Hello, Heartbreak

by Amy Huberman

  ‘Okay,’ he said, releasing me gently. ‘’Bye,’ he whispered, and kissed the top of my head. Then he was gone.

  35

  The third time the doorbell rang I wondered would it be Tommy Lynch, the guy from St Killian’s I’d gone out with for two months in fifth year. Well, everyone else had called to the door in some Hallowe’en-ghosts-of-my-past way, so why not him?

  It turned out not to be Tommy. It was the girls back with the pregnancy tests. Before I ran out of energy completely, I sat them down to tell them about my decision.

  ‘Did you tell him you were pregnant?’

  ‘No, not yet. But at least I know how he feels about me, right?’

  They both looked down at the letter again and nodded. Neither of them seemed convinced.

  ‘Izzy, you know you don’t have to stay with Cian because of the baby. It’s not nineteen-twenties Ireland here. We’re not going to send you off to a Magdalene laundry if you don’t marry him,’ Susie pleaded.

  ‘We’d support you, you know that. And your family would, too, once they were over the shock.’

  I could see the sadness in their eyes and I knew they weren’t buying it. But I’d spent too much of my life being the victim, coasting, flitting from one thing to the next without any conviction. This time, when it mattered, I was going to take responsibility for my actions and step up to the plate. ‘Guys, all I want is for you to be happy for me. Maybe Cian and I were meant to be. I mean, how lovely is that letter?’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  I smiled at them. ‘I’m okay with this, really.’

  Keelin looked down at it. ‘He does have lovely handwriting.’

  ‘And he’s a good speller,’ Susie added.

  Well, there you go. What more could anyone want?

  An hour later, we sat on the bathroom floor and stared into space, our rear ends completely numb. Confused, knackered and speechless.

  We’d done five tests. All negative. We’d come to the conclusion that it’d been a dodgy batch and they were all broken. Then Susie jumped up and said she’d do one, just to check I was doing it right. That came out negative too. She’d nearly fainted on the loo from hyperventilating.

  ‘Suz, what’s the matter with you?’ Keelin asked. ‘You can’t get pregnant by taking a test.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ she wheezed.

  ‘Then what? I keep telling you that you wear the belt on those jeans too tight.’

  ‘What if I ever got pregnant with Aidan’s baby?’ she yelped, nearly passing out again.

  Keelin and I looked at each other. ‘Well, honey, it is a possibility. It always is when you’re sleeping with someone. That’s just the shitty reality.’

  ‘It’s not meant to terrify the living daylights out of you, though, is it? I mean, we’re adults. It’s not like it would be a crisis teenage pregnancy. Okay, it may not be planned, but if you’re in love…’ Her face crumpled and she started to cry.

  ‘What is it, Suz?’ Keelin asked gently, rubbing her arm.

  ‘I don’t… I don’t think I could do it. I couldn’t have a baby with Aidan. It’s too difficult. He’s too difficult. It would break me. I know it’s insane, and I know you can’t understand how I fell for him. But I did. I really, really fell for him. I never meant to. It was never the plan. I just wanted to be a bit wild for a while. Show my parents that I wasn’t this perfect person who had to fit into the mould they’d created and live by their rules for the rest of my life. And I knew Aidan was all wrong for me – is wrong for me. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t unbelievably exciting. And it was the first time I’d ever been really physically attracted to a bloke in my life. I mean really attracted. And I’ve never had sex like it. And what if that’s just the way it is for me? That I can only have chemistry with the arseholes? Because, believe me, I want to be with a man who is kind, and uncomplicated and makes me feel good about myself, but I won’t be satisfied if I don’t want to rip his clothes off. And I’m afraid I won’t find someone who has it all for me.’

  ‘You know what, Suz?’ I offered. ‘I’m in such a messy place right now that perhaps I’m not the best one to be offering advice here, but I gotta tell you, from my own experience, my ideas of what I thought I found sexy have changed so much that I barely recognize what I used to find attractive. I thought I had a type – cocky blond blokes with an overbearing sense of self-importance. What I thought I was programmed to look for in a man turns out to be what makes me miserable. And misery is not sexy. Happy is sexy. Honestly. And I don’t think it has to be a second-best or self-preserving not-as-exciting alternative. I’ve come to see that self-tortured sexy is just so boring.’

  ‘Iz has a point,’ Keelin said. ‘Don’t limit yourself into thinking that you now have a type you’re attracted to and that’s the only way it can be. Look at all the crazies I went out with. All those loud arty types, unpredictable musicians, temperamental blokes into all sorts of drugs, tortured writers and stoners. And, sure, it was exciting because it was different and they were crazy. They were the sexy, moody, brilliant-in-the-sack blokes. But I never fell in love with any of them. And now look at the guy I’m with. An accountant! Who’s uncomplicated and principled and so normal. And I’ve never felt so wild and alive and out of control in my entire life.’

  ‘Keelin, are you in love?’ I asked, grinning at her.

  ‘Shut up. No, I am not. Get a grip.’ She tucked her knees under her chin defensively. ‘Okay, maybe. Just a little bit.’ We all smiled.

  Then Susie said, ‘Oh, guys, I know there’s no future with Aidan. So what am I doing?’ She looked so lost, it nearly broke my heart. Her eyes welled and then the floodgates opened.

  We huddled together and held on to each other as Susie cried and cried. Even though she was devastated, I was relieved that it had dawned on her now instead of ten years down the line when she had kids and a mortgage. She had difficult decisions to make now, but she’d be okay. I knew she would.

  And Keelin was in love? Just a little bit? If Susie hadn’t been so distraught, I’d have opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ Susie asked, a little later, after she’d gone from sitting on the bathroom floor to curling up on the bathmat.

  ‘I’m going to the doctor tomorrow to get a proper test done.’

  ‘If you’re not pregnant, will you please, please, go and tell Gavin you feel the same way about him? Please?’

  I hadn’t lasted too long with my decision not to tell them about Gavin. The frustration over the pregnancy tests had broken my resolve. I had also told them I was pretty sure that I hated, rather than loved, Cian.

  Now everything was messed up. And it was so much more complicated than just telling Gavin I felt the same way.

  I sighed heavily, feeling even more exhausted. He’d been so brave to come straight out and tell me exactly how he felt. And I had turned him down point blank. He wasn’t up for playing games. He’d hate me for messing him about. How could I tell him the real reason I’d rejected him? I shut my eyes tight and pulled my knees into my chest. It was far too shameful.

  I already missed him. And now I couldn’t even have him as a friend.

  Well, that was the price I had to pay for being such an idiot.

  And, anyway, I knew I was pregnant. I just knew it. The doctor would confirm it tomorrow. I looked at Keelin and Susie, hunched on the bathroom floor, the moonlight spilling through the window making their faces glow a pale blue.

  ‘Now, Isobel.’

  I snapped out of my daydream and shuffled nervously on the cold steel chair in the surgery.

  ‘I have your test result.’ Dr O’Reilly folded his arms and stared at me. I’d been mortified at coming here today, but I hadn’t known where else to go. Dr O’Reilly had been our family GP since Stephen was born, so it seemed only natural to consult him. I’d made him cross his heart and hope to die that he wouldn’t say anything to my mum and dad.

>   ‘So, here it is.’ He coughed.

  I was having a baby. I braced myself.

  ‘You’re not pregnant.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not pregnant.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not pregnant, Isobel.’

  I woke up on the floor with Dr O’Reilly taking my pulse.

  ‘Am I dying?’

  ‘No.’ He half laughed. ‘You’re not dying. What you are, Isobel, is exhausted.’ He helped me to my feet and sat me back in the chair. ‘You fainted from shock. Or relief, to be more exact. Your system has been under an awful lot of pressure lately. That’s why your periods have stopped. Stress, Isobel. You’re going to have to start taking better care of yourself. Are you sleeping?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Have you had a stressful time lately?’

  I instantly thought of Cian. ‘Yes. I suppose I have.’ Then I thought about Gavin. About thinking I was pregnant with Cian’s child. And what kind of a life I thought I’d been facing up to two minutes ago. ‘I’m not pregnant?’

  ‘No.’

  I started laughing and crying at the same time. Dr O’Reilly handed me a lollipop. Did he think I was still five years old? That was worrying, considering I’d come to find out if I was pregnant or not. ‘Sorry. You must think I’m very immature.’

  ‘Not at all. The lollipop is to raise your sugar level. Clearly it’s only a short-term measure. You need to get at least eight hours’ sleep a night, and make sure you’re eating properly. Doing things like getting massages or taking up yoga can be extremely relaxing for people under stress.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

  I left the surgery, went straight to the corner sweet shop and bought a humungous bag of apple drops, a Twix, two packets of Smarties and some Skittles. Doctor’s orders. Far nicer than having to go to the chemist and take a rake of nasty antibiotics. Or being pregnant for that matter.

  I wasn’t pregnant. If I’d figured that out a few weeks ago I’d have saved myself an awful lot of anguish.

  So… what now?

  36

  I started putting my life back together bit by bit. I did my best to get eight hours’ sleep a night, to eat well and do some relaxing exercise, like walking up the escalators in Brown Thomas. I even went to a yoga class with Susie. She loved it, but I wasn’t sure it was for me. I found the middle-aged women farting and the men in tight Lycra pants quite traumatizing.

  Most of all, though, I savoured the freedom of not being the mother of Cian Matthews’s child and everything that came with it, like getting my arse into gear about my career. I’d already applied to do a night course in graphic design when the new term started, and I was giddy with excitement about it.

  I hadn’t seen Gavin in weeks, but I’d heard through the grapevine that not only had he been chosen as a finalist for the documentary competition, he’d already been head-hunted by a production company based on the strength of his submission. I was over the moon for him and texted to congratulate him. He texted me back saying he was delighted and thanking me again for my contribution with the storyboards. And that was it.

  I couldn’t believe how much it was still affecting me. One day, when Emma asked me how he was I burst into tears.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ she asked, looking at me as if I was an alien.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just I’m going to miss him if he goes and works for another company.’

  ‘Izzy, you have to toughen up. You’ve made great progress in getting back out there and socializing, but don’t start putting the shits up me that you might relapse and start crying in public again. Get a grip! You don’t know the damage control I’ve had to do on your behalf over the last year. I even told people in college you were on a drug trial that’d gone horribly wrong.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry. Absolutely. No, you’re right, I’m fine,’ I said, wiping my eyes and breathing purposefully. I grinned bravely, but she was still looking at me sceptically.

  I was feeling an awful lot better overall, though. I was heading out most weekends and enjoying myself. Or spending time at home watching Nationwide with Mum, singing Céline Dion duets with Dad on the karaoke machine and taking the now-shaggy-again Doris out for walks.

  Eventually my period came back.

  The relief.

  The overwhelming relief. I mean, I clearly knew I wasn’t pregnant (five failed pregnancy tests and confirmation from a doctor), but it proved to me that I was getting back to normal. That I was moving on.

  But one thing still troubled me. One thing continued to wake me in the middle of the night. I’d hoped that if everything else more or less fell into place I would forget him. That maybe it was never meant to be. But it was impossible. Forgetting Gavin would be like forgetting to breathe or eat or think.

  Susie ended it with Aidan. Again, I was tempted to open a bottle of champagne, but thought it more sensitive to let her get over it first.

  Then one evening she arrived in the pub for a post-work bevvy and made an announcement.

  ‘So what do you think?’

  ‘I think you’re absolutely dead right and you should go for it.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  She smiled broadly. ‘I’m going to book it.’

  Susie had decided that she needed to get away for a bit. Everything to do with the Aidan break-up had sort of imploded in her shortly afterwards, forcing her to stop and assess where she was in her life. ‘I just can’t believe I allowed myself to be taken over by the situation. I’d always thought I was stronger than that. How could I not have seen the writing on the wall when it was so bloody clear all along?’

  ‘Suz, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve said yourself that a lot of it was down to your own issues, and once you’ve acknowledged what they are and resolved them, there’s no way you’ll allow it happen again. It’s time you accepted yourself for who you are, a fantastic, clever, beautiful, funny woman.’

  ‘Iz, you sure you don’t want to come on the yoga trip with me? You sound so hippie and zen and, well, perfect for it, really.’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll leave you to your Lycra and your dangerously gaseous downward-dog positions. Besides, my course will be starting shortly and that’s now my main priority.’

  ‘Good for you!’

  ‘Good for us!’ I said, raising my glass. We toasted ourselves, and I wanted to hug her. So I did.

  We texted Keelin to join us and she turned up a while later… with Simon! Susie and I nearly fell off our stools! Keelin never brought a guy with her to meet us. She always said she wouldn’t burden us with the obligation as they were usually too odd to maintain a normal conversation. Well, ‘Shymon’ was far from odd. Yes, he was shy, but in a lovely, unassuming and gentlemanly way. And I could totally see what Keelin meant about his quiet, mysterious sexiness. Jaysus, they were smitten with each other. When Susie told them the pub was on fire to see if she could catch their attention, all they said was ‘Really?’ in dreamy voices without breaking their mutual gaze.

  We decided to leave them to it. Susie and I got chips and walked home arm in arm to Google all the cities in Italy she was going to and start planning her trip. I was so happy for her that she was doing it. And doing it on her own. How brave. I told her she’d come home all bendy and fluent in Italian with her issues resolved, and she said she liked the sound of that.

  As we walked home, I felt a sort of resolve that I hadn’t felt in a long while. Perhaps we were all getting wiser and growing up. And sometimes it’s nice to be able to acknowledge that the shit times had opened your eyes, and be okay with that. Without them, you wouldn’t have come out the other end to be where you were now, having learnt all you had.

  My final lesson in the whole ordeal came when I met up with Cian finally to put things to bed – not literally. I thanked him for the letter, but told him it was definitely over. For good. I didn’t say anything intentionally to hurt him or make him suffer. I just said
it like it was.

  And what did he say in return? ‘Whatever. Saffron and I are probably going to give it another go anyway.’

  What a tosser. Thanks be to God I’d seen the light and dodged that bullet. ‘Well, I think you should,’ I said earnestly, ‘because, Cian, in all my life, I have never met two people more suited.’ With that, I left him sitting in the coffee shop, firmly closing the door and leaving behind that chapter of my life.

  37

  It was the day before the world première of Snog Me Now, You Dublin Whore and, with the excitement and furore, you’d have sworn we were getting ready for George Clooney and Brad Pitt to descend on us. Geraldine had had hair extensions put in for the occasion. Eve had arrived in in a Roland Mouret dress, ‘in case I got papped by any photographers’ on the way to work. When I asked her why on earth they would want to take photos of us, she removed her Chanel sunglasses, shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘You never know!’ God help us. She’d probably made poor Philippe stand outside the office with a camera all day just so she could make herself feel important.

  Everything was pretty much ready for the première and we were finishing off the last few bits and bobs. I was quite looking forward to it. Eve kept annoying everybody by saying she was keeping the guest list top secret until the night. Honestly, did she think we were going to be that impressed by the celebrity chef from Leitrim we already knew was coming? (Although, I have to admit, I was slightly impressed, and I was even contemplating quizzing him on how he managed to get his meringues so fluffy.)

  We were all being put up in the Shelbourne Hotel courtesy of BCM, and that was the bit I was most looking forward to. I couldn’t wait to get there, run myself a luxurious bubble bath, swan around in a lovely soft terry robe and steal all the mini shampoos, body lotions and soaps from the bathroom. I was also looking forward to the free piss-up after the film screening. It was an invitation-only party and I’d managed to get everyone on the list. Keelin, Susie and Emma were ‘models’. Will, Marcus, Caroline and Orla were in a ‘pop group’ called Mix ’n’ Match. And Stephen and Deirdre were down as Bono’s children. Eve hadn’t batted an eyelid when I’d passed the list to her, just scanned it briefly and said they were all in, and that she’d probably got them on her list anyway.