by Marian Keyes
The desk clerk followed this exchange with great interest. ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Can you ring Paul Garvan’s room for me, please?’
‘He checked out.’
My heart thumped hard. ‘When?’
‘About an hour ago.’
‘Where was he going?’
‘Home to Iowa.’
‘Right, thanks, I’ll get him at the airport.’
But when I turned around, Mum was blocking me. She drew herself up to her full height. ‘You are not to go after him!’
‘Don’t, pet, for me,’ Dad beseeched.
‘Margaret, you’re not to go!’
I stared at the two of them, stared long and confused, then said, ‘My name is Maggie and just watch me.’
As I raced back to the car, there was the clatter of feet running after me. It was Anna. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said breathlessly. She jumped in beside me, slammed the car door shut and pulled on her seatbelt. ‘Hit it!’
The journey seemed to take for ever, the traffic was very heavy for that time of night and, despite the spells Anna muttered, the stoplights were still against me.
‘What airline do you think he flew?’ I asked Anna, hoping for some sixth-sense action.
‘American Airlines?’
‘Maybe, unless he came through London, like I did.’
‘Maggie, what about the other girl?’
‘Gone.’
‘But will you be able to forgive him for it?’
‘Yeah, I think so. I hope so. The thing is, I wasn’t without fault either.’
‘And that makes it easier?’
‘Yes, I love him, we’ll work it out.’ Then I added, ‘Mind you, if he ever does it again, he is so dead.’
‘Good for you. I always thought you and him were perfect for each other.’
‘Did you?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘I have to say,’ I admitted, ‘there were times I had my doubts. I sometimes wondered if I was a wild girl who’d settled for a safe marriage.’
Anna sniggered and I gave an inquiring look. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just you… wild. Sorry.’
After a few seconds I said, ‘It’s OK. Because while I’ve been here I’ve tried being a bit wild and I just couldn’t take to it.’
‘Did you really get off with Lara or were you just winding Helen up?’
‘I really did.’
‘God Almighty’
‘But the point I’m making is I wasn’t playing it safe when I married Garv. This is the way I really am!’ ‘Plain yoghurt at room temperature?’
‘Um…’
‘Plain yoghurt at room temperature and proud of it?’
I thought about it. ‘How about plain yoghurt with raspberry puree at the bottom? I’d settle for that.’
‘More interesting than you initially seem?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Has hidden depths.’
‘Yes! I might even get a T-shirt saying it.’
‘Two. One for Garv as well.’
‘If we find him,’ I said, my stomach tightening with fear. ‘And if he doesn’t tell me to fuck off.’
We finally reached LAX, and after some more truly atrocious parking, we ran into Departures. But when I asked the American Airlines check-in girl if she could tell me if Garv was on the flight, she said, ‘I can’t give out that information.’
‘I’m his wife,’ I begged.
‘I don’t care if you’re the Dalai Lama.’
‘It’s urgent.’
‘So is my need to use the bathroom, but there’s nothing I can do about that either.’
‘Come on,’ Anna pulled me. ‘We’ll see if we can get him at the gate.’
LAX is huge and always crowded, no matter what time of the day or night it is. Panting, Anna and I ran through the throng, bouncing off people like pinballs. For a few frustrating minutes we got entangled in a flock of Hare Krishnas, and had to slow down to their pace, as they hopped and chanted. One of them even tried to give me a tambourine, before we managed to break free and begin sprinting again.
‘What’s he wearing?’ Anna gasped.
‘Jeans and a T-shirt. At least, that’s what he was wearing earlier – he might have changed.’
‘Is that him?’ Anna said and my heart nearly jumped out of my mouth. But the man she was pointing at was an African-American.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just saw jeans and T-shirt and jumped to conclusions.’
We raced in and out of all the shops and bars in Departures, and Garv was nowhere to be seen. The only place left to check was his actual gate, but without boarding cards we couldn’t get past the barrier and the woman official was so not interested in our story.
‘Security. You could be terrorists.’
‘Do we look like terrorists?’ I pleaded, hoping she’d see reason.
She snapped her gum a few times and drawled, ‘Yeah, you do.’
I stared at her, trying to psych her into giving in. She stared back, bland and unaffected, and with each empty second my hope dwindled away. But I wouldn’t give up.
‘Let’s check the shops and bars one more time.’ But there was no sign of him. Sweating, my heart pounding, my blood fizzing with awful hope, I skidded back and forth like a headless chicken, Anna doing her best to keep up, and I only stopped when I ran myself into exhaustion. Still I didn’t want to leave. ‘Let’s just hang around a bit and see if he comes.’
‘OK,’ Anna said, stretching and scanning like a meerkat on guard.
But when time passed and passed, I filled up with despair.
‘Come on,’ I eventually said. ‘We’re not going to find him. We might as well go.’
I drove home feeling like a waxwork model of myself. The streets and houses of Los Angeles disappeared and I was driving through a wasteland.
‘You can call him,’ Anna encouraged. ‘The minute he gets back to Ireland.’
‘Yeah,’ I mumbled, but a lump of cold terror was lodged in my stomach. I knew I’d left it too late. He’d come, I’d chosen Shay, he’d gone. I’d had my chance and blown it. The realization was like that moment on a plane when your ears pop and everything is clear again.
‘It was silly thinking I’d catch him at the airport,’ I said wretchedly. ‘That sort of thing only happens in movies.’
‘Starring Meg Ryan,’ Anna nodded gloomily.
‘He would have vaulted over the barrier.’
‘And everyone would have clapped and cheered.’
We both sighed and, in silence, continued the drive to nowhere.
For a long time I’d thought of my marriage as a horrible, dark place where I didn’t want to go. I hadn’t been able to remember anything good about it – but all of a sudden I could think of loads. Like, when we used to get ready to go out for the evening, Garv would appear before me in his Calvins and an ancient pair of cowboy boots and say, ‘I’m ready!’ And I’d frown and say, ‘You can’t go out like that. It’s cold, you need a jacket.’ Then I’d dot my foundation all over my face but not rub it in and he’d say, ‘Exquisite, my dear, you’re like a flower. But might I suggest a soupçon of lipstick.’ So I’d put a streak of red on my chin or forehead and he’d declare, ‘Perfecto!’ Then hand me the cotton wool to rub it off.
And Friday nights used to be lovely – we’d get a video and a takeaway (no change there) and lie on the couch and unwind after the week. And before the second miscarriage, Friday night had always been sex night too – that’s not to say we didn’t sometimes do it at other times, Sunday mornings could be nice – but Friday night was always a given. And even though, like I said, it was a long time since we’d had sex on the kitchen table, I’d had no complaints. It had been wonderful being with someone who knew my body almost as well as I did.
Then I remembered the way we used to do each other’s toothpaste. And how, whenever we went to the local Tex-Mex place, we used to share a basket of chicken wings as our starter, a basket of chicken wings for our m
ain course and a basket of chicken wings for dessert. And the time…
Memories, each one happier than the next, tumbled into my head and presented themselves for inspection and I had to put my fist into my mouth to stop myself bawling with loss. I’d often heard it said, but never thought it would apply to me –you never know what you have until it’s gone.
When we arrived back in Santa Monica, I’d no real idea of how I’d got us there.
‘Do you want to be dropped at the Ocean View?’ I asked Anna.
‘No, I’ll come to Emily’s with you.’
I shoved my key into the lock and half-fell into Emily’s front room – where so many people were sitting quietly that my first thought was, ‘Who’s dead?’ In a second I’d taken in Emily, Troy, Mike, Charmaine, Luis, Curtis, Ethan…
‘You got a guest, man,’ Ethan said coldly, indicating the person beside him. Who happened to be Garv.
‘I thought you’d gone back to Iowa.’ Surprise made me sound stupid.
‘Couldn’t get on the plane. I only had a stand-by ticket. How was your date?’
‘Short. Ludicrous. I went to the airport to try and catch you.’
My face was burning with emotion and everyone was staring, boring holes into me with their eyes. And was it my imagination or were they all clustered protectively around Garv – and sending me hostile vibes?
Emily stood up. ‘How about we give them some space?’ And after a brief, reluctant pause, everyone trotted meekly behind her towards the front door. As Curtis passed, he pointed to Garv and said angrily, ‘This guy’s a way better man than the jazzy dude with the toney wheels who gave you a ride home Friday night!’
‘How do you know about that?’ Emily asked.
‘He’s got a telescope,’ Luis said.
‘Ugh,’ Emily groaned.
‘This love thing, it’s not like a haircut,’ Luis leaned into me, as he left. ‘You fuck it up, it’s not going to grow back, right?’
‘Er, right.’
‘If it don’t come back, it was never yours,’ was Ethan’s contribution. ‘If it comes back, it’s yours to keep.’
‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Mike nodded meaningfully. He was right there – I’d wished for Shay.
‘Think of the snail,’ Charmaine said.
‘Huh?!’ several of them exclaimed.
‘The snail?’ I heard Emily query. ‘What’s that all about?’
Then everyone had left and Garv and I were alone.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked wearily.
‘You were right. I’m sorry’
‘Right about what?’
‘Shay Delaney. I was still sort of hung up on him – but I didn’t know about it, I swear. Not really’
Garv rubbed his eyes – he looked exhausted. ‘This is one time I’d have been happy to be wrong.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry’
‘I’m sorry too.’
The way he said it started alarm bells ringing; it was the wrong sort of ‘sorry’. It sounded final and defeated. ‘What for?’ I asked, too quickly.
‘Everything. For Karen. The awful months when we didn’t properly talk. For keeping my mouth shut about Delaney and hoping it would go away’
‘It has gone way.’ My breath was short. ‘I swear.’
‘Why did you come to the airport?’
‘Because… ‘How did I say it? How to encapsulate the shift where everything came into focus and Garv was centre? ‘I’d thought it was over with us, I really thought it was gone for ever. Then after seeing you today it all flared up again and every feeling was still there and I knew I’d always take the snail off your windscreen. And not off anyone else’s.’
I finished on a gasp and, as Garv said nothing, my nerves stretched to the limit. I felt like a prisoner waiting to hear the verdict of the jury.
‘Let me put it another way,’ I tried. ‘I love you.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes, honestly. I mean, of course – would I have gone to the airport and tried to be Meg Ryan otherwise?’
And he surprised me by saying, ‘The flight wasn’t really full – I just said it to try to hold on to the last shred of my self-respect. I got to the airport and thought it was stupid to come all this way and give up so soon.’ He shrugged. ‘I came back to give it one more go with you.’
‘Oh. Oh. Well. Great! Why?’
He looked away to one side as he thought about it, then laughed softly and faced me. ‘Because you’re my favourite.’
‘Well, you’re my favourite.’
‘Make up your own compliments.’
‘Sorry. OK. I love you.’
‘I love you.’
‘Now you’re at it.’
‘That’s because I’ve very little imagination.’
‘That makes two of us. We’ve a lot in common.’
‘Yeah.’
‘What would you have done,’ I asked cautiously, ‘if I hadn’t come home? If I had… you know… stayed with Shay?’
‘Dunno. Gone mad. Started eating lightbulbs.’
‘Well I didn’t, so the lightbulbs are safe.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yeah,’ I swallowed. And all of a sudden, the way he was looking at me made me nervous and shy. ‘So… um… what happens now?’
‘Well, we’re in Hollywood,’ he said, taking a step closer to me, ‘So… ah… we could drive a car off a cliff?’
‘Or run down a hill in slow motion?’ I shifted nearer until I was close enough to get his delicious Garv smell.
‘Or I could take you in my arms and kiss you until the room starts spinning around.’
‘I like the sound of the kissing,’
I said, barely above a whisper.
‘Me too.’ So we did.
Epilogue
A week later, Larry Savage got the sack from Empire – just came in one morning and without explanation was told to clear his desk, then was escorted off the lot. Par for the course if you’re a movie executive, they say. Emily’s script is languishing on a shelf at Empire and the story of Chip the wonder dog looks likely never to be told. Which would have been a blessing, Emily said, except it also meant she only got paid half of her fee. So great was her fear of turning into the man shouting outside the supermarket that she resolved to get out of the scriptwriting game altogether. But Troy put an end to that by getting financing for an independent production of her newest script. Apparently, it’s brilliant, really dark – Emily says it’s thanks to the fact that she was so depressed and scared while writing it. Some producer from another small studio is interested in reviving Hostage! And one way and another, the wolf is being kept from the door, even if Mrs Emily still hasn’t had a chance to wear her navy, spangledy dress to a première. However, she might get a chance to wear it in the near future. Not to a film première, but to a wedding – Emily and Troy’s. I will admit to having had my doubts over Troy’s fidelity, but since Emily hooked up with him, he’s been a model of good behaviour.
Lou half-heartedly stalked Emily for a couple of weeks, then gave up, but when Kirsty heard about Troy and Emily, she turned to food. Apparently she put on fifteen pounds in as many days. I’d laugh, except it would be mean.
Lara continues to be a great big golden ball of fun. She hasn’t yet found the right girl, but is having a fantastic time looking. Justin is still living a shut-down life with Desiree, but things picked up recently for him when the other expendable fat guy contracted glandular fever and lost a ton of weight.
Reza kicked her husband out and told him to go and live with ‘his whore’. He was back within the week, prostrating himself with contrition.
The poor mad scriptwriter is still hanging around the supermarket shouting set directions at the people buying their groceries.
Luis’s little problem cleared up on the second lot of antibiotics. Himself, Ethan and Curtis finished college, shaved off their goatees, grew their hair (those who were in the habit of shaving their heads) and got
respectable. The Dukes of Hazzardmobile was sent to the wrecker’s yard.
Charmaine and Mike are still Charmaine and Mike. Before I left, Charmaine told me my aura wasn’t as toxic as it had been. Occasionally the fable-telling group ring Mum and ask her to come back. She sent them a copy of The Tales of Finn McCool and hopes that they’ll now leave her in peace.
Connie got married and didn’t get kidnapped on honeymoon.
Helen, to everyone’s astonishment, really did set up a private-detective agency when she returned to Ireland. She specializes in ‘domestics’ – i.e., she traps cheating spouses – and she’s kept busy. Anna got on so well in her new job that they promoted her from the bowels of the post room to the bright lights of the front desk. She no longer mentions Shane and apparently she gets the occasional e-mail from Ethan. Sometimes, to upset Mum, she says he’s going to come and visit as soon as he gets time off.
Dad’s neck is better now. So are my relations with him. It took a while, and even longer with my mother.
Dark Star Productions went to the wall, but Shay already has a high-flying new job in another film company. As Claire said – almost admiringly – when she heard, ‘There he goes again. Falling into a pit of shite and coming out smelling of Paloma Picasso.’
I was watching telly the other day and it was previewing a glossy new drama series from America, when I saw someone who looked familiar. It took me a moment; he was a lot more shiny and packaged than the last time I’d seen him. ‘It’s Rudy!’ I yelped. ‘It’s the ice-cream seller from the beach in Santa Monica. I used to buy Klondike bars off him.’ No one believed me, of course.
Is that everyone? Oh, me. I’m in bed, unable to move, on account of being eight months pregnant and huge. I haven’t seen my toes for weeks and once I lie on my back, I can’t turn over or get up without Garv sliding a stick in under me and leaning on it. I’ve promised Helen that I’ll tell her how agonizing the birth is and that I won’t fob her off with any talk of miracles.
Garv and I are very together. It hasn’t always been easy; we’ve had the occasional shout at each other as we’ve ironed everything out, but, at this stage, we’re sure our bond is strong enough to survive the blips. Even though we were separated and angry with one another, we were still linked.
