Something Like Happy
Page 33
“Don’t say his name,” he muttered.
“Polly wouldn’t want you to quit, for God’s sake. Aren’t there other people who need you? Cute kids? Helpless old ladies with large, loving families?”
“Annie. Did you come all this way just to make me feel bad?”
“Who says I even came for you? I do have family up here, you know.”
She felt him turn to her. “You’re going to see them? Morag and Sarah?”
“Well. Probably. Dad left me a bit of money apparently. Not that I really feel entitled to it.”
He made a noise of irritation. “Annie, for the love of Christ. You didn’t get a penny from him all your life. Don’t be your own worst enemy. Go and see them.”
“I know, I will. Maybe. It depends.”
“On what?”
“Er, how the rest of this conversation goes?”
“Hmph. How did you hope it would go?”
Annie realized she didn’t know. “I hoped you’d stop being mad at me. And come back, maybe. I don’t know. If you want to.” She sucked in all her breath. Damn you, Polly. Goddamn deathbed promises. “I hoped to just see you because I really, really miss you.”
For a long time, they just stared ahead, into the dark. She shivered. “Cold?” Without asking, he put his arm around her shoulders. He was so warm, so big, the heat of him radiating out from his smelly old Barbour jacket. Annie leaned in.
“Oh, Annie Clarke.” He sighed. “What are we going to do now? Now she’s gone? I mean, what’s next—a hundred miserable days? A hundred days of feeling crap? A hundred days of back to normal, and sleeping in the doctors’ lounge and getting my hand stuck in the vending machine?”
She rested into him, feeling the beat of his heart through the seventeen layers of clothes she had on. “How about a hundred days of doing our best to be alive—even if it’s sad, or ordinary, and we want to cry most of the time? That’s what living is, I think. Letting it all in. The happy days, the sad days, the angry days. Being awake to it.”
“You’re starting to sound like one of her motivational books.”
“Well, it’s your fault. With you gone, there’s no one to be grouchy and tell me all my ideas are doing more harm than good. Costas is no use—he’s all sunshine and rainbows. And George is going that way, too. Very sad to see a bitchy young man cut down in his prime.”
“Sounds like things are worse than I thought down there,” he said. “You’ll all be cleansing your chakras soon.”
“Maybe you should come back,” she risked. He said nothing. “Please come back,” she said, almost whispering. “We need you. I—I need you.”
His hand was stroking her neck, very gently. Annie could hardly breathe. How had she ended up here, freezing on the side of a mountain with a grouchy neurologist, her entire life hanging on what he said next?
“You said I tried to kiss you,” he said. “Were you—was that a suggestion I should try again?”
Annie said nothing. She reached up and took the hand that was around her neck, squeezed it. She’d almost lost all feeling in hers. “Max.”
“You’ve never called me that before. Och, here, you’re freezing, lass.”
Lass. She thought she might melt, if she wasn’t so cold. “Maybe we can go inside?”
“Just a wee minute. You didn’t think I was sitting out here for no good reason? Did you think I’d lost my wits, was that it?”
“Er...”
“Annie. You’re going to have to start thinking the best of me. I’m not your ex-fella who ran off with your friend, the scutter. I’m me. And look.” He pointed to the sky, which had turned an unusual shade. Like green lights were being shone on it. Like the luminescence from a large town, except there was no town anywhere near.
“Is that...?”
“Aye. I told you, you can often see them up here.”
“She missed them. She bloody missed them.”
She felt him smile as she rested her back against him, and together they watched the northern lights flicker and shimmer, all the colors of the rainbow. Purples and pinks and greens and blues, shining and shifting and the most beautiful thing Annie had ever seen. Unique. All-consuming. Like Polly. He said, “One of your motivational books might say she’s like that now. Far away. Shining.”
Annie tutted. “God veto, Max.”
“Fair enough. But it’s lovely, no?”
“It’s lovely.”
“So there’s still that, even if everything is shite and depressing and people are dying all over the show. We’re here now—admittedly with frozen arses—but we’re here, watching this, and we’re alive. Is that enough for you?”
Annie felt his arms around her, holding her close, just the two of them under the vast ceiling of the sky, the stars sending their light from so far away, even after they were dead and dark and gone. They still shone. Polly would shine, too, as long as they remembered her. Annie was here. There was no one like her on the whole of the planet, no one who had ever lived or ever would. There was not a single other person with her fingerprints, with the memories she carried in the tangle of meat and nerves that was her brain, no one with the blood beating in her veins. She was herself, and she was alive right now, despite everything. And so was he. “Yes,” she said. “It’s enough.”
* * * * *
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading Something Like Happy. I started writing this book because I was intrigued by the “100 happy days” concept that was flooding my Facebook feed. Usually, I would roll my eyes at such things and dry-heave a bit whenever I saw #blessed hashtags on my social media. I’m not a naturally positive person—I grew up in Northern Ireland, for one thing, and we love a bit of misery. But something about this idea made me think. Was it really possible to make yourself happy, just by noticing the good things in your life every day? Can you drag yourself up from the bottom and start again?
There’ve been times in my life when, like Annie in the book, I felt I had hit rock bottom. When I was twenty-four I was diagnosed with cancer, like Polly. Luckily it was caught early and I recovered fully, but I found it hard to restart my life. Later, I found myself broke and homeless after my marriage broke down—I even got hit by a car, as well! (Luckily I was okay.) Both times I realized that doing happy things did make me feel better. Going to dance classes, taking a trip to the beach, even just baking a cake. So yes, I think it is possible to find happiness and hope again, even in the darkest days. There are always good things in the world.
I hope that, if you are going through a tough time, you might be able to find the same. Thanks for reading, and I would love to hear your thoughts on the book, or if you’ve been through something similar. My website is www.evawoodsauthor.com and I’m on Twitter, too, as @inkstainsclaire.
Eva xx
Acknowledgments
An awful lot of people are involved in taking a book from a random idea someone has on a train to the beautiful published thing you see before you. First, I need to thank my wonderful agent Diana Beaumont, who always steers me right when I’m a bit lost with a book, and pushes me to go the extra “10%,” especially when I don’t think I can. Sasha Raskin in New York has also done an amazing job with overseas rights, and it’s so thrilling to know this book will be published in different languages. Thanks as well to everyone at UTA and Marjacq for their support in getting the book off the ground.
This book is my first time being published on both sides of the Atlantic, and it has been a fantastic experience. Thanks to everyone at both Sphere and Harlequin U.S./Graydon House, especially Margo Lipschultz and Maddie West for their enthusiastic, clear-sighted edits. And huge thanks as well to everyone who has been involved in copy edits, cover design, marketing, publicity, and more—it’s truly overwhelming to s
ee the support for the book.
I’m fortunate to have many wonderful writing and nonwriting friends, who have helped me at every step of the process. I wish you all, and my family too, hundreds of happy days. Finally, this book is dedicated to Scott, who has accompanied me on many a happy day, mostly involving cake. Sorry for making you go to Scotland in February and forcing you to go skiing in a blizzard.
This (and every) book would be nothing without readers, so the biggest thank-you must go to you if you’ve picked up this book—I hope you’ve enjoyed it. If so, I’d love to hear from you. I’m on Twitter @inkstainsclaire, Instagram @evawoodsauthor, and online at www.evawoodsauthor.com. Drop me a line!
Lots of love,
Eva x
ISBN-13: 9781488026072
Something Like Happy
Copyright © 2017 by Claire McGowan
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