Cecelia Ahern - If You Could See Me Now

Elizabeth wiped her eyes with a mascara-stained crumpled tissue. “Don’t you ever work?”

“I work all the time. May I?” He gestured to the chair opposite her.

She nodded. “All the time? So is this work for you? Am I just another hopeless case for you to deal with today?” she asked sarcastically, catching a tear halfway down her cheek with the tissue.

“There’s nothing hopeless about you, Elizabeth, however, you are a case; I’ve already told you that,” he said seriously.

She laughed. “A headcase.”

Ivan looked sad. Misunderstood again.

“So, is that your uniform?” She nodded at his attire.

Ivan looked down at himself in surprise.

“You’ve been wearing that outfit every day I’ve seen you.” She smiled. “So it’s either a uniform or you’re completely unhygienic and lack imagination.”

Ivan’s eyes widened. “Oh, Elizabeth, I don’t lack imagination at all.”

Elizabeth laughed wearily.

Not realizing what he had implied, Ivan continued, “Do you want to talk about why you are so sad?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, we’re always talking about me and my problems. Let’s talk about you for a change. What did you do today?” she asked, trying to perk herself up. It had seemed like such a long time since she had kissed Ivan on the main street that morning. She had thought about it all day and had worried about who had seen her, but amazingly, for a town that learned of everything quicker than Sky News, nobody had mentioned a thing to her about the mystery man.

She had longed to kiss Ivan all day, had felt scared about that longing and tried to numb herself of feeling for him, but she couldn’t. There was something about him so pure and untarnished, yet he was powerful and well-versed on life. He was like the drug she knew she shouldn’t take, but the drug that kept coming back to feed her addiction. As her weariness set in later in the day, the memory of the kiss had become a comfort to her and the uneasiness vanished. All she wanted now was a repeat of that moment when her troubles fizzled away.

“What did I do today?” Ivan twiddled his thumbs and thought aloud. “Well, today I gave Baile na gCroíthe a big wake-up call, kissed a very beautiful woman, and then spent the rest of the day being unable to do anything but think of her.”

Elizabeth’s face brightened and his piercing blue eyes warmed her heart.

“And then I couldn’t stop thinking.”

“About what?”

“Apart from the beautiful woman?” Ivan smiled.

“Apart from her.” Elizabeth laughed.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I can take it.”

Ivan looked uncertain. “OK, if you really want to know.” He took a deep breath. “I thought about the Borrowers.”

Elizabeth frowned. “What?”

“The Borrowers,” Ivan repeated, looking thoughtful.

“The television program,” Elizabeth said, feeling irate. She had prepared herself for whispers of sweet nothings, like in the movies, not this unscripted loveless conversation.

“Yes.” Ivan rolled his eyes, not noticing her tone. “If you want to refer to that commercial side of them.” He sounded angry. “But I thought long and hard about it and I’ve come to the conclusion that they didn’t borrow. They stole . They downright stole and everybody knows it, but nobody ever talks about it. To borrow means to take and use something belonging to someone else and then eventually return it. I mean, when did they ever give anything back? I don’t recall Peagreen Clock ever giving anything back to the Lenders at all, do you? Especially the food, how can you borrow food? You eat it and it’s gone, there’s no giving it back; at least when I eat your dinner you know where it’s going.” He sat back and folded his arms, looking cross. “And they get a film made about them, a bunch of thieves, while us? We do nothing but good, but we get labeled a figment of people’s imaginations and are still”—he made a face and made inverted commas with his fingers—“ invisible . Please.” He rolled his eyes.

Elizabeth stared at him openmouthed.

There was a long silence as Ivan looked around the kitchen, shaking his head in anger, and then returned his attention to Elizabeth. “What?”

Silence.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I told you, you wouldn’t want to know. So, enough about my problems, please tell me what’s happened?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, the question of Saoirse distracting her from the confusing talk of the Borrowers. “Saoirse has disappeared. Joe, the man with his finger on the pulse of Baile na gCroíthe, told me she headed off with the group of people she was hanging out with. He heard it from a family member of a guy from the group she’s with, but she’s been gone for three days and no one seems to know where they’ve gone.”

“Oh,” Ivan said in surprise. “And here I am rattling off my problems. Did you tell the Gardaí?”

“I had to,” she said sadly. “I felt like a snitch, but they had to know she was gone just in case she didn’t turn up for her hearing in a few weeks, which I’m almost sure she won’t be at. I’ll have to get a solicitor to go on her behalf, which won’t look very good.” She rubbed her face tiredly.

He took her hands and cradled them in his own. “She’ll be back,” he said confidently. “Maybe not for the hearing, but she’ll come back. Believe me. There’s no need to worry.” His voice was soft, but firm.

Elizabeth stared deep into his eyes, searching for the truth, and smiled sadly. “I believe you.” But deep down, Elizabeth was afraid; she was afraid of believing Ivan, afraid of believing at all. When that happened, her hopes were raised up the flagpole, waving and blowing in the breeze for all to see, and there they would weather the storms and winds, only to be lowered tattered and ruined.

And she didn’t think she could spend any more years with her bedroom curtains open, with one eye on the road waiting for a second person to return. She was weary and she needed to close her eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Six

As soon as I left Elizabeth’s house the next morning, I decided to head straight to Opal. Actually, I had decided I was going to do that long before I left Elizabeth’s house. Something Elizabeth said had hit a nerve; actually, everything she said hit a nerve with me. When I was with her I was like a hedgehog, all prickly and sensitive, as though all of my senses were alert. The funny thing is, I thought all my senses had been alert already, as a professional best friend they should have been, but there was one emotion I hadn’t experienced before and that was love. Sure, I loved all my friends, but not in this way, not in the way that made my heart thud when I looked at Elizabeth, not in a way that made me want to be with her the whole time. And I didn’t want to be with her for her , I realized it was for me. This love thing awakened a group of slumbering senses in my body that I never even knew existed.

I cleared my throat, checked my appearance, and made my way into Opal’s office. In Ekam Eveileb there were no doors, because nobody here could open them, but there was another reason—doors acted as barriers, they were thick, unwelcoming things that you could control to shut people in or out and we didn’t agree with that. We chose open-plan offices for a more open and friendly atmosphere. Although that’s what we were always taught, lately I had found Elizabeth’s fuchsia front door with the smiling letter box to be the friendliest door I had ever seen, so that shot that particular theory to hell. She was making me question all sorts of things.