Right Girl

by Ellie O'Neill

  I reached out and touched her arm, shaking her slightly. ‘Mardi? Are you okay? Don’t ask your phone.’

  She shrugged lightly and blinked slowly, hanging her head low and staring at the floor.

  ‘You’re not, are you? Oh, Mardi.’ I heard the catch in my voice. I was aware of a surge of emotion swelling inside me. I stood up, unsure of what to do, and then, in my most practical fashion, I decided that coffee and biscuits were the only solution. I placed my hands on my hips. ‘I’ll get that coffee.’

  I moved purposefully into the spotless kitchen, the smell of bleach attacking my nostrils. I opened a cupboard and flicked the kettle on.

  I was appalled. Mardi was a complete zombie – what was going on? Where was she? Didn’t Colin mention that BBest had recommended anxiety medication? Is that what this was? She looked horrible. Was this really what happened when you didn’t do what BBest wanted you to do? Poor Colin. Poor Mardi. They were trapped. This was not a life.

  The doorbell rang, causing me to jump and slosh some water from the kettle onto my hand. I raced to the tap and sprayed cold water on it, watching the red patch subside and the sting freeze away as the water splashed over me.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ I shouted and hurried to the hall, unsure if Mardi had even heard the bell.

  I swung the front door open. I couldn’t believe my eyes. ‘Dad.’

  There he was in a pale blue shirt, a shoulder bag stretched across his chest, his blond hair turning white at the temples, and a giant smile on his tanned face. He looked as surprised to see me as I was him. He opened his arms wide and stepped into the door to smother me in a hug.

  ‘My girl. What are you doing here?’

  He smelled like Armani aftershave and laundry detergent. We broke apart and started to laugh.

  ‘I thought you were in the States?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I was, I am, officially. I’ve come straight from the airport.’ He moved into the house and down the hallway, looking around, preoccupied. ‘Let’s call this a flying visit.’

  ‘Granddad.’ Yelps of excitement came from the sitting room, followed by the sound of two tiny elephants. Harry and Hugo ran straight into Dad’s legs, causing him to stumble backwards and lean against the wall. He was laughing, bending down and rubbing their curly heads affectionately. They were jumping and squeezing him, while at the same time pushing and hitting each other.

  ‘Hang on, hang on.’ He looked over to me, his eyes filled with happiness. ‘Every time I go away I forget just how brilliant these two little guys are, and how much energy they have.’ He put his hands on their heads and pushed them away from him.

  ‘Let me look at you. You’ve gotten taller. Harry, you’re nearly able to wear my clothes now, I think.’

  ‘No way!’ Harry wriggled under Dad’s hand like he was dancing on an electric wire.

  ‘Are you driving yet, Hugo?’

  ‘I driving your car?’

  ‘Hold up, what’s this?’ He freed them and lifted his bag off his shoulders. ‘I think there is something for you in this bag.’

  They pounced on it like puppies on a bone and carried it into the kitchen, screaming at each other.

  Dad turned to me. His smile had dropped, his face turned serious. ‘Where is she?’

  I pointed towards the sitting room. ‘What’s happened, Dad?’

  ‘Colin has asked for my help. Why don’t you go look after those two?’ He straightened up, and I knew that was my signal to move away and give him some space.

  I was relieved that he was here. Colin had done the right thing contacting him. Mardi was not in a good place and it was obviously more than he could bear. Dad was a safe pair of hands, he always gave good advice. That was why we wanted him to help with Granddad, but they had too much history between them. A daughter-in-law was different, I supposed. Now he would help.

  He closed the door to the sitting room, and I heard a muffled conversation. I had great confidence in Dad’s abilities, he was very intuitive about people’s needs. I was sure he would be able to help Mardi, or at the very least just be able to understand what was happening here.

  He emerged half an hour later. I spied Mardi on the couch. She looked exhausted and her head was resting on a cushion, eyes closed.

  ‘I don’t think medication is the answer here. We’re going to have to look at alternatives. She might need a break, maybe some time away.’

  ‘Like a spa break?’ My hands were covered in poster paints that I really hoped were washable.

  He released a happy little snort, which was a relief to hear. ‘Maybe something a bit more intensive than that. I need to get in touch with BBest, there are programs . . .’ He trailed off.

  ‘Do you think you can straighten things out for her? Try to remove this crazy debt and stop them being first-option choosers?’

  Dad looked at me, a little shocked. ‘That would be counterproductive, Freya. BBest is trying to help her. She has to understand that things have gone wrong because she didn’t take their advice. You know you can’t fix a problem until you can understand it.’

  ‘But this is so harsh, Dad, this is cruel.’ I wanted to say more but something was stopping me, something about the hard line that was creased around Dad’s mouth, the intense look in his eyes, the defiant set of his jaw. I wanted to say: Wasn’t it possible that BBest wasn’t always right?

  He raised his eyebrows, and said something he had uttered to me many times in the past: ‘Actions have consequences.’

  ‘But these consequences, Dad, for not doing what you’re told, it’s just so . . .’

  I had always trusted Dad, so had Colin, that’s why he was here, but I was confused. Mardi was being punished unnecessarily. From what I could see, BBest had stepped across a virtual line. Maybe we all had, by allowing this to happen? We had relinquished our lives to our phones. Why couldn’t Dad see that it was possible that BBest was not a perfect system?

  31

  It was like a bolt of lightning. It was Mardi, it was Patrick, it was Granddad, it was me – it was mainly me. My heart knew it. And I couldn’t keep going like this, inching closer and closer to a wedding, hating myself, hating Mason. Being deceitful. I couldn’t do it anymore, I wouldn’t let myself become that person: a cheater, a liar, hateful. I needed to talk to Mason. I had to see if we could talk about this. But I didn’t even know where to start. How would I begin?

  BBest chose a café in the centre of town between our workplaces. A popular spot. We had arranged to meet for a thirty-minute lunch date. We were seated towards the back, side by side on a soft, well-worn couch with a stained and chipped coffee table in front of us. Mason’s arm stretched across the back of the couch and his fingers lightly caressed my shoulder. I didn’t want him to touch me. I needed to face this. The whole situation was like standing at an electric fence that I kept touching, zapping myself. This all had to stop now.

  And I had Granddad’s voice bouncing around in my head, telling me how you just know when you are with the right person, and I did, I just knew that Mason was not the right person and I needed to fix this.

  ‘A Mexican chicken panini?’ Mason asked.

  ‘I know,’ I said, a little high pitched. ‘BBest chose it, I would never have thought I would like this. I must.’

  ‘So what’s been happening?’ he asked enthusiastically.

  ‘Nothing much, same, same. I’ve a lot of work on. I have a really high-maintenance bride who keeps checking and double-checking and then her mother wants to check and double-check too. I even had a message from the groom. They’re driving me nuts. I’ve been invited to pitch for a hotel chain in a few weeks and that would be really exciting. I know I didn’t get around to the Excel sheet but I’ve had a lot on.’ I was babbling, words falling out of my mouth as I tried to piece together how I was going to approach this. And then I wondered if thirty minutes was enough time or too much time. What was the adequate amount of time required to end a relationship?

  His face suddenly hardened
into a look of aggression. It was disarming. ‘You’re doing really well, the business is going great for you, Freya.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I was a little taken aback.

  ‘You’re making good decisions. I feel that about you – that you’re upwardly mobile. Are you happy, Freya?’

  There was an intensity to his eyes that made me incredibly uncomfortable. It was as if he wasn’t really asking me a question but was accusing me of something. I wondered if this was my cue, if this was the entry point to say no and launch into a list of why. But no, true to form, I chickened out.

  ‘I suppose. Yeah.’ I bent down towards the table and took a giant bite of my panini, hopefully indicating the end of the conversation.

  ‘Good, good.’ He ran his hand over his shaved skull, something he did when he was anxious. ‘Because your life, it seems good. Does it feel good?’

  ‘Where is this coming from?’

  ‘Nowhere. I just want to make sure you’re happy.’

  I shrugged.

  He looked a little crestfallen. I wondered what he really wanted to say to me. Are you happy? It felt like a cop out. Was he building up to something else? Was he going to break up with me? That would be awesome. I could be the victim, everyone would feel so sorry for me. I fought the urge to smile; I could feel one twitching at the corner of my mouth. Maybe Mason had met someone else – it was increasingly looking like he had. I’d give back the engagement ring; I’d make a big deal about it; I’d be the bigger person.

  We both stared aimlessly around the café. The tinny beats of a pop song filled the awkward silence between us. I took a long, hard look at Mason, his clear, tanned skin, his defined cheekbones and full mouth, the blue shirt that I knew his mam had sent him in the post for his last birthday, and I knew, hand on heart, that he was a good guy, a nice guy, but he was not my guy. He was not the right guy for me, no matter what BBest said.

  ‘Is it okay?’ He tipped his head at my sandwich.

  ‘It’s delicious. Here, have a bite.’ I held the sandwich up to his mouth and he leaned forward, wriggled his eyebrows at me suggestively, gritted his teeth and made a sound like a lion roaring before he bit into it. It was so ridiculous I burst out laughing and all the awkwardness between us dissolved into thin air.

  ‘Oh my God, I might have to get one of those.’ He looked down sadly at his tuna salad. ‘Why wasn’t that recommended for me?’

  ‘You probably need the protein.’

  He sneered slightly.

  ‘Are you?’ I had drained my coffee and eaten half my sandwich.

  Mason’s eyes shone as he inched closer on the couch. ‘Am I what?’ He placed his hand on my thigh. It felt heavy and hot. I wished he would take it off.

  ‘Happy?’

  He recoiled like a slug that had been sprinkled with salt. He shrivelled up beside me. A guttural noise escaped from him.

  ‘Okay. I didn’t expect that kind of a reaction.’ I sat up straight, automatically tightening my knees together, forcing my shoulders down. I clenched my teeth and started to align the dishes on the table, focusing very hard on the empty coffee mug. ‘I guess that’s my answer.’

  He scratched his head and stared at the floor. A heartbeat passed between us and I held my breath expectantly.

  Then, in a small voice he responded, ‘I should be, right?’

  I nodded silently, hoping that he might continue. He did.

  ‘We’re not though, are we?’

  I said nothing, just shook my head, slightly aware of the powerful sense of relief that was washing over me.

  He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. He spoke to the floor. ‘We don’t work.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought, when we got engaged, went all the way, you know, that it would work out.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. He looked confused. ‘I mean, it doesn’t make sense, we’re ninety- three per cent, man.’

  The pop music seemed to get louder, the sounds of cups clinking from the barista’s coffee making filled my head. I realised that Mason was as confused as I was. I mean, it made sense: there was never anything easy or free flowing about us, so if I felt conversations between us were awkward, he must have too. It wasn’t just me who was conflicted.

  ‘Whatever’s missing is in that seven per cent,’ I said.

  He looked at me straight on for the first time. ‘I think you’re great.’

  I couldn’t help myself, I laughed. ‘You’re great too.’

  ‘We’re just not . . .’ And he shook his head lightly, grinning slightly.

  There was a smile in my voice. ‘No, we’re not.’

  I recognised that this was the first real conversation we had ever had, just the two of us being truthful to each other. It felt nice, but kind of ironic, seeing as this was a break up.

  ‘Do I frustrate the hell out of you?’ I asked.

  He wagged his head from side to side. ‘You can do, yeah, the way you make a joke out of everything. Some things aren’t funny.’

  I laughed and nodded, knowing it was true. ‘I can be a bit flippant, I guess, but with you, everything is serious,’ I said.

  ‘I suppose I see things differently. We don’t like the same things. You’d like to spend a weekend in a haunted house and I’d like to go on a rugby tour.’ He grinned.

  ‘We don’t have anything in common, do we?’

  He shook his head, looking mildly shocked. ‘Not even basic stuff.’

  ‘I hate the TV you watch,’ I admitted.

  ‘I don’t like your friends – except Cat, I like her.’

  ‘I hate that you finish off my shower gel and then you leave the empty bottle in the shower.’ Well, if we were being honest.

  ‘You never take your make-up off properly, so you leave stains on my sheets.’

  ‘This is good, isn’t it? It’s good to have an honest conversation?’

  ‘I don’t have proper feelings for you. Like, I know you’re great, I say I love you, but I don’t, not the way I should.’ Ooh, Mason was being really honest now.

  ‘Wow. I feel the same way.’ I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders.

  ‘I think if we worked properly, we wouldn’t mind all that shower gel shit and TV stuff about each other, we might even find it cute.’

  I was surprised at how well this break up was going. I would say that there was a distinct possibility that we might even remain friends, and that down the line he’d invite me to his wedding. We might even be godparents to each other’s children. This was going really well.

  He smiled. ‘We are opposite sides of a coin, aren’t we?’

  ‘We really are.’ I exhaled heavily.

  ‘It’s like we’re perfect on paper.’

  ‘That’s what I kept thinking because of the ninety-three per cent, like, on paper we’re amazing.’

  ‘But together, we’re probably more like a thirty-three per cent.’ A deep crease was etched in Mason’s forehead.

  ‘It’s so strange, isn’t it?’

  He straightened up and patted my leg lightly and in a cheery voice said, ‘We’ll get there, though.’

  I thought I spluttered out the word ‘what’. But I was in such shock, I wasn’t sure.

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ He smiled happily. ‘There’s probably just a couple of things we need to fix, there’s some BBest counselling we can do. We’ll be on track in no time, and ready for that wedding.’

  ‘What?’ I definitely said it this time, because a guy two tables over turned around and stared at me.

  ‘We’ll sort this out.’ He waved his hands between us.

  ‘No, no, no, no!’ I was up, hovering over the couch, shouting at him. ‘What are you talking about? We are breaking up! There is no “us”! The us is finished.’ I swiped at the air dramatically.

  He shook his head.

  ‘No! I’ve met someone else! I mean, I probably shouldn’t tell you like this but I have and we’re much better suited.’ I was panicking. This was not the right wa
y to tell him about the two-timing. Definitely not.

  He didn’t move. Three, maybe four breaths later, he turned and smiled but his eyes were dead, there wasn’t a flicker of emotion in them. ‘Are you crazy? There’s nobody better out there. We are perfect for each other.’

  ‘What?’ I was flapping my arms around like the fins of a fish out of water. ‘This is a break-up moment. We’re breaking up. Nicely. I thought we were doing this really maturely.’

  He covered his face with his hands, and I saw his shoulders rise and fall with deep breaths. ‘We can’t, Freya, we can’t break up.’ He looked up, his expression lost, his face pale. There was something different in his tone that caused me to stop. He looked defeated.

  I sat down beside him, the couch cushion collapsing underneath me. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean I’ve thought about this from literally every angle.’ He paused and chewed on his bottom lip. ‘No offence.’

  ‘Seriously? None taken.’

  He sighed deeply. ‘BBest have undisputedly given us our best option. We say no, we break up and reject that? There will be consequences.’

  I sank deeper into the couch, suddenly aware of the seriousness of what he was saying. I raised my hand to my mouth, slightly shocked.

  ‘I see it all the time with clients at work. People who reject BBest’s best options don’t come off well. Ever.’ He sounded worried.

  ‘That’s what’s happened with Mardi, she rejected them.’

  He nodded in agreement.

  I felt my throat growing tight. ‘What would happen? What would they do?’

  He paused and looked into the distance, lost. ‘I’m due for a promotion. My entire career trajectory is based on me being a first-option chooser, I change that and everything changes. My whole life, everything that I’ve worked so hard for, goes up in smoke. And you, Freya, the shop, your business, a future mortgage, credit rating, car loan. It would all change.’ He turned to me and he smiled, even though he still looked miserable. ‘I can’t let that happen.’

  I folded my arms across my chest and bit hard on the inside of my mouth to stop myself from screaming. ‘What do we do?’

  He reached across and took my hand in his. ‘We work on it.’