Love, Rosie

by Cecelia Ahern

  Rosie: Good idea! He’s online now so I’ll ask.

  Ruby: It’s not that bloody important but any old excuse to talk to him I suppose. I’ll hold on here and try to make myself look busy while you ask.

  You have an instant message from: ROSIE

  Rosie: Hi Alex.

  Alex: Hi there, do you ever do any work? Every time I log on you’re on too!

  Rosie: I’m just chatting to Ruby. It’s cheaper this way. We don’t have to answer questions at work about the telephone bill. An Internet bill is more accepted and typing makes us look like we’re busy. Anyway I just wanted to ask you a quick question.

  Alex: Fire ahead.

  Rosie: Remember on my 16th birthday, I fell and hit my head bla bla bla.

  Alex: Ha ha how could I forget? Are you thinking of this because Katie’s birthday is coming up? Because if she’s anything like you, you should be afraid, be very, very afraid. What should I get for her anyway, a sick bucket?

  Rosie: Age is only a number, not a state of mind or a reason for any type of particular behavior.

  Alex: O . . . K then. What’s your question?

  Rosie: How on earth did I fall and hit my head on the floor while I was sitting down?

  Alex: Oh my lord. The question. The Question. The Question.

  Rosie: What’s wrong with my question??

  Alex: Rosie Dunne I have been waiting 20 years for you to ask me that question and I thought you never would.

  Rosie: What??

  Alex: Why you never asked is beyond me but you woke up the next day and claimed to have no knowledge of what had happened. I didn’t want to bring it up; you had brought enough up the night before! Ha ha.

  Rosie: You didn’t want to bring what up?! Alex tell me! How did I fall off my stool??

  Alex: I don’t think you’re ready to no.

  Rosie: Oh shut up. I’m Rosie Dunne after all; I was born to be ready for anything.

  Alex: OK then, if you’re so sure of yourself . . .

  Rosie: I am! Now tell me!

  Alex: We were kissing.

  Rosie: We were what??

  Alex: Yep. You were leaning across on your high stool, kissing me; the stool was very wobbly and lodged unsafely between the cracks of a very old uneven tiled pub floor. And you fell.

  Rosie: WHAT??

  Alex: Oh the sweet nothings you whispered into my ear that night, Rosie Dunne. And I was gutted the next day when you woke up and forgot. After me holding your hand while you puked all night.

  Rosie: Alex!

  Alex: What?

  Rosie: Why didn’t you tell me?!

  Alex: Because we weren’t allowed to see each other and I didn’t want to tell you in a note. And then you said you wanted to forget everything that had happened that night so I thought that maybe you vaguely remembered and you just regretted it.

  Rosie: You should have told me.

  Alex: Why, what would you have said?

  Rosie: Em . . . that’s really putting me on the spot Alex.

  Alex: Yeah sorry.

  Rosie: I can’t believe it. Because I fell, we got caught and I had to stay home for a week while your punishment was to start work in your dad’s office, where you met Bethany. The girl you said you were going to marry . . .

  Alex: That’s right I said that!

  Rosie: Yeah you did . . .

  Alex: Well I actually said that just to test you but as you didn’t seem to care too much I went out with her anyway. That’s funny. I had forgotten I had said that! Bethany would love to hear that! Thanks for reminding me.

  Rosie: No no, thank you for reminding me . . .

  You have an instant message from: RUBY

  Ruby: Come on Ms. Bumps, I need to look like I’m busy here. You find out what happened yet?

  Rosie: Yes I found out I’m the biggest idiot in the whole entire world.

  Ruby: I waited around for that. I could have told you that, ages ago.

  DEAR KATIE,

  FOR MY DAUGHTER,

  HAPPY SWEET SIXTEENTH!

  LOVE, MUM XXX

  FOR OUR GRANDDAUGHTER,

  HAPPY SWEET SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY!

  TO KATIE, LOTS OF LOVE,

  GRANDMA & GRANDDAD

  FOR MY GIRLFRIEND,

  HAPPY SWEET 16!

  LOTS OF LOVE,

  JOHN

  TO KATIE,

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU PAIN IN THE ASS, ANOTHER FEW MONTHS AND THOSE BRACES WILL BE OFF. THEN I WON’T BE ABLE TO TELL WHAT YOU’VE EATEN FOR DINNER.

  TOBY

  FOR MY DAUGHTER,

  CONGRATULATIONS KATIE, HAPPY SWEET SIXTEEN!

  I HOPE JOHN DOESN’T TRY TO KISS YOU!

  LOVE, DAD

  Dear Mum and Dad,

  I’m never speaking to Rupert again. Sweet sixteen my arse.

  Katie demanded that I give her the money that I would have spent on her present, so that she could go into town and pick her own clothes, which suited me fine because then I didn’t have to bother spending sleepless nights trying to think of the “perfect” gift that she would inevitably hate and hide under her bed. Anyway she walked into the flat, hand in hand with the big friendly giant (John), beaming from ear to ear so I immediately knew something suspicious was going on. She lifted her top, lowered her trousers an inch, and there it was.

  The tattoo from hell.

  An awful-dirty-disgusting-very ugly-I’ve-just-realized-I’m-beginning-to-sound-like-you-mother kind of tattoo. It sat there on her hip bone sticking its tongue out at me.

  Mum, it’s ugly. Mind you it was bleeding and beginning to grow a scab by the time I saw it. Apparently Rupert said his clients only needed to be sixteen to get a tattoo which I strongly disagree with so I came downstairs to check the Internet. It turns out he’s right but if I could just find some sort of loophole that would allow me to kick his ass.

  Cute Internet café guy asked me if I was OK and he looked really concerned, which I thought was possibly the beginning of something new for the both of us. But then I realized I was thumping the keyboard with my fists so he was probably only concerned about his computer. I don’t know about you but I have no time for selfish men like that in my life so I’ve decided there’s no chance of a steamy love affair occurring between us after hours on the computer desks. Purely my decision though.

  What makes it even worse is that I was trying to study for my final exams and the drilling coming from the tattoo parlor downstairs was really distracting me. What I didn’t realize was that I was listening to the mutilation of my own daughter’s body.

  It was kind of difficult giving Rupert a piece of my mind because I couldn’t express my hatred of tattoos without offending him seeing as he is an actual walking tattoo. It would be like slagging one of his family members.

  The tattoo is the least of my worries. She also got her tongue pierced. Rupert threw that part in for free. She sounds like she’s got hot potatoes in her mouth when she speaks. So no wonder I got such a shock when she walked in with a scary look on her face and said, “Aah, uck at I aa-oo,” and then proceeded to lift up her top. John got one as well but he got a tattoo of a Hurley stick and a hurling ball on his hip bone. You don’t even want to know what that picture resembles. Rupert drilled the ball too close and on the wrong end of the stick if you know what I mean.

  I suppose it could be worse, they could have gotten tattooed with each other’s names. And there are worse tattoos Katie could get than a tiny little strawberry the size of my thumbnail.

  Perhaps I’m overreacting?

  How on earth must you and Dad have felt when I told you I was pregnant?

  Now that I think of it perhaps I should give Katie some sort of award?

  Anyway I should go back upstairs and face the (very loud, banging) music, plus I need to continue with my studies. I can’t believe I’ve reached my final year. Three years flew by and while it was virtually impossible studying by night, working by day and trying to be a mother at both those times I’m glad I did
n’t pack it in the hundred times a day that I said I would. Imagine, I’ll have a graduation ceremony! You and Dad will finally be able to sit in the crowd while I collect my degree in my unflattering robe and hat. It’s only fifteen years later than originally planned, but I suppose it’s better late than never.

  However I won’t get to the graduation ceremony if I don’t pass my exams so, no more distractions, I am going to study!

  Love,

  Rosie

  FROM:Rosie

  TO:Alex

  SUBJECT:Dad

  Something awful has happened. People at work said you were in surgery but please as soon as you get my messages and this e-mail can you ring me?

  Mum called me just a minute ago in tears; Dad has had a massive heart attack and has been rushed to hospital. She’s in huge shock but she told me not to travel over to her because my first exam is starting tomorrow. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how serious it is, the doctors won’t tell us anything yet. Can you maybe ring the hospital and see what’s going on, you understand all that stuff. I don’t know what to do. Please get this e-mail on time, I don’t know who else to call.

  I don’t want to leave Mum on her own, although Kevin is going over to her now. I don’t want Dad to be alone either. Oh this is so confusing.

  Oh god Alex, please help. I don’t want to lose my dad.

  FROM:Alex

  TO:Rosie

  SUBJECT:Re: Dad

  I tried calling you but you must be on the phone. Just stay calm. I rang the hospital and had a word with Dr. Flannery in the hospital, he’s the doctor looking after your dad and he explained Dennis’s condition to me.

  What I suggest you do is pack a bag for a few days and get on the earliest bus you can to Galway. Do you understand what I mean?

  Forget about your exam, this is more important. Keep calm, Rosie, and just be there for your mum and dad. Tell Stephanie to come home too if she can. Keep in touch with me during the night.

  CHAPTER 43

  Alex, he’s gone. I can’t believe he’s gone.

  Oh Rosie, I’m so sorry for you.

  I’ll book a flight today and I’ll be in Ireland at the weekend.

  Dear Alex,

  Coffin sizes can be no wider than 76cm; can be made of chipboard with approved veneers and plastics for cremation purposes. Did you know that? Ferrous screws are acceptable in small numbers and wood braces will give extra strength but must only be placed in the inside of the coffin.

  The coffin must have the full name of the deceased on the lid. Wouldn’t want to get anyone mixed up I suppose. The thing that I really wished I hadn’t learned was that the coffin should be lined with a substance known as “Cremfilm,” or use absorbent cloth or cotton padding because apparently fluid can leak from a body.

  I didn’t know any of this.

  There were forms. Lots and lots of forms. Form A, B, C, F, and all the medical forms. No one mentioned anything about D and E. I didn’t know you needed so much proof to show you were dead, I thought the fact you’ve stopped living and breathing was a huge giveaway. Apparently not.

  I suppose it’s like going away to live in another country. Dad just had to get his papers ready, get dressed in his Sunday best, arrange his mode of transport, and off he went to his final destination, wherever that may be. Oh, how much Mum would have loved to have gone on this particular trip with him, but she knows she can’t.

  She just kept repeating to everyone at the funeral, “He just didn’t wake up, I called him and called him, but he wouldn’t wake up.” She hasn’t stopped shaking since it’s happened and she looks like she’s aged twenty years. Although she looks older, she seems younger. Like a lost little child who looks around her and doesn’t know where to go, like suddenly she’s in a whole new place and she doesn’t know the way.

  I suppose she is. I suppose we all are.

  I’ve never been here before. I’m thirty-six years old and I’ve never lost anyone close to me. I’ve been to ten funerals in my life and they were of distant relatives, friends of friends and family of friends whom my life is none the worse off without.

  But Dad going? God, that’s a big one.

  He was only sixty-six years old. Not old at all. And he was healthy. What causes a healthy sixty-six-year-old man to fall asleep and never wake up? I can only comfort myself with thoughts that he saw something so beautiful that he just had to go. That’s the kind of thing Dad would do.

  There’s something completely unnerving about seeing your parents upset. I suppose it’s because they’re supposed to be the strong ones, but that’s not just it. Ever since people are kids they use their parents as some sort of measurement for how bad a situation is. When you fall on the ground really hard and you can’t figure out whether it hurts or not you look to your parents. If they look worried and rush toward you, you cry. If they laugh and smack the ground saying “Bold ground,” then you pick yourself up and get on with it.

  When you find out you’re pregnant and feel numb of all emotions you look at their expressions. When both your mum and dad hug you and tell you it’s going to be OK and that they’ll support you, you know it’s not the end of the world. But depending on the parents, it could have been pretty damn close.

  Parents are the barometers of emotions for children and it has a domino effect. I had never seen my mum cry so much in all of my life which scared me and made me cry which scared Katie and made her cry. We all cried together.

  As for Dad, he was supposed to live forever. The one who could open all the jar lids nobody else could, who fixed whatever was broken, was supposed to do that forever. The man who let me sit on his shoulders, climb on his back, chase me around while making monster noises, throw me in the air and catch me, spin me around so much until I felt dizzy and fell over laughing.

  And in the end without being able to say thank you and a proper good-bye, my final memories of him turn into coffin sizes and medical forms.

  I’m still over in Galway with Mum. In the wild, wild West. But it’s a beautiful summer and it doesn’t feel quite right. The atmosphere doesn’t suit the mood, there’s the sound of children’s laughter floating up from the beach down below, there are birds singing and dancing around the sky, swooping low and catching their fresh meals from the sea. It doesn’t feel right to love the world and see such brightness when something so awful has happened.

  It’s like hearing gurgling babies echoing in the church at the funeral. There’s nothing more uplifting than to hear the sound of an innocent child being so happy in a place that people are sad. It reminds you that life goes on and on and on, just not for the one you’re saying good-bye to. People come and people go and we know this happens, yet we get such a shock when it does. To use that old cliché, the only certainty in life is death. It’s a certainty, it’s the one condition of living that we’re given but we often let it tear us apart.

  I don’t know what to do or say to Mum to make her feel better; I don’t suppose there really is anything that would accomplish that but watching her crying to herself all day tears me apart. I can hear her pain in her tears. Maybe she’ll just run out of tears.

  Alex you’re a heart doctor. You know the heart literally inside and out, what is there you can do when someone’s heart has broken? Have you any cures for that?

  Thanks for coming over to the funeral, it was so good to see you. It was just a shame that it was under these circumstances. It was good of your parents to come too, Mum really did appreciate it. Thanks for getting rid of what’s-his-name too; I really wasn’t in the mood to have any discussions with him at the church. It was good of him to come but if Dad had seen him he would have leaped out of that coffin and thrown what’s-his-name in his place instead.

  Stephanie and Kevin headed home a few days ago but I’m going to stay on for a little while longer. I just can’t leave Mum alone. The neighbors are being so good to her I know she will be in good hands when I do finally leave. I’ve missed all my exams and by the sound
s of things I’ll have to repeat the entire final year if I do want to complete the course. I don’t think I could be bothered doing it all over again.

  Anyway I’ll have to go home in a few days as no doubt the bills have been piling up in my post box since the day I left. I really need to get back before they cut everything off and evict me.

  Thanks for being there for me once again Alex, but it’s so typical of us for a tragedy to finally get us together.

  Love,

  Rosie

  FROM:Rosie

  TO:Alex

  SUBJECT:Dad

  I just returned home from Connemara to be greeted by an overflowing mailbox. Among a pile of bills was the following letter. It was posted the day before Dad died.

  Dear Rosie,

  Your mum and I are still laughing from your last letter about Katie’s tattoo. I do love it when you write to us! I hope you’re over the trauma of your daughter becoming a fully fledged teen. I remember the day that happened with you, I think it hit you before Stephanie! You were always eager to try new things and go new places, my fearless Rosie. I thought that when you finished school you were going to set off around the world and we would never see you again. I’m glad that didn’t happen. You were always a delight to have around the house. You and Katie. I’m only sorry we had to leave you when you needed us both. Your mum and I questioned our actions time and time again. I hope we did the right thing.

  I know you always felt that you were in the way or that you were letting us down, but that’s far from the truth, it just meant that I got to see my little girl grow. Grow from being a baby to an adult and grow as a mother. You and Katie are a great team and she is a fine example of the good parenting she received. A bit of ink on her skin doesn’t tarnish the goodness or dim the brightness that shines from her. A tribute to her mother.

  Life deals each of us a different set of cards and out of all of us there’s no doubt that you received the toughest hand of all. But you shone through the tough times. You are a strong girl and you grew even stronger when that idiot of a man (what’s-his-name, your mother told me to say) let you down. You picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and started all over again, set up home with Katie, found yourself a new job, provided for your daughter, and did your dad proud once more.