Hello, Heartbreak

by Amy Huberman

  ‘“What carry-on?” I asked, brushing dog hair off my black jumper dress.

  ‘“Give it a rest, will you?” he said, and started to walk off.

  ‘“No, what carry-on, Simon?” I said, like a dog with a bone, fittingly enough. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

  ‘He turned round. “Stop playing with me,” he said.

  ‘“Playing with you?”

  ‘“Yes, Keelin. All this carry-on where you patronize me by pretending to be interested in me, like it’s some sort of game, like I can’t see you’re using me just to get a reaction.”

  ‘I was completely shocked. But I wanted to grab him and hug him because he looked so embarrassed. He folded his arms and stared at the ground.

  ‘“I can’t believe you thought I was flirting with you as a joke! Or to be cruel! What kind of a horrible person must you think I am?”

  ‘“Oh, come off it. How would a girl like you ever fancy someone like me?”

  ‘I was dumbstruck, girls. I said, “Someone like you… what?”

  ‘“Someone who is the complete opposite of what you are. Keelin, you’re this stunning, stunning girl who’s crazy and funny and wild and outgoing. And I’m just… not. And I’m okay with that. But you are so way out of my league.”

  ‘He had absolutely no idea how gorgeous he was! “Simon, I fancy the pants off you,” I said to him. “And it’s not a joke. I can’t believe you thought that. You’ve been driving me crazy! First I wondered if you had a girlfriend. And then someone said you might be gay, but I said no way. So then I just assumed you weren’t interested in me.”

  ‘We stood there, staring at each other.

  ‘“So all this time,” he said softly, “I’ve been going out of my mind wanting to kiss you and I could have?”

  ‘“Anytime you’d wanted.”’

  I had goosebumps listening to her.

  ‘Go on, go on.’ Susie was hooked too.

  ‘Well, he pulled me to him, looked straight into my eyes, then leant in… and kissed me.’

  ‘Oh. My. God.’ I was mesmerized.

  Susie’s jaw was in her lap. ‘That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard,’ she said.

  ‘I know! Right?’ Keelin beamed.

  ‘I love it,’ I gushed. ‘It’s just so fantastic.’

  Aidan arrived, breaking up our tea party.

  ‘How are you, Aidan?’ Keelin asked him, through gritted teeth.

  ‘Good, yeah. Just been at home all morning practising my trade…’

  Drug-trafficking? I wanted to ask.

  ‘Gotta keep on top of the game, be at my physical peak. So I’ve taken up kick-boxing and I’m learning how to use nun chucks too.’

  To be fair, he was in pretty good shape, but it sort of hurt my eyes to look at him when he was wearing that ‘Pain is Love’ Jason Streatham T-shirt. I couldn’t resist just one teeny-weeny nibble at the bait.

  ‘You know what’s great to have on your CV as an actor?’ I said in my best helpful voice.

  ‘What’s that?’ He was all ears.

  ‘Horse-riding. Your parents have that unbelievably plush stud down the country, right? You should take advantage of it.’

  He ignored me. ‘Are we off, Susie?’ Then he added, ‘Saved this for you.’ He dropped a newspaper onto the rug. ‘That’s your mate, isn’t it?’

  I looked at the photo on the front page. Edna McClodmutton? Certainly no mate of mine. But who was that in the photo with her? The guy she was kissing?

  Gavin.

  Later that evening I hooked up with Jonathan for a drink. I’d been excited to hear from him and happy to get out of the house. Susie would be gone for the rest of the day, Keelin was going on an ‘official’ date with Simon, and I didn’t want to be stuck in the house on my own asking Dermot why Gavin had snogged Edna McClodmutton.

  ‘So, when are you coming over to London for a visit?’

  ‘Hmm?’ I’d been a million miles away. ‘When do you want me to come?’ I’d tried to sound flirty. It hadn’t worked: I’d sounded more like one of those voiceovers on the late-night sex-line ads. I reminded myself that the guy I’d been pursuing for the past few months was sitting in front of me – and I’d slept with him and there might be more opportunities to sleep with him if I acted normal.

  But at the end of the evening when he invited me back to his hotel, I told him I should probably head home, that I had some work to finish off for an early-morning meeting. That part was true. Gavin and I were having a meeting about the storyboards. I didn’t know now how I felt about that. Should I just tell him I thought he was an absolute dickhead for cheating on Kate, and then demand to know how he could have snogged Edna McClodmutton when he was supposed to be my friend? Bile burnt the back of my throat.

  Jonathan was doing his best to cheer me up, but it just wasn’t enough. And then I got another bloody text from Cian.

  Izzy please, why wont u answer me? Pls, I really wanna talk. Cian. x.

  Jonathan put me into a taxi, we kissed goodnight, and he told me he’d be in touch over the next while. I headed home to ask Dermot why Gavin had snogged Edna McClodmutton.

  23

  The next morning I stood at Gavin’s door with my storyboards under my arm and my mind made up. I was going to come out with it. I knocked loudly.

  ‘Morning, you. Come on in.’

  ‘Why did you kiss Saffron Spencer?’ I blurted out.

  ‘What?’ he asked, taken off-guard.

  ‘Why would you do that? You’re supposed to be my friend. And you told me you thought she was a muppet. So, what now? You’ve met her and you think she’s a total babe? Like everyone does? And what about Kate? Why would you do that?’

  ‘Izzy, step inside,’ he said crossly. ‘I’d prefer if all my neighbours didn’t know my business and perhaps then I can defend myself before you throw any more wild accusations at me.’

  I looked around: two of them were on their porches, pretending to check their postboxes.

  ‘I saw the photo in the paper,’ I continued, once I was in his living room.

  ‘For a start, that photo was nonsense,’ he said, no trace of humour in his voice.

  ‘Well, I read that you’d hooked up at Eve’s party.’

  ‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t believe everything you read.’ Everyone had been saying that to me lately.

  ‘But the photo…’ I was confused now.

  ‘If you’d stayed around long enough to get the whole picture, you would have discovered that the entire thing was an elaborate set-up by yours truly.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That muppet Saffron Spencer found out about your little chat with that photographer guy and decided to get her revenge. Apparently she’d heard through the grapevine that you and me sort of had a thing going, and this was her attempt to sabotage it.’

  ‘You and me? No way! Who told her that? Who thought that?’

  He shrugged. ‘Anyway, she came to the party with her social-diarist photographer in tow, made a beeline for me, and Bob’s your uncle. Totally lunged at me with her big ugly flytrap mouth.’

  ‘You didn’t enjoy it?’

  ‘Izzy, what have I told you? I don’t find her attractive. I don’t like her. I was only playing along with her little game so I could tell her how pathetic she was for treating you the way she had and that she should just fuck off and leave you alone.’

  I was almost overcome by the urge to cry. ‘Really?’ I asked, touched by his loyalty.

  ‘Anyway, she jumped on me and that bloke took the photo before I knew what was happening. What a total muppet. She seriously needs to get a life.’

  ‘Thank you, Gav,’ I said, wanting to hug him. ‘And I’m sorry for sort of putting you in that position.’

  ‘She’s poison – she would have done it anyway, Izzy. Now if we’re done with talking about her, can we get down to some business, please?’ He looked at the storyboards in my hand. ‘Hand them over.’

  I sho
wed him the series I’d done so far and was chuffed when he said he thought they were incredible and even better than he’d anticipated. I told him I still had a lot of work to do and we chatted about the additions we thought would look good. Just as he began to tell me about the progress he’d made with the initial researching and filming he’d done, a thought struck me. ‘Gavin, what about Kate? Did she see the photo? I can tell her I know exactly what Edna’s like and that –’

  ‘Izzy.’ He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. ‘Kate and I have broken up.’

  We sat in silence for a moment or two.

  ‘When?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘A week or two ago.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. What happened?’ I wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. ‘I thought you guys were solid.’

  ‘It’s been on the cards for a long time. We were just going in two very different directions, and we’d grown apart because of it. But she’s a fantastic girl, and I think we ended on okay terms, all things considered.’ It hadn’t been right for ages, he said, and, in a way, now that it was over, he was relieved. They hadn’t been arguing as such, but something didn’t fit any more. Things had come to a head when he’d told her he was entering the documentary competition. She couldn’t understand why he’d want to spend so much time on something that might never happen, even though he’d told her what the prize would entail and that it had always been his dream. Her career path had been structured so she couldn’t see the point of putting in a lot of work if you weren’t necessarily going to reap any reward.

  ‘I don’t think she ever really respected what I want to do, Izzy, or what I have to do to make it happen. That it may not be straightforward, but it’ll be worth it because, whether I win this competition or not, I’ll be doing something I love and truly believe in.’

  I could sympathize with that.

  And I had no doubt that he would succeed at it, once he was given the opportunity to prove himself.

  ‘So there it is, really,’ he said softly. ‘Kate’s such a great girl and I just hope we can stay friends.’

  He was so noble and gracious. I had so much to learn.

  ‘So, what next?’ he asked, nodding towards the storyboards.

  I hadn’t a clue. After his revelation my head was all muddled and I couldn’t think straight for the life of me.

  When I got back, the house was empty so I chatted to Dermot while I made some dinner. Keelin had left a note on the fridge to say she was at her aunt’s, delivering the Tins of Death for their Schnauzer. Just as I was filling Dermot in on Gavin’s reaction to my storyboard, my phone rang.

  ‘Hey, Iz. It’s Keelin. I’ve left my keys behind. Will you be in for the next while?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Great. I’ll see you in a bit.’

  ‘Keelin?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Grab some Ben and Jerry’s on the way, will you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Twenty minutes later the bell rang and I skipped to the door, trying to guess which flavour she’d chosen.

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Hi, Izzy.’

  My stomach lurched into my throat and I thought I was going to be sick.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  I stared at him blankly, unable to move, speak or think. His eyes were fixed to the floor, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

  ‘Okay,’ hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say it. Another minute passed.

  The silence pressed unrelentingly against my ears. I found myself fiddling with the latch on the door.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Izzy?’ he said.

  I nodded silently. My head spun and black dots flitted before my eyes. I clung to the door for support as Cian walked past me and into my house.

  24

  I asked him if he wanted to sit down, but he said he didn’t. I offered him a cup of tea, but he refused it. So I sat on the couch, wondering why I’d suggested tea. It had been overgenerous. Next I’d be offering to run him a nice hot bath or iron one of his shirts.

  But what do you say when the former love of your life knocks on your door on a Sunday evening and you’re in the middle of cooking dinner? What do you say when the person you’ve spent months trying to forget shows up with his hands in his pockets, asking if he can come in?

  ‘Are you sure you won’t have some tea?’ I asked again. What was I like? He’d probably think I’d done nothing over the last ten months except watch Father Ted.

  ‘No, honestly. I’m fine, thanks… The place looks different.’

  ‘Keelin felt she needed a bit more colour in her life.’

  He walked around the room, peering at the books and DVDs on the shelving unit, knowing that would stall any proper conversation. I went with it willingly. This way I could look at him. Drink in every inch of him. I could only do that when he wasn’t staring at me with those dangerous blue eyes.

  I studied his profile, his shoulders, torso, arms and legs, as I’d done a million and one times before. But it felt different now. As if I shouldn’t be looking, as if it was wrong to look because it was too intimate. I knew him too well: every inch of his skin, every freckle on his chest, how his hair curled when it was too long, the scar on his elbow.

  He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair needed a cut. He was wearing the T-shirt I’d bought to thank him for painting my bedroom walls when the girls and I had moved in here. He’d known I hated those green walls, and he’d painted them cream for me as a surprise.

  And here he was now. Standing in my living room, reading the back of The Big Lebowski DVD.

  What was he doing here?

  I felt nauseous again.

  ‘You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,’ he said, slotting the DVD back into the rack.

  ‘I’m a little surprised to see you.’ I was delighted I hadn’t come out with another offer to put the kettle on.

  He twiddled with the fairy-lights hanging from the bookshelf. ‘That day,’ he started, ‘when I saw you in the shop –’

  ‘It was horrible,’ I interrupted, putting my head into my hands.

  ‘I know. Just horrible. I felt so bad. And then Saffron getting the part in the film. So… I just…’

  ‘Stop,’ I said. The confusion, the panic, the shock that had been swimming through me since he’d appeared had turned into bubbling fury.

  So here he was: Cian. The shithead who had nailed my heart to the bottom of a pit seventeen feet deep, covered it with seventeen layers of cement, then walked away. The prick who, after three years, had dumped me so casually you’d swear I’d been a one-night stand. The arsehole I hadn’t heard a peep from since.

  ‘I tried calling you,’ he said quietly.

  Except for the phone call.

  ‘And texting.’

  And the texts, of course.

  After ten long months a twinge of guilt had prompted him to call over and apologize for how he’d behaved.

  ‘Big deal, Cian. Jesus! Did you think I was still hanging around waiting for an apology? It’s funny but tonight was the first night I hadn’t spent out on the porch, waiting for you to come, holding a banner over my head, saying, “Hoorah, you’re back”!’ I barked sarcastically. ‘Waiting for you to explain why you’d gone off me. How you’d fallen in love with someone and failed to inform me of the joyous news. And why you’d felt it had been acceptable to do relay races between my bed and hers.’

  He was gazing at the floor, flicking the corner of the rug with his runner. ‘Izzy, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Oh, fuck off, Cian,’ I spat, and marched into the kitchen. I couldn’t sit there any longer and look at him. Besides, a stream of hot tears was rolling down my face and I didn’t want him to see how upset I was. I’d done enough crying over him.

  In the kitchen, I took deep breaths and wiped my cheeks with the back of my hands, shocked by how easy it still was for him to unravel me. My hands were trembling and there was a painful lump in my t
hroat.

  I should be stronger than this.

  Why was I still crying over him?

  I hadn’t heard him follow me, but he was suddenly behind me, wrapping his arms around me, tucking me into his chest, resting his cheek on the top of my head, stroking my hair. I folded into him, as I had so many times before. I knew how to do it. It was easy.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Izzy,’ he whispered, as I cried into his chest. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  His smell. His arms. His hands. His voice.

  I cried and cried and my head spun like a fairground waltzer. He squeezed me tighter.

  Suddenly an image of him and Edna McClodmutton together in Social Scene flashed into my mind. I struggled out of his embrace and pushed him away. ‘Fuck off,’ I said, unable to look at those hypnotic eyes. ‘Just fuck off.’ I marched out of the kitchen, swiped my keys from the hall table and ran out of the front door, slamming it behind me.

  By the time he’d caught up with me, I was nearly at Stephen’s Green. I never knew I could run so fast. Good to know, I suppose, if I’m ever being chased by an axe-murderer.

  ‘Can we talk?’ he said, trotting up behind me. ‘I understand if you don’t want to, but I need to know you’re okay.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, out of breath.

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘I am. I just don’t like you very much, so if you pissed off, it would cheer me right up.’

  ‘Please,’ he persisted, overtaking me and standing in my path.

  ‘You came and said your apology. Well done. I’ll send you your certificate in the post. Now fuck off!’ I shouted.

  An old couple with a Jack Russell sitting on a bench nearby tutted loudly. ‘They’re probably on drugs,’ the woman said, and stood up. Her husband took her arm and they moved off.

  I dodged out of Cian’s way and kept walking. I could hear him following me, keeping the same pace.

  We continued like this for another twenty minutes until I decided I wanted a rest and slumped beside the pond.

  He sat down beside me.

  Neither of us spoke.

  I watched the ducks, meandering apparently aimlessly in different directions. Then a kid with a bag of bread ran to the edge of the water and they quacked excitedly, pedalling furiously towards her.