by Marian Keyes
“Does it mean I have to get off the couch?”
“Oh, I see the problem,” he said. “Would you like a pizza?”
“And garlic bread?” I asked hopefully.
“With cheese?” he asked smoothly.
What a man!
He opened a drawer on one of his fancy shelf units and took out mounds of pizza leaflets and brochures.
“Have a look through these and decide what you want.”
“Do I have to?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“But then how will I know about the different types?”
So he read aloud to me of pizzas.
“Thin crust or deep crust?”
“Thin crust.”
“Normal or whole wheat?”
“Normal! Whole wheat—what a disgusting idea.”
“Small, medium or large?”
“Small.”
He was silent.
“All right then, medium.”
Once the food order was established, conversation stopped again.
We watched TV, we ate, we barely spoke. I couldn’t remember feeling as happy in ages. Not that this was saying much, considering that I’d been suicidal for weeks.
During the evening the phone rang twice, but when Daniel answered it, the person hung up. I suspected that it was probably one of his hundreds of ex-girlfriends. Which made me feel uncomfortable, because it reminded me of when I used to do that to men who had broken my heart. If Gus had had a phone I’d probably have done it about ten times a day.
Later, Daniel drove me home. I insisted that he drop me at the traffic lights.
“No,” he said. “You’ll get soaked.”
“Please, Daniel,” I begged. “I’m afraid that Karen will see your car.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“She’ll make my life a misery.”
“We have every right to see each other.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But I’m the one who has to live with her. You wouldn’t be so brave if she was your roommate.”
“I’ll come in with you and I’ll deal with her,” he threatened.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed. “That would be awful. Look,” I said, more calmly. “I’ll talk to her, it’ll be okay.”
Chapter 58
As I ran along the puddled road, the rain pelting down on me, I agonized about what I would say to Karen when she asked me where I’d been. The easiest thing would be to lie, of course, except that she was bound to know I was lying.
And, anyway, why should I lie? I hadn’t done anything wrong, I told myself. I had every right to see Daniel, he was my friend, he had been my friend for years, long before he had ever met Karen, long before I met Karen, for that matter. It all sounded terribly reasonable when I said it like that.
But as soon as I put my key in the door, my courage deserted me.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Karen was waiting for me, her face like thunder, an ashtray a yard high on the table in front of her.
“Er…”
I would have quite happily lied but it was obvious that she knew.
How did she know? Who told her?
I found out later from Charlotte that it was Adrian. After the pub had shut, Karen and Charlotte decided to get a video to kill a couple of Sunday afternoon hours and Adrian asked them about “the guy in the expensive car” who had picked me up.
“Adrian looked like he was going to cry,” said Charlotte. “I think he likes you.”
My fault of course. If I had met Daniel at my apartment, instead of engaging in subterfuge, I wouldn’t have been found out. Honesty was the best policy. Either that or covering my tracks properly.
“So what’s going on?” she demanded, in a shrill voice. Her face was really pale except for two red blotchy patches on her cheeks. She looked demented with fury or nerves or something.
“Nothing’s going on,” I said, anxious to reassure her. Not just out of concern for my personal safety, but because I knew what a living hell it is when you suspect that the man you love has found someone else.
“Don’t give me that.”
“Really, Karen, I just went over to his flat. It was totally innocent.”
“Innocent! Nothing that man does is innocent. And do you know who told me that—it was you, Lucy Sullivan.”
“It’s different with me…”
She laughed bitterly. “Oh no, it’s not, Lucy, don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m not…”
“Yes, you are. That’s the way he operates—he made me feel like the only girl in the world.”
“I don’t mean that, Karen. I mean, it’s different because he doesn’t like me that way and I don’t like him that way. We’re just friends.”
“Don’t be so naïve. Anyway, I’ve always been suspicious of how you’ve always made far too much of a point of how you didn’t think of him as gorgeous.”
“I was only being the voice of reason…”
“…and he wouldn’t be bothered spending time with you if he didn’t intend to get you into the sack—he can’t resist a challenge. He’ll try to seduce you just because you act like you don’t want to.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
“And is it true that he let you drive his car?”
“Yes.”
“The bastard—he never let me. In six months he never once let me.”
“But you can’t drive.”
“Well, he could have taught me, couldn’t he? If he had any decency he would have given me driving lessons.”
“Er…”
“So is he going out with someone else yet?” she asked, her face twisting as she tried to smile.
“I don’t think so,” I said soothingly. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” she sneered. “Why would I be worried? After all, I broke up with him.”
“Of course.” It was hard to figure out the right thing to say.
“How can you be so pathetic?” she demanded. “Find your own guy, stop satisfying yourself with my leavings.”
Before I could defend myself against that she moved on to a different accusation.
“And how could you be so disloyal, how would you feel if I went out with Gus?”
“I’m sorry.” I was humbled. She was right and I felt ashamed, a traitor.
“You’re not to see him again, you’re not to bring my ex-boyfriend into my own home.”
“But I wouldn’t.” I had thought I was being sensitive and mindful of her feelings, but she made me sound callous and selfish.
“And I suppose he talked all about me…”
I didn’t know what to say—I was afraid I would hurt her if I said that he hadn’t.
“…Well, I don’t want him to know anything. How can I have any privacy, with my roommate going out with my ex?”
“It isn’t like that.”
I felt torn apart with guilt and remorse. I hated myself for causing her pain, and I couldn’t understand how it had ever seemed justifiable to do it.
Then came the thunderbolt.
“I forbid you to see him.” She stared me right in the eye.
That was my cue to square my shoulders and swallow hard and tell her that she had no right to forbid me to see anyone.
But I didn’t.
I felt too guilty to stand up to her. I had no right to. I was a bad friend, a bad roommate, a bad human being. I wanted to make it all right. I didn’t think what it would be like if I didn’t see Daniel because I wanted to make things up to Karen.
“Okay.” I bowed my head and left the room.
Chapter 59
I went out with Daniel the following night—I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. I knew I was forbidden to see Daniel, and I was terrified of Karen, petrified.
But when he called and asked if he could take me for something to eat after work, for some reason I decided to say yes. Probably just because it had been so long si
nce someone had taken me out and fed me. Although perhaps it was a form of rebellion, I thought, albeit a secretive, private form.
Just before Daniel arrived at my office I decided to reapply my makeup—even though it was only him I was going out with, a night out was a night out and I never knew who I might meet. But as I wobbled on my eyeliner I was alarmed to discover that I felt a bit fluttery and shaky. Surely to God I wasn’t attracted to Daniel, I thought in horror. Then I realized that it was just good plain old-fashioned fear. Fear of Karen and what she’d do to me if she ever found out. What a relief! How much better it was to feel sick with terror, not sick with anticipation.
When Daniel walked into my office at five o’clock (wearing his Visitor’s pass; Daniel would never do a Gus) I was so pleased to see him, even though he was wearing his suit, that I felt a lurch of self-righteous anger toward Karen. I even toyed with the idea that I might confront her. Although not seriously.
“We’re going to the pub before our dinner,” I said to Meredia, Megan and Jed. “You’re welcome to join us.”
But they declined. Meredia and Jed wore their “He’s not Gus” faces, and watched me with narrowed, judgmental eyes as I put on my coat. Mummy had a new boyfriend; they wanted Mummy to be with Daddy.
Stupid fuckers.
Mummy wanted to be with Daddy also, but what could Mummy do about it? Would refusing a free meal from Daniel bring Gus rushing back?
Megan declined by cheerfully telling Daniel, “Thanks for the offer, and I hope you will be offended if I decline—I’m not in the mood for a smoothie like you. I’ve got a date with a real man.”
Like me, Megan felt the need to punish Daniel for being good-looking and turning intelligent women to mush. All the same, that sounded a bit harsh. And who was this real man of whom she boasted? Probably one of the giant sheep shearers, who hadn’t shaved for days or changed his underpants in as long.
So Daniel and I went to the pub alone.
“Karen called me,” he said, as we sat down.
“Oh.” I felt a belly-flop of alarm. “What did she want?”
Were they going to get back together?
“She told me to keep away from you,” he said.
I exploded in relief. “And what did you say?”
“I said that we’re both adults and we can do what we like.”
“What did you have to go and say that for?” I wailed.
“But why not?”
“It’s okay for you to be an adult and to do what you like—you don’t have to live with her. If I try to be an adult and do what I like, she’ll kill me.”
“But…”
“So what did she say to that?” I asked him.
“She sounded annoyed with me.”
“How do you mean?” My heart sank.
“She said—let me see if I can remember exactly what she said—she said that I was awful in bed. And, of course, she told me that my penis was one of the smallest she’d ever seen.”
“Naturally,” I agreed.
“And that the only time she’d seen a smaller one was on her two-month-old nephew and it was no wonder I’d had so many girlfriends because it was obvious I was trying to prove that I was a man.”
All the usual small member allegations that were par for the course from a woman scorned, but there was a danger that Daniel could be upset by Karen’s version of the No Fury That Hell Hath. From the way he grinned, he didn’t look upset.
“And what else did she scream at me?” He stared thoughtfully. “I wish I could remember because it was really good, but I can ask everyone else in the office because they heard it too.”
“I thought you said she called you.” I was puzzled.
“She did call me. But everyone in the office still heard. Oh I remember—she swears she saw two grey ones in my pubic hair and that she only went out with me because I drove her to work most mornings and saved her having to pay for the train, and that my hair is thinning at the back of my head and I’ll be bald by the time I’m thirty-five and no girl will go near me.”
“The bitch!” I said. “And what nasty stuff did she say about me?” I tried to brace myself.
“Nothing.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He was lying. When Karen was inflamed, she attacked indiscriminately.
“I don’t believe you, Daniel. What did she say?”
“Nothing, Lucy.”
“I know you’re lying. I bet she told you that sometimes I stuff my bra with cotton balls.”
“She did but I knew that anyway.”
“How?! No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. Okay, I bet she told you that she guesses I must be hopeless in bed because I’m too inhibited. She knows that would upset me.”
Daniel looked mortified.
“Was that it?” I demanded.
“Something like that,” he muttered.
“Exactly what did she say?!”
“She said we’d be well matched, because we’re probably as bad as each other in bed,” he admitted.
“The fucking bitch,” I said in admiration. “She’s so good at knowing what hurts most. But she didn’t mean what she said about you,” I continued, anxious to reassure him. “She always told me that you were great in bed, and that your penis is lovely and big.”
The two construction workers at the next table stared at us with open interest.
“Thanks, Lucy,” Daniel said warmly. “And I have it on good authority that you’re good in bed, also.”
“Gerry Baker?” I asked. Gerry Baker was a colleague of Daniel’s that I’d had a short-lived fling with.
“Gerry Baker,” confirmed Daniel. Foolishly.
“I told you not to talk to Gerry about what I was like in bed,” I said angrily.
“I didn’t,” protested Daniel nervously. “All that happened was that he said that you were good in bed and…”
One of the workers winked at me, and said, “I can well believe it, darling.”
The other worker looked appalled and hastily said to Daniel, “Sorry, mate, sorry about him. He’s had a few. No disrespect meant to you or your lady.”
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, before Daniel was forced to defend my honor. “I’m not his girlfriend.”
Which meant it was fine to insult me.
The construction workers smiled with relief but it took a little while to persuade Daniel that I hadn’t been offended by them.
“You’re the one I’m pissed off at,” I explained.
“I didn’t ask Gerry, you know,” muttered Daniel. He looked suitably shamefaced. “It just slipped out accidentally and he said it without even…”
“Shut up,” I said. “You’re in luck. I’m too upset about what Karen said to worry about you and Gerry discussing my panties.”
“He didn’t even mention your panties,” Daniel reassured me.
“Good.”
“From what I heard they weren’t on you long enough for him to even notice…I’m joking,” he said hastily, as I turned a face burning with rage upon him.
Back to Karen.
“She doesn’t really think anything’s going on with us,” I said. “She knows we’re only friends.”
“Exactly,” Daniel said eagerly. “That’s just what I said to her, that you and me are only friends.”
And we both laughed heartily.
Chapter 60
If I hadn’t been so pissed off with Karen I’d never have taken part in the Great Bitching Session which followed.
It wasn’t an honourable, noble thing to do, to bitch about my friend, roommate and fellow female, and especially to do it with a man, but I was only human.
Bad in bed, indeed! The nerve of her!
Of course, no good ever came of gossipping. I’d hate myself later, what goes around comes around, my bad karma would be returned to me threefold, and so on and so on. But I decided I could live with it.
Gossipping was a kind of McDonald’s for my psyche.
Irresistible at the time, but I always felt sort of disgusting afterwards. And hungry again ten minutes later.
“Tell me about you and Karen. What have you done to make her hate you so much?” I asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“I suppose it’s because you’re an egocentric, selfish bastard who broke her heart.”
“Am I, Lucy, is that what you think?” He looked upset.
“Well…yes, I suppose.”
“But, Lucy,” he insisted. “I’m not, I didn’t. It wasn’t like that.”
“So what was it like? I want to know why you didn’t tell her that you loved her,” I said, rolling up my bitching sleeves.
I’d teach her to suggest that I was useless in bed!
“I didn’t tell her that I loved her because I didn’t love her.” He sighed.
“Why didn’t you love her?” I asked. “What was wrong with her?”
Then I held my breath. In spite of what Karen had said about Daniel—and me—it was very important that he didn’t say mean things about her, that he treated her with respect, that he behaved like a gentleman.
I hadn’t forgotten that he was a man, and so was basically the enemy. It was fine for me to destroy Karen’s reputation with the airing of a few well-chosen secrets, but Daniel wasn’t allowed to treat her with anything other than the utmost respect. At least not until I said otherwise.
“Lucy,” he said carefully, choosing his words slowly and watching my face for my reaction, “I don’t want to say anything about Karen that could be misconstrued as nasty.”
Right answer.
We both smiled with relief.
“I understand that, Daniel.” I nodded gravely.
That was enough of that. He had observed the formalities, and now I wanted to hear everything about Karen. The more awful the better.
“That’s fine, I won’t misconstrue anything.” I was brisk. “You can tell me all about it.”
“Lucy,” he said awkwardly. “I’m not sure…it hardly seems right…”
“It’s okay, Daniel, you’ve convinced me that you’re really a nice guy,” I reassured him.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yes,” I promised insincerely. “Now tell me!”
