PS, I Love You

by Cecelia Ahern

  Holly sat at her kitchen table nervously drumming her fingers on the wood. She gulped back her third cup of coffee and uncrossed her legs. Staying awake for just two more hours had proved more difficult than she thought; she was obviously still tired from overindulging at her party. She tapped her feet under the table with no particular rhythm, and then crossed her legs again. It was 11:30 p.m. She had the envelope on the table in front of her and she could almost see it sticking its tongue out and singing “Na-na na-na-na.”

  She picked it up and ran it over in her hands. Who would know if she opened it early? Sharon and John had probably forgotten there was even an envelope for May, and Denise was probably conked out after the stress of her two-day hangover. She could just as easily lie if they ever asked her if she cheated, then again they probably wouldn’t even care. No one would know and no one would care.

  But that wasn’t true.

  Gerry would know.

  Each time Holly held the envelopes in her hand she felt a connection with Gerry. The last two times she opened them she had felt as though Gerry were sitting right beside her and laughing at her reactions. She felt like they were playing a game together even though they were in two different worlds. But she could feel him, and he would know if she cheated, he would know if she disobeyed the rules of their game.

  After another cup of coffee Holly was bouncing off the walls. The small hand of the clock seemed to be auditioning for a part in Baywatch with its slow-motion run around the dial, but eventually it struck midnight. Once again she slowly turned the envelope over and treasured every moment of the process. Gerry sat opposite her at the table. “Go on; open it!”

  She carefully tore open the seal and ran her fingers along it, knowing the last thing that had touched it was Gerry’s tongue. She slid the card out of its pouch and opened it.

  Go on, Disco Diva! Face your fear of karaoke at Club Diva this month and you never know, you might be rewarded …

  PS, I love you …

  She felt Gerry watching her and the corners of her lips lifted into a smile and she began to laugh. Holly kept repeating “no way!” whenever she caught her breath. Finally she calmed down and announced to the room, “Gerry! You bastard! There is absolutely no way I am going through with this!”

  Gerry laughed louder.

  “This is not funny. You know how I feel about this, and I refuse to do it. Nope. No way. Not doing it.”

  “You have to do it, you know,” laughed Gerry.

  “I do not have to do this!”

  “Do it for me.”

  “I am not doing it for you, for me or for world peace. I hate karaoke!”

  “Do it for me,” he repeated.

  The sound of the phone caused Holly to jump in her seat. It was Sharon. “OK, it’s five past twelve, what did it say? John and I are dying to know!”

  “What makes you think I opened it?”

  “Ha!” Sharon snorted. “Twenty years of friendship quali- fies me as being an expert on you; now come on, tell us what it says.”

  “I’m not doing it,” Holly stated bluntly.

  “What? You’re not telling us?”

  “No, I’m not doing what he wants me to do.”

  “Why, what is it?”

  “Oh, just Gerry’s pathetic attempt at being humorous,” she snapped at the ceiling.

  “Oh, I’m intrigued now,” Sharon said, “tell us.”

  “Holly, spill the beans, what is it?” John was on the downstairs phone.

  “OK … Gerry wants me … to … singatakaraoke,” she rushed out.

  “Huh? Holly, we didn’t understand a word you said,” Sharon gave out.

  “No, I did,” interrupted John. “I think I heard something about a karaoke. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Holly replied like a bold little girl.

  “And do you have to sing?” inquired Sharon.

  “Ye-eess,” she replied slowly. Maybe if she didn’t say it, it wouldn’t have to happen.

  The other two burst out laughing so loud, Holly had to quickly remove the phone from her ear. “Phone me back when the two of you shut up,” she said angrily, hanging up.

  A few minutes later they called back.

  “Yes?”

  She heard Sharon snort down the phone, relapse into a fit of the giggles and then the line went dead.

  Ten minutes later she phoned back.

  “Yes?”

  “OK.” Sharon had an overly serious “let’s get down to business” tone in her voice. “I’m sorry about that, I’m fine now. Don’t look at me, John,” Sharon said away from the phone. “I’m sorry, Holly, but I just kept thinking about the last time you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she interrupted, “you don’t need to bring it back up. It was the most embarrassing day of my life, so I just happen to remember it. That’s why I’m not doing it.”

  “Oh, Holly, you can’t let a stupid thing like that put you off!”

  “Well, if that wouldn’t put a person off, then they’re clinically insane!”

  “Holly, it was only a little fall …”

  “Yes, thank you! I remember it just fine! Anyway I can’t even sing, Sharon; I think I established that fact marvelously the last time!”

  Sharon was very quiet.

  “Sharon?”

  Still silence.

  “Sharon, you still there?”

  There was no answer.

  “Sharon, are you laughing?” Holly gave out.

  She heard a little squeak and the line went dead.

  “What wonderfully supportive friends I have,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Oh Gerry!” Holly yelled. “I thought you were supposed to be helping me, not turning me into a nervous wreck!”

  She got very little sleep that night.

  Ten

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOLLY! OR SHOULD I say happy belated birthday?” Richard laughed nervously. Holly’s mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of her older brother standing on her doorstep. This was a rare occurrence; in fact, it may have been a first. She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, completely unsure of what to say. “I brought you a potted mini Phalaenopsis orchid,” he said, handing her a potted plant. “They have been shipped fresh, budding, and are ready to bloom.” He sounded like an advertisement. Holly was even more stunned as she fingered the tiny pink buds. “Gosh, Richard, orchids are my favorite!”

  “Well, you have a nice big garden here anyway, nice and”—he cleared his throat—“green. Bit overgrown, though …” He trailed off and began that annoying rocking thing he did with his feet.

  “Would you like to come in or are you just passing through?” Please say no, please say no. Despite the thoughtful gift, Holly was in no mood for Richard’s company.

  “Well yes, I’ll come in for a little while so.” He wiped his feet for a good two minutes at the door before stepping into the house. He reminded Holly of her old math teacher at school, dressed in a brown knitted cardigan with brown trousers that stopped just at the top of his neat little brown loafers. He hadn’t a hair on his head out of place and his fingernails were clean and perfectly manicured. Holly could imagine him measuring them with a little ruler every night to see that they didn’t outgrow the required European standard length for fingernails, if such a thing existed.

  Richard never seemed comfortable in his own skin. He looked like he was being choked to death by his tightly knotted (brown) tie, and he always walked as if he had a barge pole shoved up his backside. On the rare occasions that he smiled, the smile never managed to reach his eyes. He was the drill sergeant of his own body, screaming at and punishing himself every time he lapsed into human mode. But he did it to himself, and the sad thing was that he thought he was better off than everyone else for it. Holly led him into the living room and placed the ceramic pot on top of the TV for the time being.

  “No, no, Holly,” he said, wagging a finger at her as though she were a naughty child. “You shouldn’t put it there, it ne
eds to be in a cool, draft-free location away from harsh sunlight and heat vents.”

  “Oh, of course.” Holly picked the pot back up and searched around the room in panic for a suitable place. What had he said? A draft-free, warm location? How did he always manage to make her feel like an incompetent little girl?

  “How about that little table in the center, it should be safe there.”

  Holly did as she was told and placed the pot on the table, half expecting him to say “good girl.” Thankfully he didn’t.

  Richard took his favorite position at the fireplace and surveyed the room. “Your house is very clean,” he commented.

  “Thank you, I just, eh … cleaned it.”

  He nodded as if he already knew.

  “Can I get you a tea or coffee?” she asked, expecting him to say no.

  “Yes, great,” he said, clapping his hands together, “tea would be splendid. Just milk, no sugar.”

  Holly returned from the kitchen with two mugs of tea and placed them down on the coffee table. She hoped the steam rising from the mugs wouldn’t murder the poor plant.

  “You just need to water it regularly and feed it during the months of spring.” He was still talking about the plant. Holly nodded, knowing full well she would not do either of those things.

  “I didn’t know you had green fingers, Richard,” she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  “Only when I’m painting with the children. At least that’s what Meredith says,” he laughed, cracking a rare joke.

  “Do you do much work in your garden?” Holly was anxious to keep the conversation flowing; as the house was so quiet, every silence was amplified.

  “Oh yes, I love to work in the garden.” His eyes lit up. “Saturdays are my garden days,” he said, smiling into his mug of tea.

  Holly felt as though a complete stranger were sitting beside her. She realized she knew very little about Richard and he equally knew very little about her. But that was the way Richard had always liked to keep things, he had always distanced himself from the family even when they were younger. He never shared exciting news with them or even told them how his day went. He was just full of facts, facts and more facts. The first time the family had even heard of Meredith was the day they both came over for dinner to announce their engagement. Unfortunately at that stage it was too late to convince him not to marry the flame-haired green-eyed dragon. Not that he would have listened anyway.

  “So,” she announced, far too loudly for the echoing room, “anything strange or startling?” Like why are you here?

  “No, no, nothing strange, everything is ticking over as normal.” He took a sip of tea then a while later added, “Nothing startling either, for that matter. I just thought I would pop in and say hello while I was in the area.”

  “Ah, right. It’s unusual for you to be over this side of the city.” Holly laughed. “What brings you to the dark and dangerous world of the north side?”

  “Oh, you know, just a little business,” he mumbled to himself. “But my car’s parked on the other side of the River Liffey of course!”

  Holly forced a smile.

  “Just joking of course,” he added. “It’s just outside the house … it will be safe, won’t it?” he asked seriously.

  “I think it should be OK,” Holly said sarcastically. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone suspicious hanging around the cul-de-sac in broad daylight today.” Her humor was lost on him. “How’s Emily and Timmy, sorry, I mean Timothy?” That was an honest mistake for once.

  Richard’s eyes lit up. “Oh, they’re good, Holly, very good. Worrying, though.” He looked away and surveyed her living room.

  “What do you mean?” Holly asked, thinking that perhaps Richard might open up to her.

  “Oh, there isn’t one thing in particular, Holly. Children are a worry in general.” He pushed the rim of his glasses up his nose and looked her in the eye. “But I suppose you’re glad you will never have to worry about all this children nonsense,” he said, laughing.

  There was a silence.

  Holly felt like she had been kicked in the stomach.

  “So have you found a job yet?” he continued on.

  Holly sat frozen on her chair in shock; she couldn’t believe he had the audacity to say that to her. She was insulted and hurt and she wanted him out of her house. She really wasn’t in the mood to be polite to him anymore and she certainly couldn’t be bothered explaining to his narrow little mind that she hadn’t even begun looking for a job yet as she was still grieving the death of her husband. “Nonsense” that he wouldn’t have to experience for another fifty years.

  “No,” she spat out.

  “So what are you doing for money? Have you signed on the dole?”

  “No, Richard,” she said, trying not to lose her temper, “I haven’t signed on the dole, I get widow’s allowance.”

  “Ah, that’s a great, handy thing, isn’t it?”

  “Handy is not quite the word I would use, devastatingly depressing is more like it.”

  The atmosphere was tense. Suddenly he slapped his leg with his hand, signaling the end of the conversation. “I better motor on so and get back to work,” he announced, standing up and exaggerating a stretch as though he had been sitting down for hours.

  “OK then.” Holly was relieved. “You better leave while your car is still there.” Once again her humor was lost on him; he was peering out the window to check.

  “You’re right; it’s still there, thank God. Anyway, nice to see you and thank you for the tea,” he said to a spot on the wall above her head.

  “You’re welcome and thank you for the orchid,” Holly said through gritted teeth. He marched down the garden path and stopped midway to look at the garden. He nodded his head disapprovingly and shouted to her, “You really must get someone to sort this mess out,” and drove off in his brown family car.

  Holly fumed as she watched him drive off and banged the door shut. That man made her blood boil so much she felt like knocking him out. He just hadn’t a clue … about anything.

  Eleven

  “OH SHARON, I JUST HATE him,” Holly moaned to her friend on the phone later that night.

  “Just ignore him, Holly, he can’t help himself, he’s an idiot,” she replied angrily.

  “But that’s what annoys me even more. Everyone says he can’t help himself or it’s not his fault. He’s a grown man, Sharon. He’s thirty-six years old. He should bloody well know when to keep his mouth shut. He says those things deliberately,” she fumed.

  “I really don’t think he does it deliberately, Holly,” she said soothingly. “I genuinely think he called around to wish you a happy birthday …”

  “Yeah! And what’s that about?” Holly ranted. “Since when has he ever called around to my house to give me a birthday present? Never! That’s when!”

  “Well, thirty is more of a big deal than any other …”

  “Not in his eyes it’s not! He even said so at dinner a few weeks ago. If I recall, his exact words were,” she mimicked his voice, “I don’t agree with silly celebrations blah-blah-blah, I’m a sap blah-blah-blah. He really is a Dick.”

  Sharon laughed at her friend sounding like a ten-year-old. “OK, so he’s an evil monster of a being who deserves to burn in hell!”

  Holly paused. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, Sharon …”

  Sharon laughed. “Oh, I just can’t please you at all, can I?”

  Holly smiled weakly. Gerry would know exactly how she was feeling, he would know exactly what to say and he would know exactly what to do. He would give her one of his famous hugs and all her problems would melt away. She grabbed a pillow from her bed and hugged it tight. She couldn’t remember the last time she hugged someone, really hugged someone. And the depressing thing was that she couldn’t imagine ever embracing anyone the same way again.

  “Helloooo? Earth to Holly? You still there or am I talking to myself again?”

  “Oh sorry, Sharon, what did
you say?”

  “I said, have you given any more thought to this karaoke business?”

  “Sharon!” Holly yelped. “No more thought is required on that subject!”

  “OK, calm down, woman! I was just thinking that we could hire out a karaoke machine and we could set it up in your living room. That way, you’ll be doing what he wants minus the embarrassment! What do you think?”

  “No, Sharon, it’s a great idea but it won’t work; he wants me to do it in Club Diva, wherever that is.”

  “Ah! So sweet! Because you’re his Disco Diva?”

  “I think that was the general idea,” Holly said miserably.

  “Ah! That’s a lovely idea, although Club Diva? Never heard of it.”

  “Well, that’s that settled then, if no one knows where it is, then I just can’t do it, can I?” Holly said, satisfied she had found a way out.

  They both said their good-byes and as soon as Holly had hung up, the phone rang again.

  “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “Mum!” Holly said accusingly.

  “Oh God, what have I done now?”

  “I received a little visit from your evil son today and I’m not very happy.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dear, I tried to call you earlier to tell you he was on his way over but I kept getting that bloody answering machine, do you ever turn your phone on?”

  “That is not the point, Mum.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. Why, what did he do?”

  “He opened his mouth. There lies the problem in itself.”

  “Oh no, and he was so excited about giving you that present.”

  “Well, I’m not denying that the present was very nice and thoughtful and all of those wonderful things, but he said some of the most insulting things without batting an eyelid!”

  “Do you want me to talk to him for you?”

  “No, it’s OK; we’re big boys and girls now. But thanks anyway. So what are you up to?” Holly was anxious to change the subject.

  “Ciara and I are watching a Denzel Washington film. Ciara thinks she’s going to marry him someday,” Elizabeth laughed.