Cecelia Ahern - How to Fall in Love

‘That was such a bad idea, Christine,’ he said, his face all dark and frowning and concerned.

‘I’m fine,’ I insisted, holding my hands in front of the extractor fan. ‘I just need a minute.’

‘Let’s go back to the flat,’ he said. ‘You can have a hot shower, and a coffee to warm up.’

‘I know a twenty-four-hour garage that does crap coffee,’ I managed through chattering teeth. ‘We’re not finished yet.’

‘We can’t give this to her now,’ he said, looking at the dripping lily pad in the back seat. ‘She’ll still be in bed.’

‘That’s not where we’re going.’

With a hot coffee inside me and another one waiting in the cup holder, I finally started to thaw.

‘Why are we driving to Howth?’

‘You’ll see.’

Another recommendation in How to Enjoy Life in Thirty Simple Ways , after eating and walking, had been to watch a sunset or sunrise. I was hoping the light rising would help enlighten Adam. And if it worked for me too, then I wasn’t going to complain. I drove up the coast road to Howth Summit and we were the only car in the car park. It was six-thirty a.m. and the sky was clear, the perfect setting for the sunrise over Dublin Bay.

We pushed our seats back, reached for our coffees, turned the radio on low and watched the sky. In the distance, pink was beginning to rise up from the sea.

‘And … action,’ Adam said. He opened a brown bag and held it out to me. I smelled sugar, my stomach churned and I shook my head.

He reached in and helped himself to a cinnamon roll. ‘Look how cinnamony the cinnamon is and how citric the lemon peel is,’ he said. ‘I am tasting my food and acknowledging it.’ His voice became robotic. ‘I am partaking in one of the many joys of life.’

‘At least you’re getting the hang of it.’

He bit into it and chewed, then he spat it back into the paper bag, dumped the rest of it in with it and scrunched the bag up. ‘How do people eat that crap?’

I shrugged.

‘Tell me something else funny that you did for Maria or that you did with her?’

‘Why?’

‘Because I need to know.’ It was easy for me to say that, but truth be told, I couldn’t stop thinking about the things he had done for her, the unusual gifts he got her. I longed to hear more.

‘Uh.’ He thought about it. ‘She was a fan of Where’s Wally – you know those books? So when I wanted to ask her out on our first date, I dressed up as him and kept appearing somewhere, everywhere she was. I wouldn’t look at her. She’d be shopping and I’d walk through the shop without saying anything. I followed her around for the day, just appearing.’

I looked at him and my eyebrows shot up as far as they could go. Then I burst out laughing.

He beamed. ‘She thought the same thankfully and said yes to going out with me.’ Then his smile quickly faded.

‘You’ll get her back, Adam.’

‘Yeah. I hope so.’

We were quiet as we watched the sky.

‘If that lily pad doesn’t get her back, I don’t know what will,’ he said seriously.

I burst out laughing. By the time I stopped the sky was bright.

‘Right,’ I said, putting the key in the ignition. ‘Feel better?’

‘Totally,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I no longer have the urge to kill myself.’

‘Thought so.’ I started up the engine and we drove home.

I was sitting on the only chair my dad had furnished the kitchen with, cleaning the lily pad first with a baby wipe and then buffing it to a shine with furniture polish. It was quite an impressive lily pad; it had a perfect ridge along the outside and I’d even tested the teapot and teacups on it for strength. I’d polished it up to perfection, and reasoned that the mild headache and cold I felt coming on was worth it. I was admiring my handiwork when at eight a.m. my phone started beeping. I battled with myself over whether to listen to the voicemail. I knew it was Barry, that it was more insults and hate, and I knew that I shouldn’t listen but somehow I couldn’t help it. I felt I at least owed it to him to listen, that ignoring his hurt would be yet another rejection.

Adam joined me in the kitchen. ‘Is that him?’

I nodded.

‘Why does he call at the same time every day?’

‘Because that’s when he’s up and dressed. Come eight a.m., he’s at the kitchen table having a cup of tea and toast and a meltdown, checking his phone and thinking of ways to bring me down with him.’

I felt Adam watching me, but I didn’t look at him, merely continued polishing the lily pad, the ridiculousness of the situation not lost on me. He was having a meltdown and I was polishing a lily pad that I’d stolen from a public park. Neither of us had gotten out of the break-up okay.

‘Are you going to listen to them?’

I sighed and finally looked up at him. ‘Probably.’

‘To remind yourself why you left him?’

‘No.’ I decided to be honest. ‘Because it’s my punishment.’

He frowned.

‘Because every horrible thing he tells me hurts me to my very core, and if that’s my punishment for leaving him, then it makes me feel like I’m earning my freedom. So once again, I am a totally selfish individual who is using somebody else’s pain as a way for me to feel better about myself.’

He looked at me, wide-eyed. ‘Jesus. You don’t half analyse shit. Can I listen?’

I put down the lily pad and nodded. I watched him as he sat on the counter and listened to Barry’s message, his face constantly changing – eyebrows lifting and lowering, forehead creasing, mouth opening in a delighted surprise – to display how entertaining he found Barry’s insults, then he hung up, eager to report back on what he’d heard.

‘You’ll love this one,’ he laughed, eyes shining. The phone beeped in his hand. ‘Hold on, he’s left another one! This guy is unreal,’ he chuckled, enjoying the entertainment snooping into my private life brought. ‘Good man, Barry!’ he teased. He dialled my voicemail again and listened. The smile froze, and the shine disappeared from his eyes.

My heart pounded.

Thirty seconds later he jumped down from the counter – not a long fall as his legs were so long – and handed me the phone. He wouldn’t meet my gaze, then awkwardly began to leave the room.

‘What did he say?’

‘Ah, nothing interesting.’

‘Adam! You were eager enough to tell me about the first message.’

‘Ah that, yeah, okay, it was something stupid about your friend. Some girl called Julie who he says is a whore – no, wait: a slut. He used to see her out with different guys all the time. He met her in Leeson Street one night and she was with some guy who he knows was married.’ Adam shrugged. ‘He had some things to say about her choice of attire.’

‘And that was funny to you?’

‘Well, his delivery was quite exceptional.’ He smiled a small smile. Then a sad smile.

I shook my head. Julie was one of my closest friends from college, the same Julie who had moved to Toronto and left her car with me to sell. Barry’s attempts to hurt me continued.

‘And what was the other message?’

He continued to walk away.

‘Adam!’

‘Nothing really. It didn’t make sense. It was more of a tirade of angry … anger.’ He stared at me, silent, then he left the room.

The way he looked at me, full of sympathy, pity … intrigue? I couldn’t quite place it but it bothered me. I dialled into my voicemail.

‘You have no new messages.’

‘Adam, you deleted my messages!’ I followed him into the living room.

‘Did I? Sorry.’ He concentrated on his computer.

‘You did it on purpose.’

‘Did I?’

‘What did he say? Tell me.’