This Charming Man

by Marian Keyes

  ‘They won’t like it.’

  ‘No one is forcing them to visit me on a Friday night.’ I was flexing power muscles. Like Mrs Butterly barring those people she doesn’t like the look of.

  ‘Power corrupts,’ Rossa Considine said.

  ‘So they say. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.’ Quote from someone. ‘Who said that?’

  ‘Confucius?’

  ‘John le Carré?’

  ‘Duran Duran?’

  ‘Someone,’ we were agreed upon. ‘Definitely someone.’

  23.01

  End of Law and Order

  Excellent episode, we both agreed. Dark, gritty, compelling.

  I got to my feet. Brushed away tortilla crumbs from my dress, watched them sprinkle onto the rug. Flicked glance at Rossa Considine. He was also watching tortilla crumbs sprinkling onto rug.

  ‘I will have to clean that up,’ he said.

  Knew it, knew it, just knew he’d be sulky! ‘Apologies, apologies, please give me sweeping brush. I will do it myself right now.’

  ‘No need, no need, guest in my home.’

  ‘Only you seem riled.’

  ‘Not riled.’

  ‘Sulky, perhaps?’

  ‘Shut up, Lola Daly.’

  ‘Thank you for sharing your television with me,’ I said. ‘Sorry about your rug. See you tomorrow night when you will be a trannie?’

  ‘Cross-dresser. No need to rush off immediately, Lola Daly.’

  ‘Oh yes, need, I think,’ I said. ‘Let’s not push our luck.’

  23.04

  Safely back in own house, without confrontation from Jake the Love-God

  Wiping toner over face when phone rang and every nerve in body leapt. At this stage, poor bastards ragged and exhausted from all the leaping.

  Checked caller display. Not Paddy. That was all I needed to know.

  Since the night of his unexpected phone call, almost four weeks ago, had been bag of nerves, almost as bad as when news first broke that he was getting married.

  When had answered phone to discover was him on the line, swearing how much he missed me, I simply could not believe it.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he’d said, into my flabbergasted ears. ‘Little Lola, I treated you so badly. The way you found out about Alicia… I’m so sorry. The press got hold of rumour and whole thing blew up before I had chance to talk to you.’

  Every word I had ever fantasized about him saying was issuing from his mouth.

  ‘Even Alicia didn’t know she was getting married until she heard it on the news.’

  Wasn’t so interested in hearing about Alicia.

  ‘I miss you so much,’ he said. ‘In all these months, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.’

  Is this happening? Is this actually, really happening?

  ‘Can I see you?’ he asked. ‘Please, Lola. Will I send Spanish John for you?’

  ‘You still getting married?’ I asked, not quite the malleable fool I used to be.

  ‘Oh Lola.’ Heavy sigh. ‘You know I am. Have to. She is right woman for my job.’ He sounded so bleak that for moment genuinely felt his dilemma. ‘But you are woman I really want, Lola. Is impossible situation. Am torn in two. Will be quite honest, this is the best I can offer you.’

  I let this information settle. At least he was being straight with me.

  ‘Will I send Spanish John?’ he asked.

  ‘Am not in Dublin.’

  ‘Oh?’ Change in tone. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘County Clare.’

  ‘Clare. Right. But you could drive to Dublin. How long it take?’

  ‘Three hours. Maybe three and half.’

  ‘That long? Even with Kildare bypass?’

  They speak about Kildare bypass as though it was magic hole in hyper-space. Funny the things you think about when in shock. Was also thinking something else. Was thinking that it was 10.30 at night. Earliest time I would get to Dublin, even if drove like the clappers and got speeding tickets and points on licence and appearance before magistrate and name printed in local paper, would be 1 in morning. Too late. Not right.

  ‘Paddy.’ Reaching deep into self, rummaging around in drawer containing rarely used emotions and locating and dusting off self-respect. ‘Is already ten-thirty. Ring me again in the morning and we’ll make arrangement for better time.’

  ‘Oh… right… I see.’ Sounded startled.

  Pleased with myself.

  ‘Grace Gildee still bothering you?’ he asked.

  ‘… Um…’ Abrupt change in conversation. ‘No. She stopped long time ago.’

  ‘Good. Tell me, Lola, do you hate me?’

  Sometimes I did. Flashes of bad, burny hatred. But now that he had rung, with such anguish in his voice, all bad, burny feelings were gone. ‘Don’t hate you, Paddy.’

  ‘Good. Great. Better let you go now.’

  Wanted to stay talking to him, wanted to hold on to this precious, precious chance for ever. But knew that best way to hold on was to let go. (Paradox.) ‘Yes. Talk to you in morning, Paddy.’

  ‘Yes, talk to you in morning.’

  Straight away, incandescent with triumph, I rang Bridie. Who made me repeat entire conversation word for word. She listened without interruption and when I finished I said, ‘What you think?’

  ‘What I think?’ Bridie said. ‘What I think is he won’t ring in the morning. Or ever again,’ she added.

  ‘Unnecessary brutality, Bridie!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Cruel to be kind.’

  ‘You may stick your kindness!’

  ‘You will thank me for this.’

  ‘Words of comfort, please, Bridie, I insist on words of comfort!’

  ‘Only words of comfort I have for you, Lola, are “Heavy doses of vitamin B.” Especially B6 and B12. Also maybe B5. And B2. Your central nervous system will be worked to the bone every time phone rings for next two weeks, setting up false – yes, entirely false – expectation that it is Paddy de Courcy on the line. Vitamins may prevent you from having breakdown.’

  ‘He will ring me tomorrow.’

  ‘Lola! It was BOOTY CALL. It is OBVIOUS.’

  ‘He said he misses me.’

  ‘He misses having someone to handcuff to his bedpost, to act out his rape fantasies. You don’t think horse-face lets him do that, do you?’

  ‘Horse-face repressed. I am sexually evolved.’

  ‘One way of putting it.’

  ‘Am sorry now I rang you to share my good news. Goodbye, Bridie.’

  I hung up, and lay on couch, eating savoury snacks and thinking about strangeness of things – life, trajectories of romance, shape of Monster Munch. One minute had been rejected by two men – Jake, Paddy – and the next, both were prostrating themselves and requesting forgiveness. What’s it all about? Universe is contrary diva.

  Mid-reverie, my phone rang again and I almost levitated above couch, every nerve ajangle.

  It was only Bridie. She said, ‘Did I say B5?’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes. Get off line, please, you are blocking Paddy de Courcy from ringing.’

  ‘Strongest dose in the chemist, remember.’

  The following morning, I awoke at 6 a.m., waiting for Paddy to ring. Knew he would. I had held out, had refused him. He liked what he couldn’t have.

  When phone rang at 9.16 a.m., although hair stood briefly on end, smiled to self. Last night’s sacrifice had been worth it.

  But no! Last night’s sacrifice had not been worth it! Was only Bridie.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Let me guess. Your heart is pounding, your blood is racing, your mouth is dry. If you knew what all that was doing to your poor central nervous system. Is your synapse endings I feel for.’

  ‘What you want, Bridie?’ Attitude of coldness.

  ‘Checking you okay.’

  ‘Not checking on me. Gloating.’

  ‘Not gloating. Caring, yes, caring, Lola, caring. So he hasn’t rung yet?’

  �
��How could he ring when you are constantly cluttering up bloody line?’

  Sudden noisy rapping on front door.

  ‘Bridie, someone is at door! Is probably Paddy!’

  ‘How he know where you are?’

  ‘He is powerful man. Can find out these things. Goodbye, Bridie, goodbye.’

  Ran to door and swung it wide, having convinced myself that Paddy would be leaning against jamb. But not Paddy. Jake. Tangle-haired, tanned, silvery-eyed, large-lipped.

  Disappointment crushing. Stared and stared, unable to believe it was wrong man.

  ‘I come in?’ he asked in croaky voice.

  He sat on couch, hands hanging between his knees, looking abject as can be. ‘Have you had chance to think about us getting back together?’

  Looked at him and thought, Oh cripes.

  Had gone off him anyway, with his request for ‘space’ and his indignation that I hadn’t stalked him, but now that feelings for Paddy had revived, all residue of lust for Jake had dissolved like footprints in sand.

  Horrors – no longer thought he was most good-looking man on planet earth. Actually thought he looked – terrible thing to say about another human being – slightly deformed. That mouth. Not sexy. No. Instead looked like lip augmentation procedure had gone wrong. Too much puffing and pouting, as though stung by wasp on bottom lip.

  Simultaneously discovered had gone off his odour. Previous to this had enjoyed his natural unwashed smell, it had seemed authentic, unapologetic and, yes, manly. But now faint studenty miasma of unwashed socks hung around him like cloud.

  He pulled me to him and said, ‘Please, Lola,’ at same time as slipping his hand beneath the waistband of my pjyamas. Recoiled! Bum skin goosebumped with desire to be not manhandled by him, and prospect of multi-positioned sex no longer seemed remotely inviting.

  Jake pressed his erect boyo at me, through thin fabric of my pyjamas, and whispered, ‘See how much I want you.’

  Gak! Yes, gak! Even I was surprised it was that bad. He took my hand to rub against his mickey, but I stepped away from him, freeing my bottom from shuddery revoltingness of his handfeel. His expression was one of great surprise. I looked into his silvery eyes and thought, What peculiar colour for eyes. What is wrong with brown or hazel?

  ‘You not want me to touch you, Lola?’ he asked.

  Saw the confused boy in the body of a man and had moment of cold realization. Knew had to be brutally honest with him. Otherwise would end up sleeping with him, out of kindness, and my skin and soul were curdling at such a scenario.

  ‘Jake,’ I said. ‘Am very sorry, but it’s a no go, you and me. Was fun but let’s just leave it at that.’

  ‘Admit have been stupid fucker,’ he said. ‘But have apologized and am willing to change.’

  ‘No need,’ I said. ‘Is pointless. There is someone else. Another man.’

  ‘You have met someone else already?’

  ‘No, no. Someone else all along.’

  ‘Thanks for telling me!’

  ‘But it was only bit of fun, you and me! That’s what you thought too!’

  ‘Yes, but didn’t realize was going to fall for you.’

  Exasperated. ‘Is hardly my fault.’

  ‘Very mature, Lola!’ He had turned sneery. ‘Very responsible.’

  ‘But if had fallen for you and you hadn’t fallen for me, you would tell me, It was just bit of fun, sorry you have fallen in love with me, now sling your hook.’ Was true. Had happened to me often enough with other men.

  Tired now. ‘Jake, look! Tide is in! You must go surfing.’

  He looked out window. Easily distractable, thank God. Like jingling a lead at a dog and shouting, Walkies, walkies!

  ‘Okay, am going,’ he said. ‘But you will change your mind.’

  ‘Won’t.’ Tried to sound kindly. ‘Swear to you I won’t.’

  Once got rid of Jake, returned to phone vigil. At 10 a.m. on the button, phone rang. But still not Paddy! This time Treese, sounding grim.

  ‘Heard about your late-night phone call from de Courcy. Listen to me, Lola.’ Tone low and angry. ‘You make sure you get back with that surf boy.’

  ‘Too late, Treese, have just shown him the door.’ Chirpy.

  She moaned with – it sounded like – despair. ‘Paddy de Courcy ruins everything for you.’

  ‘What he ruin?’ Was actually curious.

  ‘Apart from your career and your sanity? He almost ruined your friendship with me, Bridie and Jem.’

  ‘… What?… How?’ Frightened. Where did this come from?

  Treese sighed. ‘We never saw you. You stopped coming out with us. You were always with him. Or – worse – waiting for him.’

  Oh yes, this was familiar. Had heard it before. ‘Yes, but, Treese –’

  ‘I know, Lola, yes, know he worked long, unpredictable hours. If I had latrine for every time you told me that, every home in Malawi would have full sanitation. But he didn’t see you every night, did he?’

  ‘… Not every single one.’

  ‘But you made yourself available every night for him?’

  Uncomfortably I said, ‘You know what it’s like when you’re in love.’

  ‘Yes. Do.’ She meant Vincent (gak). ‘And I still see my friends.’

  ‘But Treese, Paddy is politician. Session in Dail can go on very late. No idea when will end.’

  ‘All more reason for you to make own arrangements for nights when he can’t commit.’

  ‘No, all more reason to be ready to see him at end of his long, stressful day.’

  ‘You’ve been brainwashed.’

  Stunned by her harshness. Frankly stunned. Said as much.

  ‘Lola, we’ve been so worried about you. Getting free of him is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’

  Shaken after hostile call from Treese. Returned to gazing at phone, urging it to ring.

  Morning elapsed without call from Paddy. Of course Jem rang.

  ‘Bringing up the rear,’ he said. ‘Urging you, at Bridie’s behest, to have sense.’

  At 1.17, wondered if had misunderstood arrangement with Paddy. Perhaps we had agreed that I was to ring him, not him ring me. (Of course, knew the truth. Am not stupid. Merely delusional.) Tried his mobile, landline, office line.

  Voicemail, voicemail, voicemail.

  And all feeling horribly familiar.

  Paddy didn’t call that day. Or the next day. Or the next day. Or the next day. I gave up trying to contact him.

  Admitted unpalatable truth to self. Bridie had been right. It had been a booty call. Tried but couldn’t reachieve that magic state which had facilitated call in first place – Paddy would ring me only if I didn’t care about him. But as long as I wanted him to ring, it meant I cared about him, therefore he would not call. Universe can be perplexing.

  Yes, eventually did succumb to strong doses of vitamin B – dispatched Boss to Ennistymon with detailed list. Not that said vitamins did any good. Still leapt like scalded cat each and every time the phone chirruped.

  Other interesting behaviour from universe – as though seeking to demonstrate how unattractive unrequited love was, Jake became obsessed with winning me back. He kept showing up at the house, urging that we should ‘try again.’

  ‘But Jake, this is crazy,’ I kept saying. ‘You weren’t even that into me.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Am not even your type.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Am not as good-looking as your other girlfriends.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Or as good in bed.’ (Had taken guess on this.)

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So why you want me?’

  ‘Because I do.’

  He made charming picture of good-looking anguish, but my heart was cold as stone in my chest. Jake was spoilt, immature, had always had life too easy and wanted me only because couldn’t have me.

  Good for him, bit of disappointment. Character-forming. I mean, look at me, charac
ter very formed.

  I pitied him. But was 100 per cent certain that if I suddenly exclaimed, ‘Right you are, Jake, you’ve persuaded me! Let’s be boyfriend and girlfriend again and be mad about each other and have sex all night long and buy a nice lamp and feed each other with our fingers,’ we would have three happy days before he would turn moody on me and let himself be coaxed into admitting, ‘It’s just not right, Lola.’

  Do not relish causing him pain. But if it’s a choice between him and me, am afraid that the surf boy gets it.

  Thursday, 11 December 23.04

  Return from trip down memory lane

  Phone still ringing.

  SarahJane Hutchinson. Why she calling so late?

  ‘Great news, Lola! Have scored major coup. Zara Kaletsky will be keynote speaker at my charity. Know what you’re thinking, Lola, you’re thinking, Zara Kaletsky is nobody.’

  Correct. Zara extremely nice girl but, in celebrity terms, could not get arrested.

  ‘Have inside-track knowledge. Zara Kaletsky just been cast in new Spielberg blockbuster. Starring role. Jermond’– SarahJane’s new beau –‘involved in the financing. I have Zara on board before movie press release even been issued. Just been speaking with her in LA. She is hot, hot, hot and she is mine, mine, mine. All those other bitches will have to bow down before me!’

  Was glad. Glad for SarahJane. Also very glad for Zara.

  ‘She live in LA now? Thought she moved to South Africa?’

  ‘Oh God, no! Bel Air, Bel Air! Need you to fabulize us both for the lunch. Need something extra special. Only ten weeks away. Put your thinking cap on!’

  Friday, 12 December 7.04

  Awoken by frenzied banging on front door. Incorporated it into my dream for as long as possible, then gave in and got up. Who was calling at this early hour?

  Probably Jake to tell me how much he loves me. Usually is. Is bloody ridiculous. Is 7 a.m. Pounded down stairs and wrenched door open.

  Yes, Jake standing there, exuding wild defiance. Time was when I would have been stunned by his beauty. Now all could think was, I wish he would

  a) put bag of frozen peas on his lips to stop the swelling