Cecelia Ahern - How to Fall in Love

‘Christine,’ Leo suddenly appeared at the door. His secretary had of course told him I was waiting, but he still couldn’t hide his surprise.

‘Leo, I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment,’ I said, my voice low so I wouldn’t anger the others in the waiting room.

‘No problem,’ he said pleasantly, leading me to his office. ‘I have a few minutes between appointments. I’m sorry it can’t be longer, but I gather you said it was urgent.’

I sat before his desk, trying not to look around too much, though after imagining his office and the things we’d done there so many times in my mind it was hard not to want to know what the reality was. I glanced at the filing cabinet and thought of handcuffs. My face began to heat up and I knew I was turning puce.

‘I’m guessing this is about your husband.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Barry.’

I looked at him in surprise. ‘Actually, no.’

‘You’re here for a session?’ he said, surprised.

‘Why, what did you think I was here for?’

‘Well, I thought it might be related to the um … phone call that I received.’

‘From who?’

‘From Barry. Isn’t that your husband? He said he was your husband. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake?’

‘Oh!’ I said, realising, my face turning even more crimson. ‘He called you?’ I whispered, afraid to say the words aloud. The thought was too much for me to bear. How had Barry got his number? I thought back to the computer I’d left behind in the apartment. He must have got his hands on my contact list. There was no end to my cringing.

It was Leo’s turn to go red. ‘Er … yes, I assumed you knew. I wouldn’t have said anything about it if I’d realised you didn’t know … I’m sorry.’

‘What did he say?’ My voice was a little above a whisper.

‘He believed that, um, we, that you and I were, um … well, I think the more polite way of putting it would be that he believed we were having an affair.’

I gasped. ‘Oh my … Leo … I’m so sorry … I don’t know how on earth he …’ I struggled to find the words.

‘Well, that’s more politely than he put it anyway.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said firmly, finding my voice, trying to remain professional. ‘I have no idea how or why he would have come to that conclusion. He’s going through a bit of a … I mean, we’re going through a bit of a …’ nightmare , I finished, to myself.

‘He said something about finding a heart around my name …’ Leo continued, his face as scarlet as mine.

‘He said what?’ My eyes sprung open wide. ‘What on earth – I have no idea …’ I thought of the notepad I kept by the computer, the one I doodled on when working, I thought of the love hearts I always drew, sometimes stars, sometimes spirals, then remembered the one time, the one ridiculous childish moment where I’d put Leo’s name in my bubble heart and thought it was funny, like I was back to being a schoolgirl again, like I had a choice who I could fancy, like it was a carefree, enjoyable thing instead of a betrayal. Trapped, trapped. I’d felt trapped and a name in a bubble heart had freed me for one moment, and now it had come back to haunt me. I cringed, I felt slightly sick, I wanted very much to get out of the office.

‘He told my wife, actually,’ he said, a little firmer now, his face no longer red, his anger coming through a bit more. ‘I learned about it from her. She’s pregnant. Six months. A most unwelcome time for her to hear that kind of thing.’

‘He what?! Oh my lord, oh my goodness. Leo, once again, I’m so sorry, I …’ I kept shaking my head, looking around, wanting the floor to swallow me whole. ‘I hope she understands it isn’t true? I mean, I could call her to explain, if you think that would—’

‘No. I don’t think that would help,’ he said curtly, interrupting.

‘Okay.’ I nodded. ‘I understand, believe me, I completely understand.’ I looked around. I wanted to leave but I was quite paralysed.

‘What did you come to see me about, if it wasn’t that?’

‘Oh, never mind.’ I stood up, my face behind my hands, I was so mortified.

‘Christine, please, it sounded important. And this meeting, you said it was urgent.’

I really wanted to leave. I wanted nothing more than to walk out of this office, never to see his face again, to find a way of deleting the memory, all knowledge of the conversation that had passed, but I couldn’t. I owed it to Adam to help him the best way I could, and that meant swallowing my pride, my everything, and asking for help.

As I gave up the struggle, I felt a sudden freedom. ‘It’s not about me, actually. I’m here on behalf of a friend.’

‘Of course,’ he said, not sounding as though he believed me.

‘No, really, it is about a friend, but that friend refuses to see a therapist and so I’m here on his behalf.’

‘Of course,’ he said in exactly the same tone, which was incredibly frustrating. If I’d told him it was about my pet monkey he probably would have replied in the same way.

So I told him the story of Adam and I, in the brief time we had, summarising Adam’s attempt to end his life, my promise to help him, our journey together and the steps I’d taken him on in an effort to help him to enjoy life.

‘Christine,’ Leo sat up in his large leather chair, looking concerned. ‘This is rather troubling.’

‘I know. Now you can understand why I’m here.’

‘Of course your friend’s situation is a concern, but it’s more that what you have been doing with him, from a therapist’s point of view, is incredibly damaging to him.’

I froze. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Where do I start?’ He shook his head as if to clear it. ‘Where did you learn these “tips” on how to enjoy life?’

‘From a book,’ I said, my heart banging.

There was a flash of anger in his eyes and then he said sternly, ‘This pop psychology is a menace. Christine, you have taken the power away from him.’

Seeing my confused look, he continued: ‘You do not know better than him. You cannot help him by taking away his integrity. By trying to “fix” his life, you are disempowering him, because intrinsically nothing will have changed, you’ll simply have made him dependent upon you. Your pursuit of these quick-fix methods that you read in a book—’

‘I’ve been trying to help him,’ I said, angry.

‘Indeed, I understand that,’ he said gently, ‘and as a friend I understand what you have tried to do. But as a therapist – which I must point out is something that you are not – I have to say that you have not gone about this in the right way.’

‘So I should have pushed him off the bridge?’ I said angrily, standing up.

‘Of course not. What I’m saying is, you must give him the power. You must let him have his own life in his own hands.’

‘He tried to take his own life!’

‘You’re upset. I understand that you were trying to do the right thing, and that this is a particularly stressful time for you —’

‘This isn’t about me , Leo. It’s about Adam. All I want to know is how do I make him better? Just tell me how to fix him!’

There was a long silence as he looked at me, then he smiled gently and said, ‘Did you hear what you said, Christine?’

I had and I was trembling.

‘You can’t fix him. He needs to help himself. I suggest you confine yourself to being there for him, listening to him, supporting him. But whatever you do, stop trying to fix him before you go too far.’

I looked at him sadly.

‘I hope that’s of help to you. I’m sorry we didn’t have more time today, but if your friend would like to make an appointment with me I would be more than willing to oblige. And if you feel it would help you to speak to somebody, I’ll happily refer you to another therapist here I value highly.’ Registering my confusion, he added, ‘My wife would find my treating you … inappropriate.’