks out for you. Even though she couldn’t care less whether you were here for her or not.”

It was like a thump in the stomach.

“But I’ve got you to look out for me.” She tried to lighten the mood, tried to make everyone happy as usual. “But I can’t if you won’t let me.” His eyes were dark with hurt and anger. “Mark.” Elizabeth tried to laugh but failed. “I promise I’ll be on the

earliest flight possible, I just need to find out what’s happened. Think about it. If this was your sister you’d be out of this airport long before now, you’d be by her side as we speak and you wouldn’t have given a bit of thought to having this stupid conversation.”

“Then what are you still standing here for?” he said coldly.

Anger and tears welled in Elizabeth all at once. She lifted her case and walked away from him. Walked out of the airport and rushed to the hospital.

She did return to New York, just as she promised him. She flew over two days after him, collected her belongings from their apartment, handed in her notice at work, and returned to Baile na gCroíthe with a pain in her heart so sore she almost couldn’t breathe.

Chapter Sixteen

Elizabeth was thirteen years old and had settled into her first few weeks of secondary school. This meant she had to travel farther out of town to go to school so she was up and out earlier than everyone else in the morning, and because classes finished later, she returned home in the dark in the evening. She was spending very little time with eleven-month-old Saoirse. Unlike her primary school bus, her new school bus dropped her at the end of the long road that led from the bungalow, leaving her alone on her walk to the front door, where nobody stood to greet her. It was winter and the dark mornings and evenings had taken over, draping black velvet over the country for the next few months. Elizabeth, for the third time that week, had walked down the road in the harsh wind and rain, her school skirt lifting and dancing around her legs while her heavy school bag laden with books stooped her back.

Now she sat by the fire, in her pajamas, trying to warm her body, with one eye on her homework, the other eye on Saoirse, who was crawling along the floor putting everything she could lay her chubby hands on in her drooling mouth. Her father was in the kitchen, heating up his homemade vegetable stew again. It was what they ate every day. Porridge for breakfast, stew for dinner. Occasionally, they would have a thick piece of beef or some fresh fish her father had caught that day. Elizabeth loved those days.

Saoirse gurgled and dribbled to herself, waving her hands around and watching Elizabeth, happy to see her big sister home. Elizabeth smiled at her and made encouraging noises before turning back to her homework. Using the couch as security, Saoirse pulled herself up onto her feet, as she had been doing for the past few weeks. She slowly stepped sideways, going back and forth, back and forth, before turning around to Elizabeth.

“Come on, Saoirse, you can do it.” Elizabeth put down her pencil and fixed her attention on her little sister. Every day now, Saoirse had attempted the walk across the room to her sister but had ended on her padded behind. Elizabeth was determined to be there when she finally made that leap. She wanted to make a song and dance about it like her mother would if she was still here.

Saoirse blew air out of her mouth, bubbles forming on her lips, and spoke in her own mysterious language.

“Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “Come to Elizabeth.” She held her arms out.

Slowly, Saoirse let go and with a determined look on her face she began to take those steps. Farther and farther she walked, while Elizabeth held her breath, trying not to shout in excitement for fear of throwing her off. Saoirse held Elizabeth’s stare all the way. Elizabeth would never forget that look in her baby sister’s eyes, such determination. Finally, she reached Elizabeth and she took her in her arms and danced her around, smothering her in kisses while Saoirse giggled and blew more bubbles.

“Dad, Dad!” Elizabeth called out.

“What?” he shouted crankily.

“Come here quick!” Elizabeth called, helping Saoirse applaud herself.

Brendan appeared at the door, concern written across his face.

“Saoirse walked, Dad! Look, do it again Saoirse, walk for Daddy!” She placed her sister on the floor and encouraged her to do it again.

Brendan huffed, “Jaysus, I thought it was something important, I thought there was somethin’ wrong with ya, don’t be botherin’ me like that.” He turned his back and returned to the kitchen.

When Saoirse looked up in her second attempt to show her family how clever she was and saw that her daddy was gone, her face fell and so did she, landing on her bum again.

Elizabeth had been at work the day Luke learned to walk; Edith had called her in the middle of a meeting and she couldn’t talk so had heard about it when she got home. Thinking about it now, she realized she had reacted very similarly to her dad and, once again, she hated herself for it. As an adult, she could now understand her father’s reaction; it wasn’t that he wasn’t proud or that he didn’t care, it was just that he cared too much. First they walk, then they Fly away.

The encouraging thought was, if Elizabeth had managed to help her sister to walk once, surely she could help her back on her feet a second time.

Elizabeth awoke with a jump, feeling cold and frozen in fear after her nightmare. Her eyes darted around the room. The moon had finished its shift on her side of the world and had moved on, making way for the sun. The silver-blue light across her bedclothes had been replaced by a yellow trail. It was four thirty-five and Elizabeth immediately felt awake. She propped herself up on her elbows. Her duvet lay half on the floor, the other half caught up in her legs. She’d had a fitful sleep in which dreams began and were unfinished before she jumped into new ones, overlapping into each other to create a bizarre blur of faces, places, and random words. She felt exhausted.

As she looked around the room, irritation seeped into her body. Although she had cleaned the house from top to bottom till it glistened two days ago, she had the urge to do it all over again. Items were out of place and kept catching the corner of her eye. She rubbed her nose, which was beginning to itch out of frustration, and she threw the bedclothes off her.

Immediately she began tidying. She had a total of twelve pillows to display on her bed, six rows of two, consisting of regular pillows, oblong-shaped, and circular at the front. All had different textures, ranging from rabbit fur to suede, and were various shades of cream, beige, and coffee. Once satisfied with the bed, she ensured that her clothes were hanging in the correct order, from dark colors on the left to bright on the right, although she had very little color in her wardrobe. Wearing the slightest bit of color, Elizabeth always felt as though she were walking down the street in flashing neon. She vacuumed the floor, dusted and polished the mirrors, and straightened the three small hand towels in the bathroom, taking a few minutes to perfectly align the stripes. The taps glistened and she kept on scrubbing furiously until she could see her reflection in the tiles. By six-thirty she had completed the living room and kitchen, and feeling less restless, she sat outside in the garden with a cup of coffee while looking over her designs in preparation for that morning’s meeting. She had gotten a total of three hours’ sleep that night.