Angels (51 page)

“Honest to God, I just wanted closure.”

“Well, you've got it,” he snapped.

“I have, haven't I?” I grinned.

“You're in great form all of a sudden.”

“I am.” I felt light and free. Shay Delaney was just a guy from another life, the repository of hopes that were years past their use-by date.

Suddenly I found myself thinking about those people who break into the pyramids looking for treasure, but when ANGELS / 413

they get there, the tomb is empty because someone else has gotten there long before them.

“Did you ever see
Raiders of the Lost Ark
?” I murmured absently.

He looked at me as if I'd cracked completely. “Of course I did.”

And the thought that had been striving to make itself known broke the surface, ready to be claimed—Garv had been right when he'd said that Shay was one of my reasons for coming to L.A. It hadn't been a conscious decision; it had definitely been decided lower down, in the sneakier part of my brain. But my first night in Los Angeles, when Emily had told me that Shay spent a lot of time here, I already half knew—and even then I'd wondered if that was why I'd been so eager to respond to the invitation to stay with Emily.

You don't have to sleep with someone to be unfaithful, you know!

You can be unfaithful with your emotions
—I was the one who'd said it.

Poor Garv. And what about the dreams I'd occasionally had about Shay? Garv didn't know about them—unless he did. He seemed to be several steps ahead of me.

Poor Garv, I thought again. What must it have been like knowing that his wife still held a pocket of love for someone else? How lonely he must have been through the miscarriages, mutely carrying his grief and partaking in all the fuss around me. How humiliated he must have been when he became impotent. How frustrated when I wouldn't talk to him—because he was right, I had stopped talking to him.

Then I thought about him and truffle woman and a lick of anger touched me; I'd been adamant that I'd never forgive him. But what mattered more—my self-righteousness? Or the truth? And I had to admit that I hadn't been perfect either.

That's the thing with relationships, I understood: it doesn't mean we don't hurt one another; how can we help it sometimes, we're only human. But if you love someone, you 414 / MARIAN KEYES

get hurt and you manage to forgive. And be forgiven. Garv had come to forgive me and I'd given him the bum's rush.

I rolled onto my back and stared up at the purplish night sky.

Then I realized what Garv had smelled of when I'd hugged him good-bye earlier. He'd smelled of home.

“No stars tonight,” I said.

But the stars are always there, even in the daytime. Sometimes we just can't see them.

I sprang up. “I've got to go.”

I DROVE FAST
, but all the stoplights were against me and it took nearly an hour to get to the Ocean View. I did one of my worst pieces of parking ever on the sidewalk outside and hurried into the tile-floored lobby. And who should I meet, only Mum, Dad, Helen, and Anna. I later discovered they'd been to the cinema.

“I thought you were out with Shay Delaney,” Mum said in surprise.

“I was.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Looking for Garv.”

“What for?” Her face was suddenly mutinous.

I didn't answer and she said hotly, “If he can be unfaithful once, he'll do it again.”

The desk clerk followed this exchange with great interest. “Hi,”

I said. “Can you ring Paul Garvan's room for me please?”

“He checked out.”

My heart thumped hard. “When?”

“About an hour ago.”

“Where was he going?”

“Home.”

“Right, thanks, I'll get him at the airport.”

But when I turned around, Mum was blocking me. She 416 / MARIAN KEYES

drew herself up to her full height. “You are not to go after him!”

“Don't, pet, for me,” Dad beseeched.

“Margaret, you're not to go!”

I stared at the two of them, stared long and confused, then said,

“My name is Maggie and just watch me.”

As I raced back to the car, there was the clatter of running feet after me. It was Anna. “I'll come with you,” she said breathlessly.

She jumped in beside me, slammed the car door shut, and pulled on her seat belt. “Hit it!”

The journey seemed to take forever; the traffic was very heavy for that time of night and despite the spells Anna muttered, the stoplights were still against me.

“What airline do you think he flew?” I asked Anna, hoping for some sixth-sense action.

“American Airlines?”

“Maybe, unless he came through London, like I did.”

“Maggie, what about the other girl?”

“Gone.”

“But will you be able to forgive him for it?”

“Yeah, I think so, I hope so. The thing is, I wasn't without fault either.”

“And that makes it easier?”

“Yes, I love him, we'll work it out.” Then I added, “Mind you, if he ever does it again, he is so dead.”

“Good for you. I always thought you and he were perfect for each other.”

“Did you?”

“Didn't you?”

“I have to say,” I admitted, “there were times when I had my doubts. I sometimes wondered if I was a wild girl who'd settled for a safe marriage.”

Anna sniggered and I gave her an inquiring look. “Sorry,” she said. “It's just you…wild. Sorry.”

After a few seconds I said, “It's okay. Because while I've ANGELS / 417

been here I've tried being a bit wild and I just couldn't take to it.”

“Did you really get it on with Lara or were you just winding Helen up?”

“I really did.”

“God Almighty.”

“But the point I'm making is, I hadn't been playing it safe when I'd married Garv. This is the way I really am!”

“Plain yogurt at room temperature?”

“Um…”

“Plain yogurt at room temperature and
proud of it
?”

I thought about it. “How about plain yogurt with raspberry puree at the bottom? I'd settle for that.”

“More interesting than you initally seem?”

“Exactly.

“Has hidden depths.”

“Yes! I might even get a T-shirt saying it.”

“Two. One for Garv as well.”

“If we find him,” I said, my stomach tightening with fear. “And if he doesn't tell me to fuck off.”

We finally reached LAX, and after some more truly atrocious parking, we ran into departures. But when I asked the American Airlines check-in girl if she could tell me if Garv was on the flight, she said, “I can't give out that information.”

“I'm his wife,” I begged.

“I don't care if you're the Dalai Lama.”

“It's urgent.”

“so is my need to use the bathroom, but there's nothing I can do about that either.”

“Come on,” Anna said, pulling me. “We'll see if we can get him at the gate.”

LAX is huge and always crowded, no matter what time of the day or night it is. Panting, Anna and I ran through the throng, bouncing off people like pinballs. For a few frustrating minutes we got entangled in a flock of Hare Krishnas, 418 / MARIAN KEYES

and had to slow down to their pace as they hopped and chanted.

One of them even tried to give me a tambourine before we managed to break free and begin sprinting again.

“What's he wearing?” Anna gasped.

“Jeans and a T-shirt. At least that's what he was wearing earlier, he might have changed.”

“Is that him?” Anna said, and my heart nearly jumped out of my mouth. But the man she was pointing at was an African American.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just saw jeans and a T-shirt and jumped to conclusions.”

We raced in and out of all the shops and bars in departures and Garv was nowhere to be seen. The only place left to check was his actual gate, but without boarding passes we couldn't get past the barrier and the woman official was so not interested in our story.

“Security. You could be terrorists.”

“Do we look like terrorists?” I pleaded, hoping she'd see reason.

She snapped her gum a few times and drawled, “Yeah, you do.”

I stared at her, trying to psych her into giving in. She stared back, bland and unaffected, and with each empty second my hope dwindled away. But I wouldn't give up.

“Let's check the shops and bars one more time.” But there was no sign of him. Sweating, my heart pounding, my blood fizzing with awful hope, I skidded back and forth like a headless chicken, Anna doing her best to keep up, and I stopped only when I ran myself into exhaustion. Still, I didn't want to leave. “Let's just hang around a bit and see if he comes.”

“Okay,” Anna said, stretching and scanning like a meerkat on guard.

But when time passed and passed, I filled up with despair.

“Come on,” I eventually said. “We're not going to find him. We might as well go.”

*

*

ANGELS / 419

I drove home feeling like a wax-work model of myself. The streets and houses of Los Angeles disappeared and I was driving through a wasteland.

“You can call him,” Anna encouraged. “The minute he gets back to Ireland.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, but a lump of cold terror was lodged in my stomach. I knew I'd left it too late. He'd come, I'd chosen Shay, he'd gone. I'd had my chance and blown it. The realization was like that moment on a plane when your ears pop and everything is clear again.

“It was silly thinking I'd catch him at the airport,” I said wretchedly. “That sort of thing only happens in movies.”

“Starring Meg Ryan,” Anna said, nodding gloomily.

“He would have vaulted over the barrier.”

“And everyone would have clapped and cheered.”

We both sighed, and in silence continued the drive to nowhere.

For a long time I'd thought of my marriage as a horrible, dark place where I didn't want to go. I hadn't been able to remember anything good about it—but all of a sudden I could think of loads.

Like, when we used to get ready to go out for the evening, Garv would appear before me in his Calvins and an ancient pair of cowboy boots and say, “I'm ready!” And I'd frown and say, “You can't go out like that. It's cold, you need a jacket.” Then I'd dot my foundation all over my face but not rub it in and he'd say,

“Exquisite, my dear, you're like a flower. But might I suggest a soupçon of lipstick.” So I'd put a streak of red on my chin or forehead and he'd declare, “Perfecto!” Then hand me the cotton ball to rub it off.

And Friday nights used to be lovely—we'd get a video and takeout (no change there) and lie on the couch and unwind after the week. And before the second miscarriage, Friday night had always been sex night too—that's not to say we didn't sometimes do it at other times, Sunday mornings could be nice—but Friday night was always a given. And

420 / MARIAN KEYES

even though, like I said, it had been a long time since we'd had sex on the kitchen table, I'd had no complaints. It had been wonderful being with someone who knew my body almost as well as I did.

Then I remembered the way we used to do each other's toothpaste. And how, whenever we went to the local Tex-Mex place, we used to share a basket of chicken wings as our appetizer, a basket of chicken wings for our main course, and a basket of chicken wings for dessert. And the time…

Memories, one happier than the next, tumbled into my head and presented themselves for inspection and I had to put my fist into my mouth to stop from bawling with loss.

I'd often heard it said, but never thought it would apply to me—you never know what you have until it's gone.

When we arrived back in Santa Monica, I'd no real idea of how I'd gotten us there. “Do you want to be dropped at the Ocean View?” I asked Anna.

“No, I'll come to Emily's with you.”

I shoved my key into the lock and half fell into Emily's front room—where so many people were sitting quietly that my first thought was
Who's dead
? In a second I'd taken in Emily, Troy, Mike, Charmaine, Luis, Curtis, Ethan…

“You got a guest, man,” Ethan said coldly, indicating the person beside him. Who happened to be Garv.

“I thought you'd gone back to Iowa.” Surprise made me sound stupid.

“Couldn't get on the plane. I only had a stand-by ticket. How was your date?”

“Short. Ludicrous. I went to the airport to try and catch you.”

My face was burning with emotion and everyone was staring, boring holes into me with their eyes. And was it my imagination or were they all clustered protectively around Garv—and sending me hostile vibes?

Emily stood up. “How about we give them some space.” And after a brief, reluctant pause, everyone trotted meekly ANGELS / 421

behind her, toward the front door. As Curtis passed he pointed to Garv and said angrily, “This guy's a way better man than the jazzy dude with the tony wheels who gave you a ride home Friday night!”

“How do you know about that?” Emily asked.

“He's got a telescope,” Luis said.

“Ugh,” Emily groaned.

“This love thing, it's not like a haircut,” Luis said, leaning into me as he left. “You fuck it up, it's not going to grow back, right?”

“Er, right.”

“If it don't come back, it was never yours,” was Ethan's contribution. “If it comes back, it's yours to keep.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Mike said, nodding meaningfully.

He was right there—I'd wished for Shay.

“Think of the snail,” Charmaine said.

“Huh?” several of them asked.

“The
snail
?” I heard Emily query. “What's that all about?”

Then everyone had left and Garv and I were alone.

“What's going on?” he asked wearily.

“You were right. I'm sorry.”

“Right about what?”

“Shay Delaney. I was still sort of hung up on him—but I didn't realize it, I swear. Not really.”

Garv rubbed his eyes—he looked exhausted. “This is one time I'd have been happy to be wrong.”

“I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

“I'm sorry too.”

The way he said it started alarm bells ringing; it was the wrong sort of “sorry.” It sounded final and defeated. “What for?” I asked too quickly.