He's Got to Go

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  The weirdoes in Ireland weren’t as weird (although there’d been a brief fling with Marcus who kept pet snakes). In reality, she hadn’t found time to fall for anyone in the last few months. The job at the garage, as well as the occasional nixers that she did, took up a lot of her time and she was quite happy to revert to meeting men simply as friends rather than as potential soul mates.

  But now, looking at Steve sleeping on her bed, she wondered whether or not she should think of finding someone for herself. Not a weirdo, not a friend, just an ordinary sort of boyfriend. Someone who’d stick around long enough for her to buy them a birthday present or a Christmas present. Someone she could share things with.

  She shuddered. She didn’t really want to be dependable and dull and someone’s girlfriend instead of someone’s best friend. Did she? Besides, she never fell for the sort of bloke who wanted a common-or-garden girlfriend. Maybe being best friends was a better option.

  She glanced at Steve again. She was, of course, currently Steve’s best friend. It was almost a cliché to be best friends with a gay man but she was. She’d met him shortly after she’d come back to Ireland and they’d hit it off immediately. He’d just finished a relationship with a bit of a weirdo too. So they’d exchanged weird bloke stories while buying each other drinks and before she knew where she was they’d become friends.

  Bree liked Steve and enjoyed being with him. But he’d fallen for an out-of-work actor a few weeks earlier, had a brief but passionate affair with him and had phoned her earlier in the afternoon to tell her all about his broken heart.

  What is it about me, she wondered, that makes me great friend material but not good girlfriend material? Why am I so different to Nessa and to Cate when we’ve both got the same genes in our bodies? How is it that they’re so good with men while I’m not? Despite the fact that I try to pretend to them that I don’t give a stuff really, I have a horrible feeling that I’m getting slightly jealous.

  She shivered. This definitely wasn’t the way to think. She looked at her watch. It was late but she was too tired to figure out exactly what time it was. It was the lateness of the hour and the drink and the struggle of getting Steve back to the flat that was getting to her. She’d feel better in the morning. She knew that she should take off the little bit of makeup that she wore before getting into bed but she just couldn’t be bothered. She put her empty cup into the sink, flopped fully clothed on the bed beside Steve and almost immediately fell asleep.

  Cate stood in the shower and thought about what they’d say when she told them it was over. Nessa would be full of gushing sympathy while at the same time managing to let Cate know that Nessa herself had the most perfect relationship; Bree would shrug and tell her that she was better off without him; and Miriam would blame herself. Cate squirted moisturizing foam wash onto the white puff and squeezed it over her shoulders. Miriam would think that because she wasn’t around to look after her second daughter, Cate had managed to mess things up. Without Miriam’s steadying influence, Cate had allowed Finn to become the kind of bloke who didn’t arrive home until four in the morning, who drank himself into a stupor at the slightest opportunity, who treated her like a mere possession. The kind of bloke who’d rolled over in the bed when she’d got up and made herself some coffee and who hadn’t even bothered to respond when she poked her head around the door and asked him if he wanted any himself.

  He wasn’t interested in her any more, that much was painfully clear. And it hurt Cate more than she wanted to admit that his interest had waned from the moment he’d been offered the TV show. It was as though she was suddenly an unimportant part of his past, an inconvenience to be dealt with. She felt her tears mingle with the jet from the shower. She’d believed in the relationship, trusted him, allowed herself to care about him. And in the end she was left with the bitter feeling that she’d soon be looking for another apartment in the city and she’d be out there as a single thirtysomething all over again. She shook her head. She hadn’t even wanted to acknowledge how great it had been to be part of a couple, knowing that there was someone to share things with, knowing that she didn’t have to sleep alone at night.

  And I’m pathetic, she thought as she rubbed the puff over her body angrily, if I can only value myself in terms of not having to sleep alone at night. I’m a successful woman. I don’t need a man beside me to make me feel fulfilled. She wished she could believe what she was telling herself.

  The apartment was empty when she stepped out of the shower. Finn had been asleep—at least she’d thought he’d been asleep—when she went into the bathroom, but maybe he’d just been waiting for her to get out of the bed so that he could sneak out without having to talk to her. She felt the hot tears sting her eyes again and clenched her jaw. I will not let him make me cry, she told herself as she wrapped the snow-white bath towel around her. I will not let him make me cry and I will be cool and poised and grown-up about everything. I’m thirty years old, for God’s sake. Thirty-year-olds don’t need to cry over mere men.

  She pulled on a pale pink T-shirt and a faded pair of jeans. She sat on the couch in the sun-washed living room and stared out at the languid movement of the sea. It was strange to feel as though everything was over when they hadn’t even talked about it yet. But she knew that they would. Finn had never walked out of the apartment without even saying goodbye before. Doing it this morning had changed their relationship forever.

  Her stomach rumbled. She was hungry but she didn’t feel as though she could eat anything. Why was it that falling in love and falling out of love had the exact same effect? When she’d first gone out with him she’d been so enraptured by him that she hadn’t been able to eat a thing even though he’d taken her to the Halo at the Morrison Hotel which was the ultimate in chic food and even décor. She massaged the back of her neck. Nessa would have a great time telling her that she’d told her so, reminding her that she should have married him while she had the chance.

  But I never had the chance, she told herself. He didn’t want commitment. Neither did I.

  She heard the door of the apartment click open and her heart fluttered. Remember, she told herself, no tears. Just be cool.

  “Anyone home?”

  She saw the flowers before she saw him, an enormous bunch of deep red roses, far too many to fill the two John Rocha vases that they had.

  “Finn?”

  “Who were you expecting?” He lowered the massive bouquet until she could see the glint of his blue eyes.

  “Nobody.” She stood up. “What’s all this?”

  “This,” said Finn as he thrust the flowers at her, “is my way of saying that I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?”

  “For being such a shit,” he told her. “And I have been a shit this last while, haven’t I? Since I got the TV program. Since before then. Since I started to talk to them about it.”

  Cate bit her bottom lip. “I guess.”

  “You were meant to say that I wasn’t.” Finn grinned at her. “So that I could actually feel quite good about myself! You were meant to say that you hadn’t noticed I was behaving like a total asshole.”

  “Well…” She grimaced and blinked to hold back the tears.

  “But I know I have,” he said. “I should’ve told you about it before, Cate. I should have talked to you when they first approached me. But I was afraid to count my chickens before they’d hatched. Afraid it mightn’t come to anything after all and I’d end up looking stupid.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “You don’t,” said Finn. “Not really. It’s my dream, Cate. You know that. And it was so close to coming true. I thought that saying it out loud might break the spell.”

  “You sound like Nessa,” she told him.

  He laughed. “I’m Aquarius,” he said. “According to your sister I’m supposed to be objective and unemotional—”

  “Maybe that’s why they’ve picked you for the chat show,” said Cate.

  “Well, a lot of the
time I know I am objective and unemotional,” he told her. “But I shouldn’t let my head rule my heart all the time.”

  “And do you?”

  “I think so.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “It does.” Finn stepped closer to her and took the flowers away from her. He placed them carefully on the floor, allowing a small puddle of water to form on the polished wood. “I should’ve shared it with you, Cate. The good or the bad part. I felt terrible about not saying anything but the longer I didn’t, the harder it got. Then when it happened I was just so relieved I blurted it out on the phone! I should’ve told you properly, face to face. But I couldn’t seem to connect with you about it the way I expected and I thought that maybe you weren’t very happy about it.”

  “I was surprised,” she told him. “I was hurt that you didn’t tell me sooner.”

  “I know,” he said. “Although it took me a while to work it out—maybe I won’t be such a hot-shot chat show host if I can’t work things like that out myself.”

  “Maybe you won’t,” she said.

  “But the thing is,” he said urgently, “whether it works or not, whether this time next year I have another show or not, the important thing is that you’re with me.”

  She stared at him.

  “I love you,” he told her. “I’ve loved you for ages. I can’t say since the day we met because that day I just lusted after you. But then I loved you.”

  She smiled.

  “And I’ll keep on loving you, Cate. No matter what.”

  “Will you?”

  “Success means nothing unless you’ve got someone to share it with.”

  “You think?”

  “Of course,” he said passionately. “It’s one of the topics on my show. The fact that people really do price happiness and love ahead of everything else.”

  “Ahead of a Mercedes Benz Kompressor?” She named his favorite car.

  “Miles ahead.”

  “Ahead of an around-the-world holiday?” He’d always wanted to do that.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Ahead of—”

  “Ahead of everything,” he told her firmly.

  She looked into his eyes, an even deeper blue than the sea outside, and then she touched him gently on the side of the cheek.

  “Marry me,” she said.

  The words had come out before the thought had properly formed in her head, words that she thought—hoped—that one day she might hear but never that she would actually say herself.

  He grinned at her. “That’s my Cate.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s what I love about you. You want something, you ask.”

  “I was joking,” she told him hastily.

  “Really?”

  “Sort of.” She didn’t know how to act now. She’d asked him to marry her, a really naff, so unfeminist type of thing to do. A few minutes ago she’d been telling herself that she didn’t need commitment for God’s sake! They’d been happy living together without that tie, it was totally unnecessary now. But she’d been feeling vulnerable because of his sudden career change and his unexpected behavior and she’d allowed Nessa’s warnings to take root inside her head. And she’d had a horrible feeling that, despite all his talk about how much he loved her, he’d never pop the question himself.

  “Do you want to get married?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s not essential.”

  “Do you love me?”

  She rested her head on his broad shoulder. Of course she loved him. She’d always loved him. Half of Ireland loved him. It was bloody hard not to love him.

  “I guess I do,” she told him.

  “Getting married would be fun,” he said.

  “It’s not supposed to be fun!”

  He laughed at the tone of her voice.

  “You know what I meant,” she said.

  “I suppose I could do a show on marriage,” he mused. “Get people who’ve been together for years as well as some newlyweds…”

  She raised her head and looked at him doubtfully.

  “I’d love to marry you, Catey,” he told her. “It’s time we got married. Really it is.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder again.

  “Only don’t let’s do the Nessa thing just yet.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You know. The suburban house. The pink curtains. The screaming child…”

  “Don’t worry,” said Cate. “I’m nothing like Nessa.”

  “I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re much, much sexier.”

  7

  Sun in Aries, Moon in Capricorn

  Rise to the task with courage, enthusiasm and commitment.

  Red suited her, thought Cate, as she surveyed herself in the long mirror. Red brought out the color in her cheeks and the darkness of her hair and made her look altogether more healthy and vibrant than she’d done in ages. She should go with it more often instead of the blacks and navys that she so often wore. And the latest Dior skin-smoothing foundation she’d bought yesterday looked great too. It was supposed to have a lifting and firming action and she felt lifted and firmed. She daubed some iridescent Terra Bella on her cheeks to increase the healthy glow effect and then pushed her fingers through her hair again. She did that mainly so that she could see the sparkle of the diamond on her engagement finger as the light from the bedroom window caught it. She felt very silly at exulting in her ring, very unprofessional woman, but she couldn’t help it. It was a real cracker of a ring.

  They’d bought it together from a jeweler in the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre and it had been specially made for her. Finn wouldn’t even let her look at the prices, he insisted that she choose something that she really wanted. Part of her had wanted to be understated and elegant but another part, a part that she didn’t even know existed, wanted glitz and glamor. Glitz and glamor won out in the end and now she found it almost impossible not to wave her left hand around at the slightest excuse.

  “Aren’t you ready yet?” Finn burst into the room and Cate put her hands down by her side as nonchalantly as she could.

  “Yes,” she told him.

  “Red suits you,” he told her.

  “I know.” She smiled. “I was just thinking that myself.”

  He leaned his head to one side and looked at her critically. “You know what else suits you?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve put on a bit of weight.”

  “D’you think so?” Her voice was anxious. “I thought the zip was a bit tighter than usual.”

  “Yes, but it’s fine,” he assured her. “You were getting awfully skinny, Cate.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You were! Even Bree noticed it the night we went to Nessa’s house.”

  “She called me a Biro.” Cate grimaced. “Bitch.”

  Finn laughed. “She’s outspoken, is Bree.”

  “She’s an idiot.” Cate opened the wardrobe and took out her light tan shoes. “She doesn’t give a toss about her job or her life or where she’s going.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Finn. “Just because she has different priorities to you.”

  “She has loads of potential,” Cate said. “She was really brilliant at math and science at school. She could’ve done anything.”

  “But what’s wrong with what she’s doing now?” asked Finn. “She’s good at it—and it’s very handy to have a mechanic in the family.”

  “Maybe.” Cate smiled. “Especially if you’re Adam Riley.”

  “Oh, Adam.” Finn shook his head. “I’ve never met anyone with as rotten a sense of space as Adam.”

  “If it wasn’t for Bree, Nessa and Adam would probably have a lot more rows in that marriage,” declared Cate. “She’s saved them a fortune in car repairs.” She looked at her watch and shrieked. “God, you’re right! I’m really late. They’ll have my guts for garters!”

  “I’ll get you in on time,” Finn told her. “
Don’t panic.”

  “I’m not panicking.” Cate picked up her bag and hurried out of the room. Then she turned and went back again for her keys.

  “You always panic when you meet your sisters,” said Finn in amusement. “You’d think you’d be relaxed about it but you’re not.”

  “It’s just…” Cate tucked an imaginary hair behind her ear and looked at her fiancé. “I’m the one in the middle, Finn. Nessa’s always been the one that tells me what to do and Bree has always been the one who I had to look after and sometimes I feel as though I don’t know who I’m supposed to be with them.”

  “Corny as this sounds, how about being yourself?” suggested Finn.

  Cate giggled. “You learning all that for the TV show?”

  “Come on.” Finn put his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go throw you to the wolves.”

  Nessa and Bree were already sitting in Il Vignardo’s. Cate had chosen it, she enjoyed the atmosphere of the cellar-like restaurant with its low ceiling covered in sculpted vine leaves and attentive, friendly waiters. Nessa, as always, had arrived a little early but Bree was almost exactly on time. They ordered a bottle of red wine and waited for Cate to arrive.

  “I don’t know why she’s always late,” said Bree. “You’d think that with that job of hers she’d be one of those people who measured out their time to the second.”

  “You’re one to talk.” Nessa leaned back in the chair. “You’re never on time for anything. I didn’t think you’d be here before her.”

  “You expect me to be late,” said Bree. “The scatty younger sister.”

  “You’re not scatty,” Nessa said.

  “But you expect me to be,” repeated Bree. “You used to say that all the time, Nessa.”