Cecelia Ahern - If You Could See Me Now

My heart stopped beating; I swear I felt it stop.

I took deep breaths and tried not to panic. “Elizabeth,” I called, my voice so shaky and distant I barely recognized myself.

She didn’t turn around. “I don’t know where he’s disappeared to, he was here just a minute ago.” She sounded angry. “He was supposed to get the barbecue ready.”

Benjamin laughed again. “How appropriate. Well, that’s a subtle way of asking, but I can do it, no problem.”

Elizabeth looked at him in confusion and lost in thought. “OK, great, thanks.” She continued looking around. I watched as Benjamin put the apron on over his head and Elizabeth explained everything all over again to him. I watched from the outside, no longer a part of the picture. People began to arrive and I felt dizzy as the garden began to fill, as the volume went up, voices and laughter grew louder, the smell of food became stronger. I watched as Elizabeth tried to force Joe to taste some of her flavored coffee as everyone else looked on and laughed; I watched Elizabeth and Benjamin’s heads close together as they shared a secret and then laughed; I watched as Elizabeth’s father stood at the end of the garden, blackthorn cane in one hand, cup and saucer in the other as he stared out wistfully to the rolling hills and waited for another of his daughters to return; I watched as Mrs. Bracken and her lady friends stood by the dessert table, sneakily taking another slice of cake when they thought that no one was looking.

But I saw them. I saw it all.

I was like a visitor in an art museum standing in front of a busy painting, trying to make sense of it, loving it so much and wanting to jump in and become a part of it. I was pushed farther and farther to the back of the garden; my head spun and my knees were weak.

I watched as Luke carried out Elizabeth’s birthday cake, helped by Poppy, and led everyone in singing while Elizabeth’s face pinked in surprise and embarrassment. I watched as she looked around for me and couldn’t find me, as she closed her eyes, made a wish, and blew out the candles like the little girl who never had her twelfth birthday party and who was living it all now. It brought back to me what Opal had said about me never having a birthday, never aging, while Elizabeth did and would this day, every year. The local village crowd smiled and cheered as she blew out the candles, but for me they represented the passing of time, and as she extinguished those dancing flames, she extinguished a tiny bit of hope that was left inside of me. They were another stab in the heart as to why we couldn’t be together. The cheery mass celebrated while I couldn’t help but be more aware than ever of the fact that with every minute that ticked by, she was getting older. Me, I just felt it.

“Ivan!” Elizabeth grabbed me from behind. “Where have you been for the past hour, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

I was so shocked that she acknowledged me, I could barely speak. “I’ve been here all day,” I said weakly, savoring every second her brown eyes locked on to mine.

“No, you haven’t, I’ve been by this way at least five times and you weren’t here. Are you OK?” She looked worried. “You look very pale.” She felt my forehead. “Have you eaten?”

I shook my head.

“I’ve just heated some pizza; let me get you some, OK? What kind do you want?”

“One with olives please, olives are by far my favorite.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied me curiously, looking me up and down. Slowly she said, “OK, I’ll go get it, but don’t go disappearing on me again, there are some people I want to introduce you to, OK?”

I nodded.

Moments later she came rushing out with a huge slice of pizza. It smelled so good, my stomach screamed out with joy and I hadn’t even thought I was hungry. I held my hands up to take the luscious slice from her but her brown eyes darkened, her face hardened, and she pulled the plate away. “Damnit, Ivan, where have you gone now?” she muttered, searching the garden with her eyes.

My knees were so weak now I couldn’t keep my body up anymore; I just collapsed onto the grass, back up against the wall of the house, leaning my elbows on my knees.

I heard a little whisper in my ear, felt the warm breath, and smelled sweets on Luke’s breath. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”

All I could do was nod.

This is the part where the fun stops. This part is, by far, not my favorite.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Feeling every mile with every step, every stone and pebble beneath the sole of my foot, and every second that ticked by, I eventually arrived at the hospital, exhausted and totally drained. There was still one friend who needed me.

Olivia and Opal must have seen it in my face when I entered the room; they must have seen the dark colors emanating from my body, the way my shoulders were slumped, the way the entire weight of everything in the atmosphere had suddenly decided to balance itself on my shoulders. I knew from the look in their tired eyes that they knew. Of course they knew, it was all a part of our job. At least twice a year we all met special people who consumed our days and nights and all of our thoughts, and each time, with each person, we had to go through the process of losing them. Opal liked to teach us that it wasn’t us losing them; it was a matter of them moving on. But I couldn’t see how I wasn’t losing Elizabeth. Without having any control, any ability to make her hold on to me, to still see me, she was slipping through my fingers. What did I win? What did I gain? Every time I left a friend, I was as lonely as the day before I met them and in Elizabeth’s case, lonelier, because I knew that I was missing out on the possibility of so much more. And here’s the sixty-four-million-dollar question: What do our friends get out of it?

A happy ending?

Would I call Elizabeth’s current situation a happy ending? Mothering a six-year-old boy she never wanted, worrying about a missing sister, a mother who had deserted her, and a complex father. Wasn’t her life the exact same as when I arrived?

But I guess this wasn’t Elizabeth’s ending. Remember the detail, Opal always tells me. I suppose what had changed in Elizabeth’s life was her mind, the way she was thinking. All I had done was merely planted the seed of hope; she alone could help it to grow. And because she was starting to lose sight of me, perhaps that seed was being cultivated.

I sat in the corner of the hospital room watching Opal clinging to Geoffrey’s hands as if she were hanging off the edge of the cliff. Perhaps she was. You could see in the expression of her face that she was willing for everything to be as it once was; I bet she would have done a deal with the devil right then and there if it would have brought him back. She would have gone to hell and back, she would have faced every single one of her fears just for him, right then.

The things we would do to go back in time.

The things we don’t do the first time ’round.

Opal’s words were being spoken through Olivia’s lips; Geoffrey could no longer speak. Tears were falling from Opal’s eyes and landing on his lifeless hands, her bottom lip was trembling. She wasn’t ready to let go. She had never let go of him and now it was too late, he was leaving before she had a chance.

She was losing him.

Life seemed dreary to me right then. As depressing as the cracked blue paint on the walls built to hold up a building intended to heal. They should have been stronger.

Geoffrey slowly raised a hand; you could tell he was mustering all his strength. The movement surprised everyone, as he hadn’t spoken in days, hadn’t reacted to anything at all. No one was more surprised than Opal, who suddenly felt the touch of his hand across her face, as he wiped away her tears. Contact after twenty years. He could finally see her. Opal kissed his large hand and allowed it to cradle her small face and comfort her through her shock, relief, and regret.