The Falling in Love Montage

by Ciara Smyth

  “Hello?” A confused male voice answered the phone. Of course, it was Oliver.

  “Is Ruby there?” I said, pitching my voice high and trying to sound super polite and professional so he wouldn’t recognize my voice.

  “Saoirse?”

  Of course.

  “Yeah, what?” My voice dropped back down to its normal level soaked in disdain.

  “It was weird. I heard this ringing noise and I wondered where it came from. I found this strange machine covered in cobwebs.”

  I almost laughed, but that would only encourage him.

  “Can you put Ruby on?”

  “Is your phone broken?” he asked, ignoring me. He sounded genuinely curious as to why anyone would utilize such outdated modes of communication.

  “No. Yes. Look, it’s none of your business.”

  “Is this part of your romantic game thing?”

  All my extremities turned cold. This was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.

  “What?” I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped somehow he would say something, anything, other than—

  “Ruby told me about your little list. It’s adorable,” he drawled. “Who would have guessed you were such an old romantic? Are you making a scrapbook of the experience? Do you write about it in your journal at night? Do you want me to snip off a lock of Ruby’s hair for you?”

  “Go away,” I groaned, and I would have hung up then if I hadn’t heard Ruby on the other end.

  “Oliver, stop it,” she said to him. “Hi,” she said to me.

  “So. I know this call is supposed to be us not wanting to hang up, but actually, I really want to hang up.”

  Ruby laughed. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “You told Oliver?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “He’s my nemesis. And you showed him my weakness. My soft underbelly.”

  Ruby laughed again. “Oliver is not your nemesis. And surely your weakness is your pitiful lower body strength and inability to mime pedaling?”

  “You knew I was faking?” I really thought I’d made it look like I was working that pedalo too.

  “I was doing all the work, of course I knew! My glutes were on fire the next day.”

  “I see . . .” I trailed off. “Awkward.”

  “Do you think I should be a professional sailor? I could join the navy.”

  “Based on your pedalo experience? Probably not.”

  “I could be the first woman to sail around the world in a swan.”

  “Saoirse, what are you doing in here?” Dad walked into his office with a coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. “Are you on the phone? Did you lose your mobile? I’m not buying you a new one.”

  “I’m on a call. Please leave.”

  “Is that your dad? Tell him I said hi,” Ruby said, sounding more excited than any teenager ever has about a parent eavesdropping on a conversation.

  “Oh, Saoirse, did you see one of the big swans escaped,” Dad said, flipping his tablet so the screen faced me. It was on the homepage of the local newspaper. “Peda-Low Life Steals Giant Swan” was the headline, and there was a photograph of our bird, recovered, with the owner.

  “No way,” I said.

  “Why not?” Ruby asked.

  “I know, right?” Dad said. “It was quite the scandal. They think it was kids joyriding. It was found wedged into a rock further up the cove.”

  Joyriding. Honestly.

  “I mean no way to Ruby. Dad, give me a sec, would you?”

  “Oh, it’s Ruuuuby,” he said, childishly drawing out her name. He made kissy noises that would put you off locking lips for life.

  “Why no? Can’t I say hi to your dad?”

  “This was a terrible idea,” I said, more to myself than Ruby or Dad.

  “Why don’t you ask Ruby round for dinner on Saturday night?” Dad said, smirking over his coffee.

  I shook my head fiercely and mouthed no way.

  “I heard that. I’D LOVE TO COME FOR DINNER,” Ruby shouted in my ear, and I instinctively held the phone out to prevent permanent injury. My heart started pounding. She couldn’t come here. Not to meet Dad anyway. Maybe if he was out and we had the place to ourselves. . . .

  “Ruby, we have that thing,” I said, trying to remind her about number three on the montage list. We were going to get a train into the city and go to karaoke at this bar that I was pretty sure didn’t ask for ID. It was the only way I could envision singing. And even singing sounded preferable to this dinner.

  Dad shouted back at the phone held aloft in my hand, “ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO ANYTHING?”

  I gave Dad a wide-eyed “don’t you dare” face. He ignored me. I could expect that from him.

  “NO, BUT I REALLY HATE MUSHROOMS.”

  “Ruby, we have other plans,” I said. She didn’t catch my annoyance.

  “GOT IT, NO MUSHROOMS.”

  I gave Dad a look that asked, Are you done now? He nodded and backed out of the room. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He winked.

  Too little, too bloody late.

  20.

  After the phone call, I tried not to panic. Which I take as a sign of serious personal growth. I went up to my room and started to watch one of the films, 500 Days of Summer, and ignored the fact that my foot wouldn’t stay still but kept tap tap tapping against the bed frame. Unfortunately, the guy in the film wouldn’t listen to the girl in the film telling him she didn’t want something serious and that did not help distract me from Ruby, so I switched to a proper film with a demon child and a cursed mansion. Dad popped his head in to say he was going out. He had a gift bag in his hand. I grunted instead of saying goodbye and didn’t ask what was in the bag. Partly because I was furious with him and partly because I was afraid it was something gross like lingerie for Beth.

  When the film ended, I was still agitated and decided I had to get out of the house. I needed to go see Mum. I’d seen her that morning as usual, but the urge was overwhelming. I wanted to hug her and smell her Mum smell and curl up in a ball beside her and be comforted by it even though she wouldn’t know what to say. The idea that Ruby was going to be in our house, talking to Dad, was giving me palpitations and no amount of demon children could distract me.

  There was no way she could come around here and not violate the rules somehow. So dinner with Dad wasn’t exactly on the list per se, but it was a very serious couple thing to do. That was “we-ing” on a metaphorical level if not a literal one. And there was no way we’d get through a whole evening without something to do with Mum or the blasted wedding coming up. She’d want to know all about it, and I wouldn’t want to talk about it and then there really would be a fight. We’d be in serious relationship territory then. Ruby was sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. Maybe this whole montage thing was a bad idea. She obviously didn’t understand boundaries. I mean, OK, those boundaries hadn’t exactly been spelled out for her, but she should have waited for me to invite her, not my dad shouting over the phone.

  And yet, I didn’t really want to end this whole thing over a dinner, did I? Maybe I could get out of it somehow. I needed to talk to Mum. It might not be the same as before, but talking to her still always helped give me some perspective.

  Nora waved at me from the other end of the hall. She must have wondered why I was visiting a second time in one day. Or maybe she wasn’t thinking about me at all because she was a busy person and I was an egomaniac.

  When I got to Mum’s door it was slightly open and I heard a low voice. Dad’s voice. I checked my watch. It wasn’t his normal time to visit. I thought about turning around, but something made me listen at the door. Habit maybe. It felt like being a kid again and I felt the same rumble in my stomach, as though I could potentially hear some more terrible news. As though the worst hadn’t already happened.

  The last time Dad and I had visited together was before I found out he was seeing Beth. I wouldn’t go with him after that. I couldn’t stand to see him sit there and tal
k to her knowing that he was lying and cheating and she didn’t even realize it.

  I peeked in the door, thinking that if they did catch me looking, I’d stroll in and pretend I had just turned up. But they were sitting facing the window, their backs half turned away from me, though I could still see their faces in profile.

  “What do you think?” Dad asked. “I thought I remembered you saying you wanted one like this years ago. I guess I should have got it for you then, but we had no money and I forgot. Till now anyway.”

  He was holding out a small box. She didn’t pay any attention to it so Dad opened it and showed her what was inside. I couldn’t see it exactly, but I thought it might be a bracelet. She picked it up and said thank you, but she was getting restless, I could see it in the way she was fidgeting. Dad could sense it too. His voice took on that enthusiastic primary school teacher tone I caught myself using sometimes. He picked up another box. A larger one.

  “What do we have here?” he said, rattling it.

  He pulled on the ribbon and ripped off the paper like a child on his birthday.

  It was a black square picture frame, though I couldn’t see what was in it.

  “I love it,” he said in the same kind of voice he used when I’d give him Father’s Day mugs or handmade cards, as though it was the best thing he’d ever got. He took Mum’s hand and kissed it. “You always know exactly what I want. Happy anniversary, love.”

  I totally forgot it was their anniversary. It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d ever paid much attention to anyway. Mum smiled. I wanted her to do something. To reach out and hold his hand or lean over and kiss his cheek. She didn’t do either of those things. She got up and walked away, chattering about something completely unrelated. A sharp pain hit me in the chest and I had the overwhelming urge to try to reach in and dig it out because I couldn’t bear it.

  Eyes blurry with tears, I walked as quick as I could back down the hall. When I saw Nora again I stopped her and swallowed hard.

  “Did someone take my mum out shopping to get my dad a present?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, dear, that’s not really part of our job,” she said gently.

  “She gave my dad an anniversary present. Where did she get it from?”

  Nora smiled. “Well, if I remember this right, your dad got a present on his birthday a few months back too.”

  When I looked confused, she whispered behind her hand like it was some kind of cute secret she was telling me.

  “I think he buys them himself and then gives them to her, to give to him. It’s quite sweet.”

  Dad always signed my birthday cards Love Mum and Dad. I thought it was something he did for me, out of habit or pity. I pictured him wandering the shops picking out gifts for himself from Mum, taking care to wrap them up and write cards because she would never want to miss a birthday or anniversary. He did it for her. Some sort of emptiness in me filled up and it hurt.

  I couldn’t speak, I just nodded at Nora and she left me standing in the reception wiping tears on my sleeve.

  21.

  (Unfortunately not) 3. Karaoke. Where one or both people reveal their hidden singing talent or lack thereof (as seen in My Best Friend’s Wedding, 500 Days of Summer).

  I paced the living room, alternating between rubbing the scar on the palm of my hand and rubbing the cold sweat off the back of my neck.

  Dad was humming as he set a pair of candlesticks on the dinner table. They were sort of incongruous with the papery disposable tablecloth with holly wreaths around the border.

  We were half an hour out from the dinner disaster. I mean, Dad and Ruby in one room. I’d spent the last few days trying more and more desperately to get out of it. I told Dad that Ruby canceled, but he didn’t believe me and threatened to call the Quinn house and invite the whole family around. He knew I didn’t want this night to happen, but he thought it was only because I was embarrassed. I told Ruby that Dad had to work, but she suggested coming round anyway if I had an empty house and I couldn’t think of a reason why not, so the next day I said he didn’t have to work after all. She seemed suspicious after that. I’d even stood at the top of the stairs contemplating throwing myself down there, wondering if a broken leg would save me, but knowing how determined they both were, I didn’t see how they’d accept anything less than fatality as an excuse. The only thing I hadn’t given any real consideration to was telling the truth to either of them.

  “No talking about anything . . . controversial,” I said. I’d been barking orders at him all day. “Don’t be trying to start a debate or have a ‘serious conversation’ or anything.”

  I tried to convince myself it was totally possible to go the whole night without Dad mentioning Mum. Why would he mention her, after all? He stuck her in a care home so he could forget about her.

  “This is a casual dinner,” I snapped. “Don’t be asking lots of questions. You don’t need to know her life story, OK? I’m doing you a favor letting her come here and meet you. Don’t make me regret it.”

  Dad rolled his eyes dramatically and I got the impression he thought he was impersonating me.

  “Thank you, your highness, for the great gift you have bestowed upon me. I shall finish making all the food for your guest and then I will stand in the corner with my face to the wall.”

  Dad bowed silently and hobbled off to the kitchen all hunched over like Quasimodo. Mum used to say we had the same sense of humor. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  I began fussing with the table settings, straightening forks and moving the salt shaker. My stomach flipped over. And over. Something looked wrong.

  “Why are there four place settings?” I said, my voice getting high-pitched. “You didn’t invite Beth, did you?”

  “Of course,” Dad said, shaking his head at me like I was being absentminded.

  He really didn’t get anything. It wouldn’t even occur to him that I might not want her here. I go on one appointment with her for her stupid dress and he thinks everything is grand. Or rather he wants to think that and will happily ignore any evidence to the contrary. That was Beth’s fault for not ratting me out about my little outburst. She tried way too hard.

  “She’s so excited to meet Ruby.”

  Beth and Ruby. Oh God. I hadn’t even thought of that. Ruby didn’t know who Beth was. I’d never even mentioned her name. She’d wonder who this woman was. Had I actually even said that Mum and Dad were split up? She’d think Beth was my mum. She might call her Mrs. Clarke and then there’d be a horrible awkward pause and someone would have to explain. There’s no way they wouldn’t talk about the wedding. Ruby would absolutely be asking questions about where my mum was after all that.

  Nope. This couldn’t happen. I had to do something. Anything. Even if it seemed suspicious to Ruby. I was kidding myself if I thought there was any way that we would get through the night without one of my stupid secrets coming out.

  OK, I could pretend we would reschedule and then I’d find a way to get out of it later. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t a permanent fix, but it would buy me time. I snatched the candlesticks off the table and hid them behind a cushion.

  “Uh, where are those candlesticks?” I asked Dad, like I was deeply concerned that the table was missing a vital ambience-building decoration. “You were holding them a minute ago, weren’t you?”

  Dad frowned at the table. “I thought I put them out.” He wandered off to find his misplaced items and I pulled my phone out and pressed call on Ruby’s number. She picked up on the first ring.

  “Saoirse?” She sounded confused.

  I coughed dramatically into the phone.

  “Are you OK?” she asked. She sounded worried. I almost felt guilty, like I was stealing sympathy.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t come. I feel really sick. I might be contagious. I have, um . . .” I cringed. I couldn’t say it. I had to say it. It was for the greater good. I could not have Beth and Ruby meeting. My whole carefully balanced system of rules and
boundaries was going to come crashing down if I didn’t do something drastic. Even if it meant totally mortifying myself. “I have diarrhea,” I squeaked into the phone.

  “And it’s making you cough?” The sympathy was gone, replaced by a healthy dose of skepticism.

  The doorbell rang. I held my breath, hoping Ruby wouldn’t hear it.

  “Get that door, will you?” Dad yelled like that absolute moron that he was. “I keep meaning to give Beth a key, but we’re moving so soon.”

  “Oh . . . yeah, sort of. I have a sore throat too. I’m in bed. I feel terrible,” I whispered into the phone.

  Distracted, I opened the door with the phone cradled between my shoulder and my jaw. Sure enough, Beth was standing there with a bottle of wine.

  Right next to her was Ruby.

  She was wearing a paisley knee-length dress, dozens of strings of beads wrapped around her neck, and a look I hadn’t seen before but was the much angrier cousin of the one I’d seen flash across her face that day at the drive-in when I’d snapped at her.

  Dad appeared and spread his arms and his smile wide.

  “Ruby! I’ve been dying to meet you.”

  She shifted her features into a smile and gave my dad a bunch of poofy pink flowers she was holding. Beth looked nervously between me and Ruby. Dad had no idea what was going on. My heart thumped so hard I thought it would escape. There was a distinct possibility that I would throw up right now. That wouldn’t hurt actually. I could actually get away with my lie about being sick then.

  “These are from my aunt’s garden. I was going to steal one of her bottles of wine, but I didn’t know if you’d be mad about that seeing as Saoirse’s only seventeen. Didn’t want you thinking I was a bad influence.” Ruby said all this so jovially I wondered if she might not be too mad.

  “Oh, I know Saoirse better than that. Thank you, Ruby,” Dad said.

  “Let’s go find a vase,” Beth said, glancing at me before gripping Dad by the elbow and steering him into the kitchen. Beth had obviously heard my phone call. How long had she been out there with Ruby? What might she have said?