by Marian Keyes
Maybe Adam was sent to me for a reason, I thought. Adam made me feel so good about myself, Adam restored my confidence so much, that it probably gave me the strength to stand up to James. Maybe Adam’s judgmental speech was even instrumental in helping me to make the right decision about James.
It would have been nice to think that Kate and I helped Adam to deal with the pain of being separated from his child and his girlfriend. Maybe we’d helped him to realize how important they were to him, depending on whether he had left them or whether they had left him.
It was so lovely to feel the bitterness leave me. I began to feel happy that I had met Adam. I felt that Adam and I had met for a short time for a special reason. It had to be short lived. And I liked to think that both of us benefited from it.
This might well be a load of mystical, superstitious nonsense. But I wasn’t normally the kind of person who sees signs and portents and reasons and explanations in events. On the contrary. As I said earlier, I was always making fun of people who claimed that everything happens for a reason.
Of course, I wasn’t as unkind as Helen, but at the same time I was far from indulgent. Oh, existentialism, thy name is Claire.
My usual approach would have been to say something like “Adam and I had sex because we both were horny. Nothing else to it.” But I just couldn’t be so cynical, hard as I tried.
Very worrying, of course, but what was I to do?
But it meant that lying out in the back garden was a lot more pleasant now. Every time I thought of Adam I didn’t feel as if a knife had been twisted in my gut. Some kind of peace stole over me. I didn’t need to feel let down, or lied to, or humiliated or foolish. It had been a pleasure to know him for the short time that I had. Perhaps it was better that way.
You know what it’s like. Sometimes, you meet a wonderful person, but it’s only for a brief instant. Maybe on vacation or on a train or maybe even in a bus line. And they touch your life for a moment, but in a special way. And instead of mourning because they can’t be with you for longer, or because you don’t get the chance to know them better, isn’t it better to be glad that you met them at all?
There was a very discernible feeling that a chapter had ended in my life. I started preparing myself, both emotionally and sartorially, for the return to London.
I began to pack clothes. I gathered enthusiastically and spread my net widely, visiting all wardrobes in the house, especially Helen’s, and leaving no drawer unopened, no hanger unexamined.
Although I continued to bicker with everyone in the family, I knew that leaving them would be awful. It would be especially hard leaving my mother. Not just because she was so handy to have around Kate. No really, I mean it. I knew I was going to miss her terribly. It would be like leaving home all over again. Worse, in fact, because when I’d first left home seven years before, I was delighted to be going, couldn’t leave fast enough in my haste to capitalize on my imminent freedom.
It was different now. I was seven years older and wearier. I knew that there was no novelty in ironing my own clothes, paying my own bills.
But I had to go back to London.
After all, my job was there. And I hadn’t noticed anyone in Dublin breaking down my front door to offer me a job. Although I hadn’t applied for any jobs, to be fair.
But more importantly, Kate’s father was in London. I wanted her to see lots of him, to know that she had a father who loved her (well, I was sure he would when he got to know her better), and to grow up with a man in her life. Because if she was looking to me to provide her with a live-in father figure, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to oblige. Maybe I would meet another man someday, but I didn’t feel very hopeful.
And now that I thought of it, that threw up another entirely new set of worries. What if Kate didn’t like the new man?
What if she got all jealous and threw tantrums and ran away from home?
Oh God!
Well, I wasn’t going to worry about that yet. It was jumping the gun slightly when I already had my hands full worrying about never meeting a man again.
I didn’t mean it really. I wasn’t agonizing about never having a man again.
Just mildly concerned.
I decided that I’d go back to London on the fifteenth of July. I could move into my new apartment and give myself and Kate a couple of weeks to settle in and find a babysitter before I went back to work.
Then, in time-honored fashion, I discovered an entire new set of worries.
How would I take care of Kate when I was all on my own? I’d become very dependent on having my mother around to suggest reasons why Kate wouldn’t stop crying, or eating, or puking or whatever.
“You can always call me,” promised Mum.
“Thanks,” I said tearfully.
“And I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said.
“Really?” I asked pathetically. Even though I was nearly thirty I could still behave like a child when I was around my mother.
“Oh yes,” she said. “No one knows how strong they are until they have to be.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I admitted.
“I am,” she said firmly. “How about you? You haven’t managed too badly in spite of all you’ve been through.”
“I suppose,” I said doubtfully.
“Really,” she said. “Remember, if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.”
“Am I stronger?” I asked faintly, in my most childish voice.
“Jesus,” she said, “when you put on that voice, I do actually wonder.”
“Oh,” I said, annoyed. I wanted her to be nice to me and tell me that I was wonderful and could cope with anything.
“Claire,” she said, “there’s no point asking me if you’re stronger. You’re the one who knows that.”
“Well, I am then,” I said belligerently.
“Good.” She smiled. “And remember. You said it. Not me.”
The Wednesday before I was due to go back, Anna, Kate and I were out in the garden. The weather was still beautiful. Anna was, um, how can I put it, between jobs, so the pair of us had spent the last week lounging around the garden dressed in an assortment of bikini tops and cut-off shorts, trying to get a tan.
I was winning.
I tanned easily, and Anna didn’t. But then again, Anna was tiny and dainty and looked lovely in a bikini and I felt like a huge heifer beside her.
I wasn’t fat anymore. But she was so petite and delicate that she made me feel huge by comparison. I liked being tall. I just didn’t like feeling like an East German Olympic athlete.
So if I was winning in the tanning war, it was really only right and just.
When the genes were distributed she got the cute little body. I got the smooth, golden skin.
She got thin legs. I didn’t.
I got breasts. She didn’t.
Fair is fair.
Our attention was drawn to the kitchen window. Mum had lifted the curtain and was gesturing and knocking.
“What does she want?” said Anna sleepily.
“I think she’s saying hello,” I said, slowly raising my head from the lounger to look at her.
“Hello,” we both said languidly, and waved our arms limply. Mum continued to knock. The gestures that she made seemed to be a lot more frantic and vulgar.
“You go see what she wants,” I said to Anna.
“I can’t,” she said. “You go.”
“I’m too sleepy,” I said. “You’ll have to go.”
“No, you go,” she said, closing her eyes.
Mum came marching into the garden.
“Claire, phone!” she roared. “And the next time I knock on the window you’re to come in. I don’t do it for the good of my health, you know.”
“Sorry, Mum.”
“Keep an eye on Kate,” I told Anna as I ran into the house.
“Mmmmm,” she mumbled.
“And put some
more sunblock on her,” I shouted over my shoulder.
I stumbled into the kitchen, almost blinded by coming into the dim house after the blazing sunlight of the garden.
I picked up the phone. “Hello,” I said.
“Claire,” said James.
“Oh hello, James,” I said, wondering what the hell he wanted. If he hadn’t called to tell me that he’d sold our apartment, I didn’t want to talk to him.
“How are you, Claire?” he asked politely.
“Fine,” I said shortly, wishing he’d get on with it.
“Claire,” he said, with great weight, “I have something to tell you.”
“Well, go ahead,” I cordially invited.
“Claire, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve met someone else.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, what do you want me to say? Congratulations?”
“No,” he said. “There’s no need for that. But I thought I had better tell you, seeing as you made such a fuss the last time.”
With monumental self-control I didn’t hang up the phone.
“Thank you, James,” I managed. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go.”
“But don’t you want to know all about her?” he said quickly.
“No,” I said.
“Don’t you mind?” he asked anxiously.
“No.” I laughed.
“She’s lots younger than you,” he said nastily. “She’s only twenty-two.”
“That’s nice,” I said mildly.
“Her name’s Rita,” he said.
“Nice name,” I commented.
“She’s an actuary,” he said, sounding a bit desperate.
“How lovely,” I exclaimed. “You must have so much in common!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I protested.
“Why are you acting as if you don’t give a damn?” he thundered. “I’ve just told you I’ve got a new girlfriend!”
“I suppose I must be acting like I don’t give a damn because I actually don’t give a damn,” was the only thing I could come up with.
“Oh, and James,” I continued.
“Yes?” he said hopefully.
“Kate is fine,” I said. “I’m sure it’s just an oversight that you forgot to ask. Now I’m going. Great news! I’m delighted for you. Long may it last and all that. Good-bye.” I slammed the phone down.
How pathetic can you get? What did he expect me to do? Burst into tears and beg him to take me back? Hadn’t he learned anything?
I went back out to the garden. Anna had come to and was sitting up playing with Kate. She was so beautiful. Kate, that is. Although Anna was lovely too, no doubt about it. But Kate, she was more lovely. She had started to develop a little personality all of her own. When you spoke to her she made gurgly noises and laughed sometimes and made eye contact. It was almost like having a conversation with her.
Although she wasn’t doing too much laughing at that moment. Her fat little face was bright pink and shiny under her yellow sunhat and she looked as if she didn’t want to do any more sunbathing. “I’m hot and bored,” her look said. “And I’ve had quite enough of talking to this flake.”
“Who was it?” asked Anna.
“James,” I spat, barely able to say his name.
“What’s up with him?” asked Anna.
“He has a new girlfriend,” I said curtly.
“Do you mind?” she asked anxiously.
“Of course I don’t mind,” I said, outraged.
“So why are you acting so cross?” asked Anna.
“Because he disturbed my sunbathing—made me get up off the lounger and walk—just to tell me that. I can’t believe it! I really can’t. What an asshole.”
Never mind James. I was worried about Kate.
“You don’t think she’s burning, do you?” I asked Anna anxiously.
“Maybe I should have used a higher factor.”
“Maybe,” agreed Anna doubtfully, “but I don’t think they make a higher one.”
It was true. I had smothered Kate with a sunblock that had the highest protection factor known to man. Was I being an overprotective mother? I couldn’t help myself. I worried about her. I mean, after all, she was a baby and her skin was very delicate. I didn’t want to take any chances.
“I think I’ll bring her inside,” I said, “just to be on the safe side.”
“Relax,” advised Anna.
“No, I’d better take her in,” I said. “She might burn.”
“Oh, don’t go,” pleaded Anna. “I’ll have no one to talk to.”
Just then we heard voices in the kitchen. It sounded as if a small commotion had broken out.
“Helen’s home,” I said to Anna, “you can play with her.”
“Oh no,” groaned Anna. “She’ll be talking about killing herself if she fails and could she stomach having sex with Professor Macauley and asking me all these stupid questions about ancient Greece.
“I mean, what do I know about ancient Greece?” she asked, sounding wronged and very put out. “Just because I worked in a bar for six weeks in Santorini she thinks I should know about Zeus and all that crowd.”
She sighed and began to gather her things. “I think I’ll come in with you.”
But before she could make her escape, Helen burst into the garden. She was wearing a little denim skirt and a T-shirt. Her hair was wound up on top of her head and as usual she looked beautiful.
She stopped when she saw us and stared long and hard.
“Look at them,” she said bitterly. “Just look at them, the lucky bitches.”
“Hi, Helen,” said Anna warily.
“Lazy cows, just lying around doing nothing while I have to work my ass off studying,” she continued resentfully.
I shaded my eyes with my hand to look at Helen, at her furious little face. And it was only then that I realized that Helen was not alone.
She had brought a guest.
A male guest.
A tall, handsome male guest.
A gorgeous, blue-eyed, dark-haired, square-jawed, tall, handsome, male guest who was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt.
One who’d gotten a tan since I last saw him.
I hadn’t thought that he could get any better-looking, but it would appear that I was wrong.
The bastard!
“Hi, Adam,” I said, wanting to burst into tears.
“Hi, Claire,” he said politely.
I held my breath and waited for him to go back into the house. Then I realized, with horror, that he wasn’t going.
“Oh shit,” I thought frantically, “he’s coming over.”
Helen and Adam made their way over to the little oasis of chaise lounges, diet Coke, suntan lotion, women’s magazines and potato chips that Anna, Kate and I had created. Adam stood for a moment, and loomed over Anna and me, prostrate on the loungers. He didn’t seem too relaxed. His usual, easy charm was missing. He looked awkward, a bit unfriendly.
My heart pounded. I felt at such a terrible disadvantage. Jesus, why couldn’t Helen have given me some warning that she was bringing the beautiful Adam here. I could have put on some makeup and a nice bikini.
Because when I said earlier that I was lying around the garden wearing cut-off shorts and little tops, I wasn’t for a moment implying that I looked like one of those sexy babes from Baywatch. God no! The shorts were ancient and made from really nasty brushed denim and were cut in a really weird way. They were totally unflattering and made my butt look really wide.
And there was no Lycra left in my bikini top, so it was all droopy.
It was the romance novel versus real life syndrome all over again.
Whenever they’re caught unawares by their men they just happen to have gotten out of the shower and are covered in fragrant body lotion, their hair is in damp
little tendrils which escape from their towel and they look absolutely beautiful in a totally innocent and natural way.
Enough to make you puke.
But in real life you can put money on looking at your very, very worst when the man you like/love/fancy arrives unex- pectedly. Well, that’s always been my experience. You might be a bit luckier.
I wish he wouldn’t just stand there looking down at me, I thought nervously.
“Adam, you’re blocking out the sun,” I said, trying to make it sound like a joke. “Why don’t you sit down.” He sat down. It was quite amazing how a man so big and tall could make sitting down look so graceful. Sorry, I shouldn’t have noticed that. I certainly shouldn’t have remarked on it.
He smiled over at Anna.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi, Adam,” she simpered.
“How are you?” He sounded as if he was really interested.
“Never mind her! What about me?” I nearly shouted.
“I’m fine,” said Anna, smiling back shyly.
“Jesus,” muttered Helen, giving Anna a “you’re so pathetic” look.
Adam and Anna continued to murmur to each other.
Then Helen turned her attention to me.
“Get off that,” she ordered, trying to push me off the chair. “I’ve just taken an exam. I need to lie down.”
“That’s fine,” I said, getting up. “I was just going anyway.”
It was important for me to let her know that she hadn’t forced me into relinquishing my chair. That I was doing it of my own accord.
Power games.
I was so childish.
“Yes,” said Anna hastily, her face like a tomato. “I’m going too.”
“Why, where are you going?” demanded Helen.
“Inside,” I said.
“Oh great,” she said. She was really pissed off. “I’ve just taken an awful exam and I’ve got to learn the entire anthropology course this evening and you won’t even stay for five minutes to chat and help me unwind.”
“But Kate’s too hot,” I said.
“Go on then,” she said gloomily. “Go.”
She looked at Adam. “We’ll start in ten minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed.
“What’ll we do first?” she asked.
“What do you want to do?” he replied.