The Falling in Love Montage

by Ciara Smyth

  “No, I mean, how come you work here and how have I not seen you here before?”

  “I do the night shift. I’m going to take a gap year. I needed a job and Mum knows one of the managers. The money is terrible, but I like the work.”

  “You’re taking a gap year?”

  Hannah was always so sure she wanted to be a lawyer that I was surprised she would put that on hold.

  “I wanted to figure some things out. Dad let me shadow him at work for a bit so I could see what it was like.”

  I nodded. I remembered her pestering her dad to let her do that for ages. He always said no.

  “Saoirse.” She looked at me with wide eyes. “It was the most boring week of my life. Being a solicitor is so dull.”

  I laughed and remembered how Ruby said people who were certain they knew what they wanted to do were probably wrong.

  “I thought about it and decided I’d like to work with dementia, but I wasn’t sure in what capacity. I got a job here to see if the people side would interest me or if I should pursue research.”

  “You want to work with people with dementia?”

  “Yes.”

  I almost rolled my eyes. It wouldn’t occur to her to elaborate.

  “Why, though?”

  “Because of you,” she said like it was obvious. “I saw what it did to you, to your family. I practically lived at your house, Saoirse. Remember? Your mum was always good to me. I wanted to do something for people like her.”

  I tried to process this. Why would she care so much about me, or my family, when she left me?

  “When you truly love someone, it doesn’t go away,” she said, surprising me again by reading my lack of response.

  “What it looks like just changes,” I said, and she nodded.

  “Don’t you still love me?” she asked.

  I let my breath whoosh out of me to give myself time to think.

  “Yes,” I said honestly. “But I don’t want to.” Brutal honesty. Hannah didn’t look offended or hurt by it, though.

  “I do,” she said. “I don’t want to forget what we had. Ever. In the past, we’re perfectly preserved, best friends, in love forever. I like that.” She looked at the ceiling. “Everything is moving so fast. Before long everyone we know will be scattered across the country, the world even. Our lives will look completely different to what they’ve always been so far.” She put her hand on mine. “I like having something that can’t ever change. It’s already happened.”

  Hannah squeezed my hand and stood up to leave. I stood with her and hugged her. I didn’t talk much as Oliver drove me home.

  33.

  I was woken by a soft rap on my bedroom door. I opened my eyes and adjusted to the new bedroom. My sleeping brain still expected to wake up in the old house. I shuffled upright and told Dad he could come in. I could tell it was him by his knock.

  “Hey, love.” He sat himself on the end of my bed, a position that had “serious conversation” connotations. I grunted in response. The last time he had serious-talk vibes, we were moving. I had a right to be suspicious.

  “I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

  “Which part?”

  His eyes darted away for a second. He meant me going to the home instead of him. He didn’t want to talk about our fight, of course, but I knew that when I asked.

  “I left my phone down the side of the sofa when I went to bed. I didn’t hear it ring. I feel terrible. I’ve been on the phone to them this morning and told them they shouldn’t call you if they can’t get me.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You shouldn’t have to deal with that stuff. That’s my job.”

  “It wasn’t that bad. And besides, what are they meant to do if someone has to go down there and they can’t get you?”

  “Well, no one has to go down there, love.”

  “What do you mean? They call you every time Mum has a wobbler.”

  “Because I asked them to. They’re professionals. They’re perfectly capable of dealing with it themselves, but I don’t like the idea of Liz being upset without me being there.” He sighed. “I don’t know if it matters that much, though. Half the time she’s settled by the time I get there.”

  “So why go?” I asked. I didn’t know what I wanted the answer to be.

  “I love her,” he said.

  “Try guilt,” I said. “If it were love she wouldn’t be there.”

  “Do you really think that your mum is in a home because I didn’t love her enough?” He seemed to squeeze the words out through a constricted windpipe.

  I heard a plea for absolution in those words. I saw it on his face. Tell me I’m not a terrible person.

  But the real question for me was, do I think my mother is in a home because I didn’t love her enough? Would someone love me enough to stay with me when I couldn’t take care of myself? Would I want them to?

  I didn’t say anything and he closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them he handed me a CD case he was carrying.

  “Here, I found this when we were packing up. I thought you might want to have a look. I don’t think we ever showed it to you. You don’t have to watch it, of course. But don’t lose it.”

  When he was gone I opened the case and on the CD inside, written in black Sharpie, was one word. Wedding.

  When Dad and Beth had left for work I got out of bed. I knew where our old DVD player was, in a box I’d labeled “ancient artifacts” sitting in the hallway. I pulled it out from beneath a tangle of cables, leaving an actual cassette player, the landline I’d called Ruby on, and a half a dozen old mobile phones on the tiles.

  Once it was hooked up I sat close to the TV, my thumbnail in my mouth and a tumbling feeling in my stomach. I wanted to watch it from behind a cushion, the way I watched horror films when I was little.

  The scene opened on a house, one of those country manor type of houses with sprawling green lawns and a pebbled driveway. A soft violin played something familiar and the camera panned to guests milling in dated sherbet-colored dresses with spaghetti straps and suits that looked the same as every suit I’ve ever seen. I didn’t recognize many of the people there. Aunt Claire and her ex-husband; Mum’s parents, I recognized them from photos. Dad’s parents were there and I felt a twinge of sadness for my granny who died when I was eight or nine. I didn’t think of her often anymore. A woman in a silvery slip dress with chunky highlights was kind of familiar. She might have stayed with us a few times when I was younger. A fuzzy memory came back to me, her and my mother laughing in the living room late at night while I begged to stay up so I could be included. The memory smelled like grown-up perfume and red wine kisses on my forehead.

  I fast-forwarded through the next few minutes, a squiggly, blurry mixture of people milling around and wide landscape shots of the house. I pressed play when the location shifted to inside. Everyone was seated, the camera only catching the backs of their heads as they turned to face the door. Then Mum appeared, a grandfather I didn’t know on her arm. A dress so familiar from photographs it was like I’d seen her in it in real life. She wasn’t wearing a veil. A memory came back: being at Izzy’s house when we were really little. She put on her mother’s veil and flounced around the house, declaring herself a fairy princess. I ran home and asked my mother for her veil and she told me she didn’t have one. I was so jealous. Watching the video, I was glad I could see her face.

  She was thirty-six, thirty-seven in the video, but she seemed younger. There was a giddy energy radiating from her. I couldn’t help but smile as she tried with little success to force her features into solemn repose. The camera cut to my dad. He was only twenty-six or so and he looked far too young to get married. He wasn’t trying to look serious; he was smiling in a way that lit up not just his face, but his whole body. Like he might burst with it. I paused the screen on his face. He must have known in that moment that there was a good chance my mother would end up as she had, and I searched for the slightest hint of doubt in his expr
ession. All I saw was a glimmer when his eye caught hers. They looked like they were sharing a wonderful secret.

  When it ended, there was an ache in my throat from trying not to cry.

  Then I heard the scraping of a key in the door and I scrambled up. I fanned my face frantically. I don’t know why I thought that would do anything.

  “Hello?” Beth called out. I heard her drop her keys onto the side table. “I forgot my bloody phone,” she said, coming into the living room. “It’s boiling out there today. Put some sunscreen on— Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

  I was standing in the middle of the room, feeling like I’d been caught doing something bad and unsure how to hide it. When Beth looked at me I couldn’t help it. My face crumbled and fat wet tears fell down my face. I buried my face in my hands as though that could hide me. A second later, her arms wrapped around me. My face mushed against her shoulder. I cried a wet snotty patch on her clothes. I made that pathetic sobbing noise people make when they can’t catch their breath. She didn’t let go. She stroked the back of my head over and over until the tears slowed down and my shallow breathing turned to hiccups.

  34.

  SAOIRSE

  I think I made a mistake.

  OLIVER

  I can’t believe you got the highest possible points in the leaving cert and it took you two weeks to figure that out. It’s sad really.

  SAOIRSE

  Are you going to be a dick or are you going to help me?

  OLIVER

  Yes.

  35.

  The Grand Gesture

  I gave the nod and Oliver pressed play on the background music, then the video call button on his phone. I started running before she answered. Oliver followed beside me on a skateboard. He looked too posh to be on a skateboard, but it was necessary for smooth filming.

  “What is going on?” I heard Ruby’s voice, but I couldn’t see her face, as Oliver had the camera side pointed at me. All she would be able to see was me running.

  “Just watch,” he said.

  I really hoped I wouldn’t throw up. Either from my body rejecting exercise as something foreign or from the sick nerves that had started yesterday when I texted Oliver.

  I ran from two streets over, the heat making my hair stick to the back of my neck. This is why running across town or running through the airport is such a big part of rom-coms: running is terrible and you must be really committed to your grand gesture to do it.

  Finally, I turned into Oliver’s drive, my cheeks pink and shiny, and I used all the energy I had left to clamber up on top of the hood of his Jeep, strategically parked below Ruby’s bedroom window.

  “Gentle,” he screeched, and covered his heart with his hand. I ignored him and took a deep breath, not easy after the aforementioned marathon.

  “YOU’RE A WANKER, NUMBER NINE!” I yelled the famous line from Imagine Me & You with as much volume as I could muster in my exerted state. My stomach turned over and I mentally crossed everything I could, hoping that Ruby would open the window. Maybe it didn’t take long, but it felt like forever before she did and her head appeared in the open space. Her phone was in her hand, but I knew Oliver had already ended the call. He had another job to attend to.

  “What are you doing?” She swatted a wasp away from her face.

  “I’m just a girl,” I panted. Then I doubled over with a stitch and held my index finger up in a “just a minute” gesture. I retched a little. Was this working out? I stood upright after a few seconds and forced the words out through labored breaths.

  “I’m just. A girl. Standing in front. Of another girl, asking her. To please accept. This grand. Gesture. As an apology for being an absolute gobshite.” My breathing eased back to normal(ish) and I pushed the hairs escaping from my ponytail out of my face. Ruby raised both her eyebrows skeptically.

  “The thing is,” I continued, all my nerves jangling. My voice was shaking, but I attempted my best posh English accent. “Sorry, I just, um, eh, this is a really stupid question, and par-particularly in view of our recent argument, but, uh, I just wondered if by any chance, um, uh, I mean obviously not because I am just some git who’s only slept with no people, but I—I just wondered uh, I—I really feel, um, in short, uh, to recap in a slightly clearer version, uh, in the words of Heath Ledger—” At this point music blared abruptly from Oliver’s iPhone speakers as a backing track and I finished my sentence with a warbled I LOVE YOU BAAAABY and the entire chorus of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.” When I got to the end, I looked down, and right on time, Oliver handed me the old cassette player from our box of junk and a set of white A3-size cards. He scooted away and I braced myself. A couple of seconds later the water hit. Just out of Ruby’s eyeline he stood with a hose, sprinkling me as though it was raining. I pressed play on the cassette, and though I couldn’t hold it aloft, it played “In Your Eyes.” I flipped over my cards.

  I realize this is taking a long time now. So I have to do some combination grand gesturing here.

  I love the way you wear the kind of weird outfits you only see on Pinterest.

  I love the way you flip your hair back and forth when you’re nervous.

  I love the way you have no idea what you want to do with your life but everything that comes along is an option.

  I can’t think of any more, but that’s because I love the way you’re not just a random collection of quirky traits.

  I will stand on the front step for five minutes. If you accept my invitation to talk, please come downstairs.

  (No kiss required.)

  And then the last one.

  But if I’m being creepier than Lloyd Dobler then just say the word and I’ll leave.

  I held my breath and, soaking wet, I carefully slid down the bonnet of the car and hurried to stand on the front step of the house. Oliver pressed start on his phone’s stopwatch.

  4:59

  4:58

  4:57

  I took a deep breath with my eyes closed.

  4:40

  I didn’t have to wait as long as Drew Barrymore. The door opened. Ruby stood in the hallway with one hand on the door handle and one hand on her hip.

  “Did you memorize all of Hugh Grant’s ums from Four Weddings?” she said, her eyes narrowed.

  “I wrote a transcript.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “OK, then. We can talk.”

  Ruby and I sat on a bench in the back garden. A large deliberate gap between us.

  “Oliver, you can leave now,” I said, shooing him.

  “Oh, so you just want to use me for my hose and then kick me to the curb?”

  “Gross, no one is interested in your hose.”

  Oliver pantomimed stomping off like a scolded child.

  “So are you two friends now or . . . ?” Ruby smirked.

  “Friends. Allies. Enemies who have grown accustomed to one another.” I shrugged. “Who can say?”

  Then nothing. Or at least no talking. Bees buzzed, birds chirped, the grass became super interesting.

  “You asked to talk,” Ruby said after a moment. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “I do.” I picked paint chips off the weathered bench. “But I’m afraid when I finish talking it won’t be enough and I’ll have to go. I’m kind of stealing a few extra seconds with you.”

  I chanced a glance at Ruby, but her expression didn’t give much away. She wasn’t explicitly fuming, though, which I took as a good sign.

  “I know I put up all these boundaries between us,” I began, and I sat on my hands to stop from fidgeting. “I thought at the time it was healthy. That if I had these strict rules and I followed them then I wouldn’t get hurt. But I wasn’t very good at following the rules and I’m beginning to think that’s a good thing. I had a rule not to get involved with anyone who could potentially like me back and I broke it to hang out with you all summer. And the rule of only having fun with someone, well, I broke that too.”

  “You didn’t have fun with
me?” Ruby said dryly.

  “Er, no. That’s not what I mean. I mean nothing serious, no connection, no crying in bed when you leave. But it doesn’t work like that. I found myself thinking about you in a way that made me sad. I thought about how we couldn’t last. I thought doing the montage would be some kind of fun blip, but I started to think about life without you as something less than what it was with you in it.”

  “That’s how I was feeling too. Except when I started feeling that way it made me want to be closer to you, to share things with you, not to pull away.” She sounded angry, which was fair.

  “I know. You’re definitely smarter than I am. I thought if I didn’t do the things that you want to do when you feel close to someone, like tell them about your actual shitty life problems, then I could somehow keep the desire to be close away.”

  Ruby closed her eyes and looked like she was trying not to shake me because of how stupid I was.

  “The thing is that relationships don’t last forever,” I said. “Love doesn’t last forever. I’ve known that for a long time now.”

  “This is taking a bleak turn,” Ruby remarked.

  “I’m gonna pull it all together, I promise,” I said. “See, I think love isn’t this fixed thing that can beat all the odds. It fades or changes and it can twist into something else. So, I’ve believed for a while now that there was no point in being in love. Not if it’s all going to go away and leave you kind of broken. I thought it wasn’t worth my time. Especially if for me, time might be shorter than everyone else’s.”

  “What do you mean? Why would it be shorter?”

  I looked up at the sky, to give myself a second to gather my courage. It still felt unnatural to talk about these things with someone else. I thought about backtracking. Of saying something to get me out of this. But I knew that if I wanted to have something real, I had to say the thing I never wanted anyone to know. Maybe I was wrong to think that it had contributed to Hannah falling out of love with me. Maybe I was right and the pressure of everything ground us down in some way. But either way it was part of my life now and I had to tell Ruby the truth. The whole truth.