Time of My Life (22 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

‘What are you talking about?’ I stayed at the door, back pressed up against the metal while my mind ran through the various possibilities. The enduring emotion throughout all of the scenarios was anger. OK, I didn’t know Don Lockwood, he was a wrong number, but I had been honest with him when I had never been honest with anybody – myself included – definitely for the past two years, quite possibly in my entire life, and it doubly hurt that he had conned me. ‘Why would he take a photo of your eyes and send them to me?’

He was grinning broadly, laughing at a joke that I didn’t get. ‘No,
I
took the photo.
I
sent it to you. Lucy, I’m Don.’

‘No, you’re not, you’re Donal, your shirt says Donal.’ And a shirt wouldn’t lie. It couldn’t; it was a shirt.

‘My mother stitched this. She’s the only person in the world who calls me Donal. Lucy …’ He emphasised my name and smiled. ‘
Of course
, you’re such a Lucy.’

I stared at him, like that gaping fish again trying to figure it all out, then he took his cap off, ruffled his hair a bit self-consciously and looked at me. Then Bam! His eyes hit me, it was almost like a physical reaction, my head jerked back on my neck as if I’d been punched. They were the eyes I’d been staring at all week and there they were in the same room as me, moving, blinking, with a perfect nose and cute dimples beneath them. I don’t know if it’s possible for a human being to do this, but I melted.

‘You have me on your screen saver,’ he grinned proudly, waving my phone in the air.

‘I thought they were nice eyes. Not as nice as the ear, but nice.’

He turned his head to the side and proudly modelled his left ear.

I wolf-whistled and he laughed.

‘I knew it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I kept looking at you and I knew that I knew you. So it wasn’t a wrong number after all,’ he said.

‘Sometimes wrong numbers are the right numbers,’ I said mainly to myself, echoing Life’s earlier sentiments. I had thought he was being philosophical but for once he was being literal. I was still trying to figure it out. ‘But directory enquiries connected me to the company number, not your mobile.’

‘You called on a weekend. My dad doesn’t work weekends, so the office number gets diverted to my mobile phone.’

‘I’m so stupid. I heard pub noises and just assumed …’

‘You’re not stupid,’ he said softly. ‘You’re just an idiot.’

I laughed.

‘So we were texting each other right beside one another all day.’

I had to think about it. All that time I had hated the person at the other end of his phone and all that time that person had been me. The irony.

‘Which, by the way, was extremely unprofessional of you,’ I said.

‘Couldn’t help it. But you didn’t respond to my last text which, by the way, was extremely rude of you.’ He handed me back the phone.

I scrolled through and read the end of his last text:

–
But what I really really want? Is to meet you.

I thought about it, he was looking at me for an answer but instead of giving him one straight away, I texted him back:

–
OK. Meet you for a coffee in five minutes?

I put the phone down, ignored him and headed straight for the cupboard from which I removed two mugs, and the coffee granules.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, watching me.

I ignored him and continued. Then his phone beeped. I watched him from the corner of my eye. He read it. Texted. Sent. Then he didn’t look at me and just got straight back to work, removing the furniture from my bed and lining it up back in front of the TV. I watched him as I waited for the kettle to boil.

My phone beeped.

–
Just finishing work. See you in five.

I smiled. We went about our business in silence, me making the coffee, him putting the couch back together. Then when he was finished, he made his way over to the kitchen.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Don Lockwood.’ He held his hand out to greet me.

‘I know,’ I said, placing the coffee into it instead. ‘How was work?’

He looked down into his mug as though deciding whether to drink it or not and then he placed it down on the counter. Then he took my mug from my hands and placed it down beside his. And then he stepped closer, put his hand to my face – his fingers touched my face so tenderly – and he leaned in and kissed me. Not since I was twelve years old at the six-thirty-to-eight-thirty disco in my local leisure centre when Gerard Looney and I had slobbered all over each other for three consecutive slow songs without coming up for air, had I kissed someone for that length of time. But I couldn’t stop and I didn’t want to stop, so just for a change of scenery we automatically started working our way from the linoleum, to the brand spanking newly cleaned and slightly damp carpet, then our feet left the floor completely as we collapsed on the bed.

‘I have an idea for your infomercial,’ I said later that evening, lying on my side and leaning on my elbow to look at him. I continued in an advertiser’s voice. ‘We’ll take the dirt from your carpet and bring the filth to your bed. We’ll clean your carpets and seduce your wives while you’re at work.’

He laughed and joined in, ‘Want us to know if your curtains
really
match your rug?’

‘Uugh,’ I laughed, slapping him playfully. ‘Besides, I’ve no curtains.’

‘No,’ he said, looking at the curtain pole with amusement. ‘You haven’t much of a rug either.’

‘True,’ I smiled, and we laughed.

‘So,’ he said in a more serious tone, turning on to his side so that we were facing one another. ‘Tell me about life.’

I groaned. ‘This is very serious pillow talk.’

‘No, I don’t mean
your
life, I mean the guy who was in the apartment. Jesus, what do you think I am,
interested
in you?’

‘I should hope not,’ I laughed. ‘I was hoping you were just using me for my body.’

‘I am.’ He moved closer.

‘What do you know about this kind of thing?’

‘That Life contacts you and you have to meet them and make some changes. I read an interview with a woman in a magazine while I was at the dentist.’

‘Did she have an over-the-top blowdry and was standing beside a vase full of lemons and limes?’

He laughed. ‘I can’t remember the details. But she was happy afterwards, that’s what I remember.’ He studied me and I waited for him to ask me if I was unhappy the way everybody else did, but he didn’t, probably because I’d tensed up and was as stiff as an ironing board beside him. ‘I’ve never met anyone who’s actually met with their lives before. You’re the first.’

‘How proud I feel.’

‘Well, whatever about pride, you shouldn’t be embarrassed.’

I went quiet.

‘Are you embarrassed?’

‘Tell me a fart joke or something. This subject is too serious.’

‘I’ll go one better than that.’ I felt him move beside me, then a disgusting smell.

I couldn’t help but giggle. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anything for you.’ He kissed my forehead.

‘That’s very thoughtful of you. We’re practically married now.’

‘Nah, if we were married, I’d have wafted it.’

It was disgusting but I laughed, loved the closeness and the level of comfort with him, but I was worried. It had been a long time since I’d bedded a stunning man. It had been a long time since I’d slept with any man – a stockbroker who liked my tits ten months ago, but a longer time since a man like him who I’d truly felt at home with – and
never
had I brought a man back to my flat. Don had seen my world, he had entered my bubble that I’d created for nobody else but myself and though I’d enjoyed every second of it and hadn’t thought of Blake once, now as he was looking at me with the eyes that I felt belonged more on my phone screen saver and less in my bed, all I wanted was for him to leave. I thought I’d made a mistake. The adrenaline I’d felt when I’d discovered my true feelings for Blake mere hours earlier had returned. I was thinking of Jenna, Jenna the slut from Australia, and wondering if they lay like this together, naked and contorted, and it made my heart twist.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Yeah.’ I snapped out of it. I suddenly wanted to be alone again but it was dark, it was ten o’clock on a Sunday night, I wasn’t sure if he intended on staying over or if he was going to leap out of bed any second thanking me for my time.

‘Didn’t you say that you were late for an appointment earlier?’ I asked.

‘No, it’s okay, it’s not important now.’

‘I won’t take it personally,’ I said, perking up. ‘If there’s somewhere you have to be then please feel free to leave.’

‘I was supposed to have dinner with my parents but really you’ve done me a favour. Sex with a stranger is far more important.’

I tried to figure out another way to make him leave; wanting them to stay was usually enough.

‘What were you thinking about a few minutes ago?’

‘When?’

‘You know when.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘It’s just that, I lost you,’ he said tenderly, stroking my hair in a hypnotically relaxing rhythm. I battled to keep my eyes open. ‘You were right there, and then you were gone.’ He was speaking so gently, so melodically, that I was present again. He moved closer and kissed me.

‘Ah. There you are,’ he murmured, then kissed me more intensely.

And despite my inner emotional protestations and despite feeling torn inside about my love for Blake, my body couldn’t help but respond to him and I got lost all over again.

He didn’t snore. He slept so silently I barely knew he was there. His skin was warm, not blazing hot like Blake’s. He kept to his side of the bed, not a foot or a knee or an arm across the line. His skin smelled of marshmallows, tasted salty from sweat. And despite the fact that I lay there planning what to bring in my half-packed suitcase beside our strewn clothes on the floor, and working out what I would do and say when I met Blake, I reached out to the warm sheets and felt for his hand. The silent sweet-smelling sleeper opened his closed palm and wrapped it around mine. We held hands and I slept. Then Life came knocking, or in my case, let himself into my flat with his own set of keys.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I was woken by the clatter of keys on the kitchen counter. Don jumped beside me, startled, probably disoriented, and immediately sat up in bed, ready to defend.

‘It’s okay,’ I said groggily. ‘It’s just him.’

‘Who?’ he said, alarmed, as though there were a secret love I hadn’t told him about, which technically there was but that certain secret love would not be bursting into my flat with his own set of keys and singing ‘Earthsong’ by Michael Jackson.

‘My life,’ I said, trying to speak with my mouth closed to avoid travelling morning breath. I offered him an apologetic smile. For my life interrupting him, not for my breath.

‘At six a.m.?’ He looked at his watch.

‘He’s a twenty-four-seven kind of man.’

‘Right.’ He smiled. ‘Of course. Will he approve of this?’

Life had suddenly stopped singing and the rustles of plastic bags had stopped.

‘Do I hear talking?’ Life asked in a sing-song voice. ‘Do I hear the voice of a
man
in little Lucy’s bed?’

I rolled my eyes and ducked under the covers. Don chuckled and protected his modesty by pulling the sheet to above his waist.

‘Oh, Loo-ceee,’ my life sang, his voice getting louder as he got closer. ‘Have you been a naughty girl? Hey, it’s you,’ Life said, standing at the end of my bed. ‘Yes!’

I had to laugh as Life whooped with delight.

‘I take it you approve,’ Don said.

‘Approve? Of course I do. Does this mean she doesn’t have to pay for the carpets because if so, your plan worked, Lucy. You should have seen what she did to the window cleaner.’

I crawled up to the surface. ‘I didn’t sleep with him to pay for the carpets,’ I said, insulted, then turned to Don. ‘Though that would be a really lovely gesture, thank you so much, Don.’

Don laughed. Life sat at the edge of the bed. I kicked him off and he wandered away without a fight and then made his way back with a tray, which he placed on Don’s lap. ‘I didn’t know if you liked marmalade or jam or honey so I brought all three.’

‘What about me?’

‘Make your own.’

Don chuckled. ‘This is great. Do you do this for all of Lucy’s men?’

Life lay down on the end of the bed. ‘Don, there isn’t enough bread in the world for me to feed Lucy’s lovers.’

Don laughed.

‘This doesn’t bother you? Having him around?’ I asked, surprised.

‘He’s a part of you, isn’t he?’ Don responded, then handed me half of his toast.

Life raised his eyebrows at me. I wanted my life to go away, and as sweet and wonderful as he was, I wanted Don to go too. I had to go see a man about our love.

‘You look really rough right now,’ Life said to me, munching on some toast. He looked at Don understandingly. ‘You must be thinking
shit
right now, are you? It’s okay if you are, we both understand. She’s just not a morning person. She’s a little dodgy after one p.m. too.’

Don laughed. ‘I think she’s beautiful.’ He handed me more toast.

I was embarrassed. Life didn’t offer a comeback; instead he studied me.

‘Thanks,’ I said quietly, taking the toast, but my appetite was gone. He was all the right things at exactly the wrong time. The nicer he was, the more uncomfortable I felt.

‘So does this mean our little trip is cancelled?’ Life asked, picking up on my mood and putting me on the spot.

‘No,’ I replied awkwardly, angry he’d mentioned it in Don’s presence. ‘Can you please leave us alone now?’ I asked.

‘No,’ he said defiantly.

‘If you don’t leave us alone now, you’ll regret it.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘Yes.’

He took another bite of his toast, didn’t budge from the bed.

‘Fine,’ I said. I threw off the covers and walked butt naked to the bathroom leaving Life choking on his toast and Don whooping like a college boy.

I showered in the new light of my bathroom, feeling uncomfortable about my life and my one-night stand sitting outside together. I didn’t want the water to ever stop falling. My fingers were close to shrivelling and the bathroom was so full of steam I could barely see the door, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t face Don. I wanted the water to wash away the guilt, the confusion over my feelings for Blake, which – whatever they were – were making whatever feelings I’d had for Don the night before suddenly insignificant. As I was shampooing for the third time, I had a thought: what was making me so sure that Don wanted more from me? He might have been perfectly content with a one-night stand, so feeling hopeful, I perked up and turned off the water. They were quiet outside. I climbed out of the bath. The voices started again, low murmurs in which I couldn’t make out their words. I wiped the condensation from the mirror and stared at a red blotchy heat-rashed face.

I sighed.

‘Come on, Lucy,’ I whispered. ‘Just get this over with so you can get to Blake.’

But even at that idea I felt a slight dread. Again, I didn’t like what I had but I didn’t know what I wanted, so I was once again aimless. When I stepped out into the kitchen – fully dressed – they went quiet. They were sitting beside each other at the counter, drinking coffee and eating omelettes. They looked at me. Don’s eyes fluttered over me with a softness; Life gave me the once-over but didn’t seem overly impressed. Mr Pan looked up from the bed of shoes at the window and monitored me just as I would him if he’d pissed on the mail – as though he knew the bad thing that I had done.

‘Well, it was obvious you were talking about me,’ I said, making my way to the kettle.

‘I’m your life and he just slept with you, what else were we going to talk about? He gave you four out of ten, by the way.’

‘Don’t listen to him.’

‘I never do.’

‘There’s coffee in the pot,’ Life said.

‘You leave me some coffee but you don’t make me breakfast?’ I said to Life.

‘I didn’t make breakfast.’

‘Oh.’ I looked at Don.

‘It’s in the oven,’ he said. ‘Warming.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’ Very unusual behaviour for a man who never wanted to see me again, but still, I had hope. Rather self-consciously I opened the oven door.

‘Be careful, the plate’s hot,’ Don warned but my brain took a while to compute the meaning of his words and it was too late. My hand was stuck to the plate. I screeched. Don jumped off the stool and grabbed my hand.

‘Let me see,’ he said, his voice and face all concerned. Even through my excruciating pain I took a moment to take in his face, all dark and concerned and beautiful. But the pain, the pain overtook all cuteness. Don held my hand in his and guided me around the kitchen like he was Ratatouille. I ended up with my hand underneath the cold tap and Don wouldn’t let go of me, even when the water became too cold and I wanted to take it away. ‘You have to leave it there for at least five minutes, Lucy,’ he said sternly.

I opened my mouth but I decided not to object.

‘How did you do that?’ Life asked, impressed.

‘What?’

‘Make her not answer back.’

Don smiled briefly, then concentrated on my hand with that concerned look.

‘I think you’ll have to amputate,’ Life said, still sitting down and shovelling another forkful of egg into his mouth.

‘Thanks for your concern. This,’ I nodded at Don, ‘this is proper concern.’

‘He just slept with you, he has to pretend to respect you.’

He joked but I knew that my life was impressed and I could tell that he was happy. He was wearing a new suit, navy blue, which brought out the colour of his eyes, which had once been nondescript and were now strikingly blue. His cold had cleared up, leaving his nose less large looking, his teeth had been brushed, his breath was better and he looked good. He sounded happy; he teased me but with love. It should have made me happy too, but it concerned me. I was unsure. Something was wrong.

‘Why are you so dressed up?’ I asked him.

‘Because I’m meeting your parents this evening,’ he said.

Don looked at me, with sympathy I think, which I appreciated.

‘Actually, not just me.
We
are meeting your parents. I called your house yesterday and spoke to a lovely woman named Edith. She was very sweet and very excited that we were both coming to visit, she said she’d inform your parents immediately and prepare a special dinner.’

I think I had a mini panic attack. ‘Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?’

‘Yes. I returned your many calls from your mother for you, which you need to thank me for. Your mother needs you and you haven’t been there. She also needs you.’ He looked at Don. ‘There’s coffee on the carpet on the Persian rug in the drawing room.’ Life made a mock shock-horror face. ‘So I gave her your number.’

I was more angry over him giving my mum Don’s number than arranging a dinner. There I was trying to find ways to get rid of Don and already he was going to infiltrate my parents’ home. He would be the only man in the world apart from my life to be in both my home and theirs.

‘You don’t understand how unnecessary this is. You have no idea how much she doesn’t need me. She is perfectly capable of organising her own funeral without any help from anyone. As for my dad … Jesus, what have you done? He’s going to meet you? He will have nothing to say to you, absolutely nothing.’ I put my head in my only free hand and then realised Don was listening to everything so I removed my hand and acted as if I hadn’t said any of those things. ‘It looks nice out today, doesn’t it?’

Life shook his head at Don. Don, who was still holding my hand under the freezing cold water, did something with his entire
being,
without moving an inch or saying a word, but which let me know that he was there for me.

We stepped out into the chilly morning, colder because we stood in the shadow cast by my apartment building. Across the road in the park we could see sunlight, but no sun could reach where we were standing and my wrap-around dress whipped up around my thighs as the wind blew. My hands tried desperately to keep it down and though it was nothing he hadn’t seen before, it was different now.

‘Would you like a lift in my superhero car?’ Don asked casually but I could tell he was feeling uncomfortable. Not only was he embarrassed about his mode of transport but it was the morning after the night before, night had become day and he was still in the same clothes, and I was detached, and had been for the past half–hour. I wasn’t giving him very much to cling onto.

‘No thanks, I have to drive to my parents straight after work.’

Now for the awkward moment: did we shake hands, high-five or kiss goodbye? Mr Don Lockwood, thank you ever so much for the hot random spontaneous sex, it was truly a pleasure being acquainted with you and your private parts but really I must dash and tell my ex-boyfriend I still love him. Toodle-pips.

‘I have a day off tomorrow, if you’d like to meet up. Go for lunch. Or have coffee, or dinner or drinks.’

‘That’s a lot of options,’ I said awkwardly, trying to figure out how to say
none of the above
in a polite way. ‘I have to take a trip after work and I won’t be back until …’ I was going to say ‘late’ but maybe Blake would take me back then and there and I’d have to hire a removal van to pack up my flat and relocate to Bastardstown, Co. Wexford. That should have felt exciting, but it didn’t, because I loved my little flat and I didn’t want to ever leave it. Would Blake come and live with me in it? The Blake I once knew wouldn’t have been seen dead in a flat like that, there wasn’t enough surface in the kitchen for him to roll out the dough for his pizza base, and if he tossed it in the air it would get stuck in the strip lighting. We’d be battling for space on the curtain beam – he had as many clothes as I did – and he probably wouldn’t fit in the narrow bath, never mind the two of us like we used to do on Sunday evenings with a bottle of wine. I pictured Jenna wrapping her legs around his waist in the tub and my heart began pumping at top speed again. I got lost in my mind trying to figure out the logistics of my future with Blake in my new life while Don was looking at me.

‘Of course,’ he said, studying me a little too intensely for my liking. ‘You’re going to see your ex.’

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.

He cleared his throat. ‘It’s not much of my business but …’ And then he decided not to go there, maybe because I had looked away. His new tone surprised me; it was immediately distanced, a little bit hardened. ‘Okay, well, thanks for last night.’ I looked at him and he nodded and walked away. He waved at Life, Life waved back, and he got into his car, started up the engine. I didn’t want it to end like this, even though it had been me who had led it in this direction, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I didn’t want the outcome reversed, just how it came about, so I watched him drive away feeling like the biggest bitch in the world and then I headed to my car.

‘Hey.’ Life chased after me. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing happened.’

‘He just walked off, did you have a fight?’

‘No.’

‘Did he ask you out again?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘I can’t. We’re going away tomorrow.’

I put the key in the car door but it wouldn’t budge. I battled with it under Life’s stare.

‘We’re going there and back for the
evening
. You’ll be back again late tomorrow night.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘What do you mean, maybe?’

I was frustrated with the key, I was frustrated with my life and I snapped.

‘Tomorrow I am going to tell the love of my life that I am still in love with him. Do you think for one minute that I’m hoping I’ll be back by tomorrow night in order to go on a date with a man who drives a yellow van with a magic carpet on it?’

Life was momentarily stunned, then he took the key from my hand, turned it gently and the door opened. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

‘That’s it?’ I watched him walk around the car to the passenger side, cool, calm and collected.

He shrugged.

‘No lectures, no weird psychology, no metaphors, that’s it?’

‘Don’t worry, nothing speaks louder than a lifetime of regret and self-loathing.’ He got into the car and turned on the radio.