Hating Valentine's Day

by Allison Rushby - Hating Valentine's Day

  ‘Um, hello? What do you think you’re doing?’

  I jump.

  Hannah.

  ‘Liv?’ she says, as I turn to face her. ‘Didn’t you forget something?’

  I look at her blankly.

  ‘Lindsay asked you to take some photos of Troy putting his jacket around her like she’s cold. What are we paying you for?’

  My teeth grind together again into something my dentist will later on probably label ‘The Hannah’. ‘I don’t know what it is you’re paying me for,’ I hiss at her. ‘My saintly nature, perhaps?’ After my little talk with Drew, I just can’t help myself.

  Hannah gives me a look and taps one mint-green dress-matching shoe. ‘Do I have to remind you who my father is?’

  Behind me, Drew snorts, and I swivel around quickly to give him a look that says ‘Keep out of this. This is my job.’

  ‘I’ll have you know he’s a very powerful man. He could cause you a lot of trouble.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Drew laughs, coming up to stand beside me. Every single muscle in my body tenses. ‘What are you saying?’ That Liv will never have her garbage collected in this town again?’

  Hannah pauses, unsure whether Drew is having her on or not. ‘Maybe.’ Her eyes flash as Lindsay approaches.

  The four of us look at each other.

  ‘Who are you?’ Lindsay asks Drew, breaking the silence.

  ‘Oh, haven’t you met? This is cousin Tiffany’s fuck-buddy,’ I reply quickly, and instantly hate myself for it. Of all the things I could have said about Drew, this wasn’t the phrase I meant to come out with.

  And with this Drew gives me a long look. ‘Give me a call when you get real, Liv.’ Then he turns on his heel and leaves.

  The three of us watch him until he rounds the corner and is out of sight.

  All too soon I spot the look on Hannah’s face. Time for damage control. I forget about Drew and put on my you-poor-hassled-bride voice. ‘It’s OK,’ I soothe. ‘I’m sorry about that. I think he’s had too much to drink. Oh, look at you, Lindsay!’

  I try to divert some attention away from myself.

  It works. Hannah looks over at her sister.

  ‘Me?’ Lindsay says.

  I nod. ‘Your face is all flushed. It looks great. Very virginal bride!’ I hold up my camera. ‘How about we take a few shots and then grab Troy and his jacket?’

  But Lindsay’s excited now. ‘Troy! Troy!’ she calls out to her husband, who’s standing maybe fifteen or so metres away, talking to a group of guests. ‘Come and look. The photographer says I look like a virginal bride!’

  Every single guest on the lawn turns to look at Lindsay.

  And there is dead silence. Except for one small snigger in the background.

  ‘Well, I do!’ she says, putting her hands on her hips.

  I wheel her around and start snapping off shots until she’s happy. When I’ve wasted enough film to pacify her, I grab Troy and his stupid jacket and take pose after pose until it’s time for them to move inside for the entrée.

  With everyone seated inside, I really am finished for the day.

  I make my way across the lawn and lower myself slowly onto the pavement beside the second bridal garbage truck. Molly comes over to crouch down beside me. ‘Some wedding, huh?’ she says. ‘Ready for the next one?’

  I put my head in my hands.

  ‘Um, Liv? What was all that about before? I was coming to get you, but I saw you arguing with that guy. Do you know him from somewhere?

  I exhale slowly. ‘He’s someone I was…I mean, I…’ I give up trying to explain myself. ‘He’s just someone I knew once.’

  Molly must hear the tone of finality in my voice, because she doesn’t say anything, just gets up and collects our gear, bringing my handbag over to me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. I open it up, looking for a piece of gum, or a mint—anything, really, to take away the foul taste that’s in my mouth. But there’s nothing. I start to close the bag again, but then spot my wallet and remember something. I pull it out and extract Drew’s card from the pocket at the back.

  And as Molly and I leave the car park I throw the small piece of buff-coloured cardboard behind my shoulder and into the back of the garbage truck.

  As far as I’m concerned, I just got real.

  Y Y Y Y

  Molly and I are sitting eating lunch in a park when she just walks right on over.

  ‘Justine?’ I almost choke on my sandwich. ‘What—? How—?’

  ‘Sally told me where you’d be.’

  Molly looks from one of us to the other and back again.

  ‘Hey, Molly,’ Justine says then.

  ‘Um, hi. Did you want me to…?’ Molly motions.

  I shake my head. But Justine shakes her head too. Then she grabs my arm. ‘I wouldn’t want to disturb your lunch,’ she says to Molly. ‘No. You are coming with me.’

  And with that I’m dragged up from the table and across the grass. ‘Are you all right?’ I say, when Justine finally stops.

  ‘Oh, I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Well, you and Drew.’

  I look over at the swings on the other side of the park. Nice to know he got his side of the story in as fast as possible. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I can’t believe how rude you were to him! And, no. Don’t think he rang up tattling, because he didn’t. I called him.’

  I don’t say anything, but I can feel my body start to tense from the soles of my feet up.

  ‘Well?’ Justine finally asks.

  I shrug. ‘Well, what? What am I supposed to say? For God’s sake, Justine, he was there with his ex-girlfriend—a bimbo of the first order, I might add—who thought they were on some kind of strange final date. She waxed lyrical on how great the guy was in bed. I didn’t like it, and I’m not going to hang around to listen to that kind of shit.’

  Justine points a finger. ‘But you’re not hearing “that kind of shit” from Drew, are you? You’re hearing it from some bimbo.’

  ‘What difference does it make? From Drew, about Drew—I don’t care.’

  ‘And you don’t care that he feels terrible about what happened today?’

  I look away again. ‘He’ll get over it.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice. It’s nice to know you care about him.’

  ‘I did. For a while. But it’s not about him any more. It’s about me. I’m just not interested. He had his chance and he blew it.’

  ‘What? He blew his chance by being a nice guy? Drew doesn’t even like Tiffany. He hasn’t spoken to her for months. They went out a couple of times because his dad and her mum set it up. Then she called up crying because her date for the wedding backed out on her, and he felt bad, so he did her a favour and went along.’

  I remember tall, blonde Tiffany. ‘Mmm. She’s a real charity chase, that Tiffany. What are you going to tell me next? That Drew was just trying to boost her self-esteem by sleeping with her?’

  This catches Justine out. ‘I don’t know anything about that. All I’m saying is they’re not seeing each other any more. That this was just a one-off thing.’

  I sigh and look at the patchy grass beneath my feet. ‘Fine. I’m not saying that’s not true. But it’s not about that. Like I said, I’m just not interested in playing those kind of games any more. When I saw them together today, I realised I’m not ready to go through all that again. I’m only trying to protect myself here.’

  Justine laughs out loud at this. An ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing’ laugh.

  ‘Yes?’ I cross my arms.

  ‘Too right you’re trying to protect yourself.’

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ It’s getting hot out here in the sun. Hot and tedious.

  ‘Just yesterday you were begging Drew to give you a second chance. Begging. And now that he needs one, what do you do? Run at the first sign of trouble, that’s what. The truth is you’re not protecting yourself. You’re just plain scared. You’re too scare
d to give him his chance like he gave you yours.’

  I shrug.

  ‘Oh, please.’ Justine shakes her head now, a bemused look crossing her face.

  ‘What?’

  ‘How are you ever going to find him, Liv?’

  ‘What? Who?’

  ‘This perfect, perfect guy who never takes a step out of line. This white knight in shining armour.’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘He should be pretty easy to spot in a crowd. On his horse and all.’

  Justine throws me a dirty look.

  ‘Fine,’ I say then, wanting to get this over and done with. ‘Obviously you’ve got a point to make. Would you like to make it? I’m getting burned. And I’ve got a wedding to get to…’

  Justine pauses for a second, and I can tell she’s wondering just how candid she should be. ‘Sure. I’ll make my point. Relationships are messy, Liv. That’s all there is to it. They’re never perfect. There are always things to discuss and work out. You know that.’

  Did I ever. ‘So I’m supposed to settle for second best right from the get-go. Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘No, but you can’t fly off the handle when everything doesn’t go your way either. Drew had a good explanation for what happened today and you just dismissed it.’

  ‘Well, that’s my prerogative, isn’t it? When I saw him with Tiffany, it just all came back to me—what happened with Mike. I promised myself that this time around I’d be more cautious. That I’d wait until—’

  ‘But that’s just it!’ Justine butts in, voice raised, carrying across the park. ‘All you ever end up doing is waiting! It’s like you gave up men for Lent one year and forgot to start back up again.’

  I throw up one hand, thinking I really, really don’t need this right now. My head’s pounding, I’m tired. I just want to shoot what I have to shoot and go home.

  Justine and I eye each other off.

  ‘What?’ Justine says eventually. ‘Go on—say it.’

  Oh, hell—why not? May as well get this over and done with. ‘I just didn’t expect to get the “it’s terrible to be single so you’d better grab the guy that’s in front of you and hang on tight” argument from you, that’s all.’

  ‘What are you talking about? I never said there was anything wrong with being single! You’re deliberately avoiding my point.’

  ‘The one about Lent?’

  Justine’s jaw tightens. ‘Forget what I said about Lent…’ She pauses. ‘What we’re talking about here is Drew. Drew is the guy. The one you’ve been waiting for. He’s perfect. But you’re throwing him away because of one little thing.’ She holds her right index finger up.

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘No, that’s not true. It’s like I told him today—this is just the tip of the iceberg. If it wasn’t this it would have been something else. Something else further down the track, when I was more…involved.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. Some other excuse. Some other excuse you could have used to ditch him before it got too serious, just like you did with the very few guys you’ve dated since you broke up with Mike. God, Liv, I have to give it to you. You’re good at it—protecting yourself. You’ve been practising for years. You’re getting so good at it I’m surprised you haven’t branched out on the evolutionary scale, joined the insect world, and started having sex with all the guys you meet so you can have the satisfaction of eating them after you mate.’

  My brain stops dead when I hear this. Eating them after I mate? This is ridiculous. I’ve had enough now. My mouth opens and closes a few times.

  But it’s Justine who speaks first. She sighs. ‘Liv, I know you’re scared of being hurt again, but Drew’s not like that. He’s really worried that he’s upset you. Why don’t you call him? Or try and get away early tonight and come to the ball with us and…’

  Ugh. That’s it. I am so, so sick of everyone being the resident expert on what’s going on in my head. I hear enough about it all from Tania as it is. ‘That frigging ball,’ I mutter, staring at the grass.

  ‘Sorry?’

  I’m about to blow the whole thing off, but then look up to clock the expression on Justine’s face—all innocence and ‘I just want what’s best for you, Liv’—and I decide to tell her how I feel once and for all. To have my say.

  ‘It means I thought I was finally home free. I thought that Dad was going to leave me alone, Rachel wasn’t going to set me up and you weren’t going to make me go to your stupid singles events any more. I’m sick of everyone pushing me and pushing me and pushing me. I thought that I’d got lucky, that you’d all made some kind of pact to give me a break from being set up this Valentine’s Day. Or hopefully for the whole year. For ever, even! I thought you might all let me forget. Finally. But, no, I should call Drew, date Drew, go to the ball with Drew. Why can’t everyone just leave me be?’ As the words exit my mouth I remember what Tony said in reply to this question in my dream other night: I can’t. And I don’t fail. I never fail. Remember that.

  Stop thinking about it, Liv. Stop it! It was a dream. Just a dream.

  Justine’s voice raises again. ‘You have no idea, do you? Why do you think everyone keeps at you about the guy thing—tries to get you to date, tries to set you up?’

  ‘Gee, I don’t know.’ I make a mock-dumb face. ‘To make my life a misery?’ Ugh. Why do these things keep coming out of my mouth?

  Justine looks away, disgusted.

  ‘Right, then,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you tell me your great motive, if it’s so wonderful? I’d love to hear it. Can’t wait. I bet it’s almost as good a fairytale as whatever you told Drew about Mike. Because I’m sure you did. Not that you ever met him, that is.’

  ‘I didn’t need to, did I? I’ve been living with him for the past two years through you! And, fine, you want to hear it like it is? I’ll tell you. OK. So Mike and you decide to split. You pine—and I mean really pine, as in you don’t go out of the house except to go to work for ages—then you rebound and date like a thing possessed for six months, you wear yourself out, then go into dating hibernation for well over a year. You think that’s normal? It’s not. It’s a bit…I don’t know, extreme. Your dad, Rachel, me—we’re all just trying to help you get back into the swing of things. To get you to see that not all relationships have to be like yours and Mike’s was. Valentine’s Day coming around each year just reminds us what you’re missing out on.’

  ‘Oh, yes—the dating slump. Don’t think I haven’t heard it all before. But as far as I’m concerned I’m not missing out on anything, so you can stop. You can all stop. I’m not going to date Drew. I’m not going to call Drew. I’m not going to the bloody ball. I’m going to go to my final booking of the day, then to bed, and tomorrow I’m going to get up and go to work…’

  ‘Ugh.’ Justine lets out a frustrated noise from her throat. There’s a pause as, once again, our eyes do battle. ‘I can’t believe you!’ There’s another pause before she points a finger at me again, angrier now than I’ve ever seen her. ‘Right, Liv. Fine. You do that,’ she says. ‘You keep busy. Really busy. You fill your days up with work and Spanish and the gym, and whatever else you can find. And then it’ll all be OK, won’t it? Because that way you won’t have time to stop and think about what you threw away so readily today. About the chance you couldn’t give to someone who could so readily offer the same thing to you.’

  I feel terrible almost immediately.

  And every fifteen minutes or so that afternoon I check my mobile for messages.

  Nothing.

  Or close to nothing—there’s one that happily informs me that, come Monday evening, I’m going to be the proud parent of two ancient cats named Betsy and Shu-shu.

  Great. I can’t help but grimace as I think of the cats’ owner. And the grimace quickly turns into a frown as I start to worry—all the things I’ve been dreaming this week are starting to seem scarily like premonitions of some kind. Premonitions that are getting harder and harder to discount.

  Eventually I stop checki
ng my mobile. Because I realise I’m not getting a second second chance. Not from Drew. And not from Justine.

  I drop Molly off at home at the end of the day, and when she closes the door to her house behind her I bend forward, resting my head on the steering wheel.

  All this fighting has drained me. Especially fighting with Justine. I never, ever argue with Justine. She’s such an easygoing, hard-to-get-a-rise-out-of person.

  The awful thing is, some of the things she came out with this afternoon—she was right. Some of the things I said to Drew today were just plain wrong. But I was angry and, like I told Justine, I was—am—trying to protect myself. I can’t deal with relationships like she and Sally are able to. I just can’t. This week—it’s just been a bit too much for me. A bit of a rollercoaster ride. I need some time to decompress. I need some…

  Panadol. I think, as my head throbs.

  I push myself up off the steering wheel then. OK. That’s enough. I’m only making my headache worse by sitting here and going over everything. I turn the ignition back on and pull out.

  Y Y Y Y

  Almost fourteen hours after I last closed it, I’m standing outside my front door again, fumbling around in my pants pocket for my keys. Finally, I locate them, and stick my house key in the door. It’s as I go to turn it that, in one swift movement, the bag on my right shoulder falls onto my arm.

  ‘Ow!’ I yell, then, ‘Bloody, damn it…’ I mumble more quietly, rearranging my bag and reaching out for the door again. Just as my fingers touch the lock, the door magically opens in front of me. I look up. It’s Drew. Drew in a tuxedo.

  He looks—well, I hate to admit it…fantastic.

  ‘Er, hi,’ he says.

  ‘Hi,’ I say back, pulling my key out of the door awkwardly. Shit, oh, shit, oh, shit. My heart thumpa-thumps as I recall our fight and all the things I said. I didn’t think he and Justine would still be here.