‘How can that be me?’ I look at Barbara.
She stares back at me, unblinking.
‘It’s not me. I’m not like that. It can’t be me. I won’t believe it. I won’t!’ I stammer and stutter my way through my words.
Barbara thrusts something at me. It’s a book. Her book. The pink romance Fabio-covered one from before.
‘What? I…’
I start to turn the book over to the front, but before I can she takes it from me, turns it over to the back again and thrusts once more. I look at it dumbly. She thrusts the book at me a third time and then points. The blurb, I realise. She wants me to read the blurb. Barbara makes a motion with one hand to her mouth. She wants me to read it out aloud.
I put my candle down on the floor, my hand shaking, and bring the book up closer to my face. I begin reading. ‘“When Liv and her partner, Mike, break up, and he returns to his ex-wife and child, Liv is distraught. Eventually she decides to date again, but quickly makes up her mind that men simply are not for her. She believes she is wasting her time dating man after man, and decides that she will stay single and wait until a decent male crosses her path. She tells herself that she will concentrate on developing her own interests and her potential business. However, instead of letting this new situation enrich her life, she starts to protect her independence too fiercely, and becomes blinded to the happiness new relationships and love could give her if she would only let people into her world. Can she overcome her fears and open her arms and heart to what life has to offer her? Only time will tell…”’
When I’m done, I slowly turn the book over so I can see the cover.
Fabio is gone.
Now, instead of being pink, the cover is grey and muted. There is a picture of a womanthe woman I’ve just come face to face within a darkened lounge room. Surrounded by cats. One last time I turn the book over. I stare at the blurb.
This is me? What my life’s become? I can’t believe it. I can’t.
I look up at Barbara again as the blurb, the cover, start to sink in for real. ‘This is me? It can’t…I can’t…’ I babble at her quietly. I point to the book and then down the hallway, where the woman has disappeared. ‘Me? My life? My work?’
Barbara nods.
‘No.’ I look back down at the blurb, the words hitting home. ‘It’s not right. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it. How can that be me?’
There’s a long, long pause as I stare at the book. I think about the couple in the café, with what must have been my studio brochure. I was the weird photographer. The freak. I think about the pawnshop and all the beautiful equipment. The beautiful equipment I obviously pawned. I think about the gorgeous little yellow studio. My studio. The one that Sally was talking about. I’d taken it. It was my studio. The studio I’d lost.
Me.
‘No…’ I start again, looking up at Barbara. I was going to say I couldn’t believe it for about the millionth timebut how can I not believe everything I’ve seen? And that connection. That connection I’d always felt with Mrs Batty-Smith. Tell me this isn’t it. What I’d felt all along. And now the ghost, Barbara, is showing me the future. This is the other part of the lesson James wanted me to learn. That the spirits all want me to learn. This is me. My future and…
Wait. Wait. I stop with this thought. Hang on a minute. Maybe I’m not just babbling here. Maybe I’m right. Maybe this doesn’t have to be my future. Maybe it doesn’t have to be like this. After all, if this really is my future, it can only be this wayI can only end up this wayif I take certain actions. Do certain things.
Right?
I move forward and grab Barbara by the arm. ‘This future? Is it changeable? Do my actions from nowin my real life, I meancan I change this? All of this?’
Barbara doesn’t say anything, but she looks away shiftily.
‘I need to know!’ I plead, practically begging now. I’d get down on my knees if I thought it would work. ‘Tell me!’ I bite my lip as I wait for an answer.
But she’s silent.
I let go of her arm and try to make some sense out of my thoughts, grabbing at ideas, my thoughts whirling. The future. My future. If it really is my future I must be able to change it. If I refuse to become like her, that creature, then I can’t become her, can I? If I move away from, instead of towards her life, then I can’t have her life. Like the newspaper, I think, stepping on a piece on the floor. If I never lay down a sheet of newspaper on my carpet there will never be any there. Or the dishes in the sink. If I do the dishes every day they can never pile up like that. Or the cats. If I never buy a cat…
Damn, I remember Betsy and Shu-shu.
But they don’t matter. I can cope with two cats. Two cats is normal. Normal people have two cats. Two I can deal with.
I must be right. I don’t care if this is a dream, or what it is. If I make a promise to myself now that I won’t take any of these steps, if I refuse to, then I won’t be like that. Like her. I’ll change. I will.
I won’t have her life.
I’ll change everything. I won’t be that woman the couple was talking about in the coffee shop. I won’t be the woman who pawned her equipment. I won’t be the woman who lost her beautiful studio. I won’t become bitter and twisted.
I won’t.
I look up at Barbara again. ‘I will change. I promise. From now. Right now. I understand what you’re trying to tell me. You and James and Tony and Mrs Batty-Smith. I’ll change. I’ll be…open to opportunities and new people and love and relationships and happiness. And everything. I’ll take chances. I’ll…’
Y Y Y Y
‘I’ll…jump in the deep end.’ I finish my sentence, as the loud beep, beep, beep of the clock radio on my bedside table wakes me up.
‘I’ll take chances. I’ll jump in the deep end,’ I repeat drowsily, not really knowing what I’m saying as I roll over and look at the time.
6:42.
Shit. Shit! 6:42? I sit straight up. I have to pick up Molly at seven, and it takes at least ten minutes to get there. The alarm must have been going for ages.
I swing my legs out of bed and start to get up, but something pushes me back. I frown as a voice comes into my head. For a moment, I struggle to hear it. Change. Something about change…
And then everything comes rushing back.
Mrs Batty-Smith.
Tony.
James.
Barbara.
My future self.
And finally my own wordsI will change. I promise. I’ll take chances. I’ll jump in the deep end.
Now I really do stand up. ‘I have to change,’ I say out loud, to no one. I spot myself side-on in the mirror and turn around fully. ‘I have to change,’ I say. ‘This is my last chance to change. My last chance to save myself.’ I take a step forward. And with that one step, that one look, I put it all together. ‘This is my last chance with Drew,’ I whisper, standing there staring at my lopsided pyjamas and troll-like hair.
My last chance with Drew.
This scares me so much I get goosebumps.
Because now I know what all the fuss I’ve been making about Valentine’s Day over the years has really been about. I know what the ghosts have been trying to make me see. What Justine has been trying to make me see. What Sally has been ever-so-quietly trying to point out. What Tania’s been pounding into my brain on a weekly basis.
I want the kind of relationship I had with Mike. But I’ve been protecting myself from the pain of a relationship ending by stopping it from getting anywhere in the first place. By thinking that it’s never going to happen again. By making myself believe that love and relationships will always be for other people. I’ve been stopping it from happening all by myself. No partner required.
And now I don’t want to stop it from happening with Drew. What I mean is, I want it to happen.
Quite a lot.
Finally I understand what everyone’s been going on about. What Dad’s been trying to say. And Rache
l. Everyone, in fact. Everyone close to me. Everyone involved in my life.
Especially Tony. I realise now that this is all Tony’s doing, reallywhizzing in and out of my life, in and out of my dreams, with his pink flashes. Without him I wouldn’t be standing here, thinking what I’m thinking right now. Without him, I might have just let Drew pass me by. He’s really gone all out for me. Cupid. Cupid has made a special case out of me. And if Cupid’s pulled out all the stops, showing me my past and my future, it must be right.
Wait…Hang on…
Maybe.
I pause as the finer details of last night’s escapade start to sift through my mind. I catch another glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes have turned into suspicious little slits.
Tony.
I remember the last ghost very clearly now. Barbara. The one who showed me myself. In my living room. With my cats. My future-to-be. I remember the story I’ve just finished readingDickens’s A Christmas Carol. I remember Scrooge and how, by the end of the story, he comes to love Christmas. Hmm. I think I may have been the victim of Cupid scare tactics.
Scaremongering for singletons. That’s what it is.
After all, do I really believe that if I don’t date Drew I’m going to turn into that thing…that walking cat treat I saw last night? That I’m going to lose my business and that gorgeous little studio and that brilliant camera equipment and have people talk about me in cafés like I’m a loon?
No.
No, I do not.
I shake my head.
‘Tony!’ I say out loud. ‘Wait till I get my hands…’
And then I see my expression in the mirror and start laughing. OK, so I might not believe all that Tony cooked up for my future last night, but you have to give it to the little manhe’s good. He knows how to hit where it hurts, and whatever methods he’s had to use to get me here, to this morning, to not hating Valentine’s Day any more and opening myself up to something happening with Drew, he used them for the right reasons and they worked.
Because as I stare into the mirror now I know beyond any doubt that, dodgy old cat lady or no dodgy old cat lady, this really is a chance I have to take. In fact, I’m so sure of what I have to do there’s no choice to make. I can’t let Drew pass me by. I can’t and I won’t. This time I’m going to follow through. I’m going to grab onto my chance and hold on tight. Like the choice my dad’s made by deciding to propose to Eileen. Like the choice that Rachel made in trusting Ryan. Like the chance Drew gave me with our fresh start…
Yes. This is it. I’m going to jump in the deep endhead-first and risking spinal injuries if I have to.
And I don’t know if I’ll be able to swim like a champion once I make the jump, but I do know that this is something I have to do.
OK. I’ll just stop here. I look back at myself slowly in the mirror, my forehead now well-lined. Have I gone completely nuts? What am I talking about? Do I really think this is for real? That Cupid exists? That he’s been hanging around giving my love life a helping hand?
How am I going to explain this one to Tania?
Time. 6:47 the clock reads. Holy crap! I really have to change nowmy clothes, I mean.
I whip into action, wrenching open my wardrobe door and picking out the first likely items of clothing I find that are clean and ironeda black cotton skirt and a short-sleeved red linen shirt. Then I race over to my dresser. I find a bra and start searching for my black undies.
I can’t find them. I glance over at the clock again. 6:49. I hunt faster. Harder. No undies. So I stop.
Fuck the undies. They don’t matter.
I have more important things to do this morning. And if I know guys like I think I know guys, my chances will probably be better without the undies anyway. Come to think of it, not being able to find my undies is probably Tony’s doing as well.
Stop it, Liv!
6:50!
No time for undieswell, OK, I lie. I settle for some pink onesit’s a reasonably short skirt, after all!and no time for a shower either. Instead, I grab my washcloth from its hook in my bathroom and birdbath over the sink. I scrub my face and my armpits, then run some water through my hair, brush it and pull it back into a ponytail. I slap on some tinted moisturiser, lipgloss and mascara, and hope that I look like I’ve made some kind of effort.
I race back into my room and pull my clothes on.
6:54.
Got to go. Got to go. If I don’t go now, I won’t have time.
Shoes. Shoes!
I find the pair I want at the bottom of my wardrobe and stumble out through my bedroom door as I try to put them on and walk at the same time.
Out in my clean, cat-free, newspaperless living room, I grab my handbag, keys, numerous camera bags (this morning I don’t even notice their weight on my shoulders), locate my sunnies and run, run, run out through the front door and down to the car. I put my gear into the boot and jump in.
The car starts first time.
‘I love you,’ I tell it as I back out of the garage. The fact that it’s never failed me before doesn’t cross my mind. I knew that if it was ever not going to start it would be now, but it hasn’t. It’s started. I love it. Today I love everything. I screech out of the driveway and speed off in the direction of Molly’s house.
6:56.
Every set of lights turns red as I approach, but I don’t care. I can’t stop smiling. My smile is back and this time I know it’s here to stay. At one set of red lights the guy next to me stares when he sees my expression. I wave and toot the horn at him when I drive off. Not a loud, obnoxious toot, but a happy, ‘see you around’ toot.
I’m three quarters of the way there when I see the first one.
I pull over with another screech, grab my wallet from my bag and jump out of the car. Maybe this Valentine’s Day it’s OK to spend a bit of money, considering all the other times I’ve bypassed the day. Anyway, what’s money for if you can’t spend it on the people you care about?
‘Um, three dozen, thanks,’ I tell the woman.
‘Sure, love. Do you want them all together?’
I nod. ‘That would be great.’
She moves over to her small portable table and starts wrapping.
I dance from one foot to the other on the spot, watching her, wanting her to go faster, to wrap like the wind. With nothing else to do, I fish around in my wallet for the money. I only have a hundred-dollar bill. I pass it to her as she puts the last piece of sticky tape on.
‘Oh, a hundred. I don’t know if I can change that yet. I’ll’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ I thrust the money at her. ‘Keep the change. I have to go…’ I race back over to the car, not giving a second thought to the lonely five cents left in my wallet.
7:03.
I’m late. Really, really late. I’ll have to pick up Molly firstbefore my other…transaction.
I race the rest of the way to her house and find her waiting outside on the footpath.
‘I was getting worried,’ she says when she opens the car door. ‘You’re never late and it’s’
‘Don’t remind me.’ I look at the time. ‘Just get in. I’ve got to make one more stop.’
Molly gives me a look. ‘At the hotel, I hope? We said we’d be there and making clicking noises by seven-thirty at the very latest.’
‘We’ll be there, we’ll be there,’ I say, doing a quick U-turn and heading back down the street.
‘Um, you’re going the wrong way.’
I ignore her and concentrate on turning the corner. Then I pull the car up again, grab my three dozen red roses from the back seat, hurl myself out of the car and sprint across the road.
‘Hey!’ Molly leans across the car and out of my open window. ‘What are you…? Where are you…?’
I keep running. Right up to Drew’s front door, where I press the buzzer. Then I press it again. Once more for luck. Then I start knocking.
Hard.
Finally I hear footsteps. And that�
�s right about when I begin to panic. What am I going to do? What am I going to say? What if Drew tells me to go jump? Me and my mood swings.
The door creaks.
Shit. Shit.
I whip around and look back down the path, over to the car. Should I run? Molly gives me a questioning look.
Too late.
The door opens fully and I turn back slowly to see Drew wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. His hair is standing on end; his eyes are bleary. He has looked better. But it doesn’t matter.
Because suddenly, strangely, in the instant I turn around, I remember exactly why I’m hereto make up for lost time.
Drew looks at me, waiting.
And I…Well…
I take my chance. I jump in the deep end.
I step up onto the doorstep and kiss him.
And, guess what? He doesn’t tell me, or my mood swings, to go jump. Instead, he kisses me back.
There’s a loud wolf whistle from Molly. ‘Way-hey!’ I hear.
I hardly notice it I’m having such a good time. For a top-of-the-morning, seven a.m. kiss, Drew doesn’t taste half bad either.
When I decide I’m done, I take a step down and hold out the roses. ‘These are for you,’ I say. Today, I don’t care if flowers are lame. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re allowed to make lame gestures on Valentine’s Day. In fact, it’s practically compulsory.
Drew takes the huge bunch from me, staring, his mouth hanging slightly open. He looks down at the flowers, then back up at me.
‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ I tell him. ‘I was supposed to be in a hotel room taking photos aboutoh, five minutes ago.’ I turn and start running off down the path. But I only get about halfway before I realise this just isn’t going to work. Right. I swivel on the spot and run back.
Drew hasn’t moved. He’s still standing there, staring, his mouth hanging slightly open.
‘Well?’ I reach down and grab his hand. ‘Are you coming or not?’ I begin to pull him away from the doorstep when I remember something. ‘Um, maybe you’d better get some clothes?’
‘Clothes?’ He glances away from me to look inside the house.
Hating Valentine's Day Page 24
