Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married (17 page)

"Well, thank you for telling me."

"Have I scared you away?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Your family must be crazy too."

"They're not, sorry to disappoint you."

"Then why are you so tolerant about my crowd?"

"Because you're you, not you family."

"If only it was that simple, Lucy Sullivan."

"But it can be, Gus...Gus what?"

"Gus Lavan."

"Pleased to meet you, Gus Lavan," I said, shaking hands with him.

Lucy Lavan, I was thinking. Lucy Lavan? Yes, I liked it. Or how about it being double-barreled. Lucy Sullivan Lavan? That had a lovely ring too.

"And I'm very pleased to meet you, Lucy Sullivan," he said solemnly, clasping my hand. "Although I've already said that, haven't I?" lucy sullivan is getting married / 193

"Yes, you said it last night."

"But it doesn't make it any less true, Lucy. Want to go for a pint, Lucy?"

"Er, yes, if you want. Have you walked enough?"

"I've walked enough to work up a thirst, ergo I've walked enough."

"Fine."

"What time is it, Lucy?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you have a watch?"

"No."

"Neither have I. It's a sign."

"Of what?" I asked warmly. That Gus and I were soul mates? That Gus and I were ideally matched?

"That we'll always be late."

"Oh. Um, what are you doing?"

Gus had leaned back almost horizontally on the bench and was staring at the sky, sucking his teeth and muttering things like "a hundred and eighty degrees" and "seven hours ahead in New York" and "or maybe that's Chicago."

"I'm looking at the sky, Lucy."

"Why?"

"To find out the time, of course."

"Of course."

A pause.

"Any conclusions?"

"Yes, I think so." He nodded his head thoughtfully. "I think so."

There was another pause.

"Lucy, I've made up my mind that it's almost definitely--of course there's always room for human error here, you understand--but I'm prepared to say that it's almost definitely daytime. Eighty-seven percent certain. Or maybe eighty-four."

"I'd say you're right."

"I'd be interested to hear your views on the matter, Lucy."

"I'd say it's about two o'clock."

"Oh god." He jumped up from the bench. "That late? Well come on then, we'll just have to do our best."

"What are you talking about?" I giggled, as he dragged me after him through the park.

"Closing time, Lucy Sullivan, closing time. A dirty word. Two dirty words, actually. Filthy, heinous words," he said, almost spitting them out. "Filthy! The pubs close at three o'clock today and they don't open again until seven--am I right?"

"Yes." I tried to keep up with him, "unless they've made changes to the liquor laws this morning."

"Do you think they might have?" asked Gus, stopping abruptly.

"No."

"Well, then, come on," he said, almost running. "We've only got an hour."

27 We stopped at the first pub we came to when we got out of the park. It wasn't too awful, which was just as well because I sensed that Gus would have made me go in even if the roof had caved in and the walls were falling down.

He put his hand on my arm at the door. lucy sullivan is getting married / 195

"Lucy, I'm sorry about this but I'm afraid that you'll have to finance this mission. I get my unemployment on Tuesday so I'll pay you back then."

"Oh...oh...fine."

My heart sank, but I caught it before it hit the ground. After all it wasn't Gus's fault that I met him on a weekend when he was broke.

"What would you like to drink?" I asked him.

"I'll have a pint."

"Of what?"

"Guinness, of course..."

"Of course."

"...and a small one," he added.

"A small one?"

"Jameson's whiskey, no ice."

"Er, right you are."

"But make it a big one," he suggested.

"Sorry?"

"A big small one."

"What...?"

"A big Jameson. A large one."

"Oh, okay."

"I hope you don't mind, Lucy, but I don't see any point in doing things by half," he said apologetically.

"It's fine," I said faintly.

"And whatever you're having," he added.

"Um, thanks."

If I had been Karen, I would have said my "um, thanks" sarcastically, but seeing as I was only me I just said "um, thanks" like I really meant "um, thanks."

"There's a table just over here, Lucy. I'll guard it while you get the drinks."

I stood at the bar and I felt sad for just a moment. Then 196 / marian keyes

I forced myself to stop. I was being silly. He'd have money on Tuesday.

"And maybe some potato chips," said Gus's voice in my ear.

"What flavor?"

"Salt and vinegar..."

"Okay."

"Good woman." I got myself a modest Diet Coke.

Gus had finished his pint and his large small one before I finished my drink. In fact he nearly had them finished by the time I sat down.

"We'll have another," announced Gus.

"I suppose we will."

"You stay where you are," he said kindly. "Just give me the money and I'll get them."

"Oh, okay," I said, fishing in my pocket for my purse which I had just replaced and pulled out a fiver.

"Five pounds?" he said doubtfully. "Are you sure that'll be enough, Lucy?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

"Don't you want one for yourself?"

"Yes!"

While he was gone I drank the rest of my drink quickly. I decided that if he didn't give me back my change without me having to ask I would...I would...I don't know...

"Here's your change, Lucy."

I looked up from where I had been staring gloomily into my empty glass. Gus was looking at me anxiously, a few pennies in his open palm.

"Thanks." I smiled and took all thirteen pence or whatever it was. I suddenly felt better.

After all, it was the principle as much as the money.

"Lucy," Gus said earnestly. "Thank you, for the drinks and all that...it's very good of you. I get my check on lucy sullivan is getting married / 197

Tuesday and I'll take you out that night and I'll see you right. I promise. Er...thanks."

"You're welcome," I smiled, feeling a lot, lot better. He had redeemed himself, perhaps he had sensed how disappointed I had begun to feel.

He was good at that--redeeming himself, that is. At pulling himself back when he hovered on the brink of my disapproval, just at the last minute.

It wasn't that I minded spending money on him--or anyone for that matter--especially when it was for something as important as lunchtime drinks for them, but I minded very much feeling as if they thought I was an idiot, a soft touch.

He had several more drinks which I happily paid for ("I'll see you right on Tuesday, Lucy") in the next short hour.

"We've done marvelous things in the short time slot we had available to us, Lucy." Gus surveyed the table full of empty glasses as three o'clock approached and the bartender invited us to leave.

"Isn't it truly amazing what you can achieve when you set your mind to it?" He waved his remaining half-empty pint glass around to emphasize his point. "All it takes is a bit of effort.

"Although I'm disappointed in you, Lucy." He affectionately touched my face. "I'm sorry to have to tell you. But two Diet cokes and a gin and tonic? Are you sure you're Irish?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well, you'll just have to pull your weight more the next time, you can't just leave it all to me, you know."

"Gus," I giggled. "I've a bit of bad news for you."

"What is it?"

"I don't really drink all that much. And I never drink 198 / marian keyes

during the day.... Usually," I added hastily as he looked accusingly at my gin glass.

"Really? But I thought...Didn't you say?...But you don't mind other people drinking lots, though, do you?" he asked hopefully.

"Not at all," I assured him. "Not at all."

"That's fine then." He sighed with relief. "Christ, you had me worried there for a moment. Would you say the bar really is closed?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I'll just go up and make sure," he suggested mischievously.

"Gus! It's closed!"

"But there's a barman there. They must still be serving."

"He's washing glasses."

"I'll just go and check."

"Gus!"

But he had hopped out of his seat and was up at the counter having a conversation with the bartender that involved Gus in a lot of energetic gesticulation. Then to my horror I heard slightly raised voices, which stopped abruptly when Gus slammed his hand down on the wooden counter with great finality. He made his way back over to me.

"They're closed," he murmured, subdued. He picked up his pint and wouldn't meet my eye.

I was aware that the few remaining customers were watching us with amused interest. I was slightly embarrassed, but it was funny.

"I don't know what was up with him at all, but that barman fella was a very unreasonable character," Gus muttered. "Unreasonable and unpleas- ant. There was no lucy sullivan is getting married / 199

need for what he said to me. And whatever happened to `the customer is always right'?"

I laughed and Gus glared at me.

"Et tu, Lucy?" he demanded.

I laughed again. I couldn't help it--it must have been the gin.

"We won't come here again, Lucy. Oh no! I don't come to a pub to be insulted, so I don't, Lucy. Indeed I do not!"

His good-looking, mobile face was grim with annoyance.

"I've plenty of other places I can go to be insulted," he added gloomily.

"What did he say to you?" I asked, trying to stop my mouth from twitching.

"Lucy, I wouldn't repeat it and certainly not in your presence," he said earnestly. "I would neither soil my own mouth nor pollute the fragrant air around your delicate ears by repeating what that...that...lousy bastard, that mean-spirited, bureaucratic, anal-retentive fucker, called me."

"Fair enough," I said, somehow keeping a straight face.

"I've too much respect for you, Lucy."

"I appreciate that."

"You're a lady, Lucy. And there are certain rules, certain personal re- straints, that I apply when I'm in the presence of a lady."

"Thanks, Gus."

"And now," he said, standing up, and draining his glass, "our work here is done."

"What would you like to do now?" I asked.

"Well, it is Sunday afternoon and we've had a couple of drinks and it's cold and we have just met the previous evening, therefore it is written that we go back to your apartment and snuggle on the couch and watch a black-

and-white movie." Gus smiled meaningfully at me and slipped his arm around my pink angora waist. He pulled me slightly toward him and I felt light-headed with...well, it must have been lust, I suppose. It was lovely to be held by him. Even though he wasn't very tall, he was strong and manly.

"That sounds wonderful." A thrill ran through me. Although I was afraid that there might not be a black-and-white film on and that Daniel and Karen might be having sex on the living-room floor. We could always go see Adrian and get a video if there wasn't anything suitable on the TV, but I wasn't quite so sure how to deal with the Daniel and Karen problem.

And what if Adrian got upset when he saw me with a guy? How would I cope? It was a sorry state of affairs, but such was life, where every silver lining had a cloud, and every piece of happiness had its price in someone else's pain.

28 That night, after Gus had gone home, my happiness was almost uncontain- able. I was itching to talk about Gus, to go into minute detail of what I was wearing when I met him, what he said to me, what he looked like, and all that.

But my usual confidantes were unavailable--Karen and Charlotte were out and Daniel was with Karen and I was too mad at Megan and Meredia, so I called Dennis. And amazingly, he was in. lucy sullivan is getting married / 201

"I thought you'd be out," I said.

"Is that why you called?"

"Don't be so touchy."

"What do you want?"

"Dennis," I breathed dramatically. "I met a man."

He gasped. "Do tell." Sometimes he talked like that, even though he was from Cork.

"Come over, it's more exciting if I tell you in person," I said.

"I'm on my way."

I had to rush around and put on makeup and comb my hair because Dennis always scrutinized my appearance, telling me whether I had lost or gained weight, what my ideal weight should be, whether he liked or hated my hair and so on. He was worse than my mother, but at least he had an excuse--he was a gay man, he couldn't help himself.

He arrived in about ten minutes. Every time I saw him, he had cut his hair shorter and shorter and all he had now was a little cap of blond fuzz. Which, with his long skinny neck, made him look like a duckling.

"That was quick," I said as I opened the door. "Did you get a taxi?"

"Taxi, schmaxi! The journey I've had--stop! I'll tell you later, I want to hear your hot news."

Dennis sometimes overdid his flamboyant homosexual act, but I was too grateful to have found a confidante to tell him to stop.

Then he inspected my appearance and I passed, with a couple of recom- mendations. He demanded tea and complained about the pattern on the mug. "A cat, a CAT!--Really, Lucy, I don't know how you can live like this."

There were only about four things in Dennis's flat, but they were really beautiful and expensive. 202 / marian keyes

"You're my para-girlfriend squad," I told him as we sat down.

"What's that?"

"In an emergency, when I need to girltalk and there's no girls available, you rush to my side," I explained. "I have visions of you pulling on a uni- form and sliding down a pole."

He blushed so red his face was darker than his bleached hair.

"Do you mind?" he said haughtily. "My private life is my own affair."

"Assume gossiping positions," I said so we both sat on the sofa, facing each other.

I told him about going to the fortune-teller. "You should have told me," he grumbled. "I would have liked to come."

"Sorry." I quickly moved on to the awful rumor that I was getting mar- ried.

"Honestly, Dennis, I was miserable. Apart from the humiliation and all that, it made me feel so lonely. Like I really would never get married."

"I really will never get married," said Dennis. "I won't be permitted to." He sort of spat when he said "permitted."

"Sorry, that was insensitive of me," I said hurriedly. I didn't want Dennis to start going on and on about gay men being discriminated against and how they should be allowed to get married just like "breeders," as he in- sisted on calling heterosexuals.

"It made me feel old and left on the shelf, empty and pathetic. You know?"

"Ooooh, I do, my dear." He pursed his lips.

"Dennis, please don't go all poofy on me."

"What do you mean?" lucy sullivan is getting married / 203

"Don't call me `my dear,'" I begged. "It's so affected. You're Irish and don't ever forget it."

He rolled his eyes.

"Now where was I?" I said. "Oh, yes, I can't believe that so much changed in twenty-four hours."

"It's always darkest just before the dawn," said Dennis sagely. "So you met this man on Saturday night?"

"Yes."

"He must be the one that was predicted for you," said Dennis, telling me exactly what I wanted to hear.

"I think he might be," I said shamefacedly. "I know I shouldn't believe it, and please don't tell anyone that I do, but wouldn't it be nice to think so?"

"Can I be your bridesmaid?"

"Of course."

"Except I can't POSSIBLY wear pink, it makes me look like DEATH!"

"Fine, fine, have whatever color you like." I wasn't interested in anything except keeping the discussion centered directly on Gus. "Oh Dennis, he's exactly what I want, he's so me. If I'd gone to God and described my perfect man, and God had been in a good mood, he would have given me Gus."

"Really? That good?"

"Yes. Dennis, I'm a bit ashamed to think this way, but he's too good for it just to be random. The fortune-teller must have been for real. I feel like it was meant to happen."

"This is fabulous," said Dennis, all excited.

"And I feel different about my whole life, my past," I said, waxing philosophical. "All those awful people that I went out with in the past were for a reason. You know the way I always seemed to lurch and drift from one awful relationship to the next?" 204 / marian keyes

"Yes, only too well."

"Well, sorry about that, but it won't happen again. But, you see Dennis, all the time I had been moving one step closer to Gus. All those wasted years when I felt as if I was wandering in the wilderness, I had actually been on the right path."

"Do you think it's the same for me?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm sure of it. I have been led safely through the Minefield of Wrong Men," I went on, getting carried away, "sustaining mere flesh wounds, and I've reached the clearing on the other side and there, waiting for me, was Gus.

"Oh, Dennis, if only I had known that there would be an end to my loneliness."

"If only we both had known," said Dennis, no doubt thinking of all the nights spent listening to me going on and on.

"I should have had faith.

"You should have listened to me."

"We just have no idea what is out there for us, what life is leading us to," I said, getting misty-eyed. "I used to think that I was master of my own destiny, captain of my own ship. In fact, Dennis, I suspected that this was why my life was such a shambles--because I was directing things."

"Right, that's enough of that," said Dennis impatiently. "Knock off the philosophy, I see what you're getting at, but tell me about him. I want exact measurements!"

"Oh, Dennis, he's great, really great, everything about him feels right. I feel that this is a good one."

"Details," he said impatiently. "Has he muscles?"

"Well, sort of..."

"That means he hasn't." lucy sullivan is getting married / 205

"No, Dennis, really, he is very muscley."

"Is he tall?"

"No."

"What do you mean `no'?"

"I mean he's not tall."

"You mean he's short."

"Okay, Dennis, he's short. But so am I," I added hurriedly.

"Lucy, you always had rotten taste in men."

"That's rich," I said. "Coming from the man who loves Michael Flatley."

Dennis hung his head in shame.

"The man who has watched the Riverdance video a hundred times," I taunted.

One night when he was drunk, Dennis had told me that.

He regretted it bitterly.

"It's a big world," he said humbly. "There's room for all kinds of taste."

"Exactly," I said. "So Gus might be short..."

"He is short."

"...but he's really good-looking and he has a great body and..."

"Does he work out?" asked Dennis hopefully.

"Somehow I'd guess he doesn't." I was sorry to disappoint Dennis, but I couldn't lie to him. Anyway he'd notice when he met Gus.

"Does that mean that he drinks a lot?"

"It means he's a party animal."

"I see. He drinks a lot."

"Oh, Dennis, stop being so negative." I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "Wait until you meet him--you'll love him, honestly! He's wonderful, so funny and charming and intelligent and nice, and I swear to God, really sexy. And he mightn't be your type, but I think he's perfect!" 206 / marian keyes

"So what's the catch?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's always a catch, isn't there?"

"Get lost," I said, "I know I haven't exactly been lucky but..."

"I don't just mean with your men," he sighed. "With every man. Nobody knows that more than me."

"Dennis," I said. "I don't think there is a catch."

"Trust me," he said. "There's a catch. Is he rich?"

"No."

"Is he actively poor?"

"Well..."

"Oh, Lucy, not again! Why do you always pick these paupers that have horrible clothes?"

"Because I'm not shallow like you. You're far too concerned with boys' clothes and the way they cut their hair and the watch they have."

"Maybe I am," he said huffily. "But you're not concerned enough!"

"Anyway," I said, "I don't pick them, it just happens."

"I bet if you lived in California, you wouldn't get away with saying that. But never mind--so how come he's poor?"

"It's not what you think," I explained eagerly. "It's not as if he's lazy. He's a musician and work is hard to come by."

"A musician--again?"

"Yes, but this one's different, and I have the utmost respect for anyone willing to endure financial hardship for the sake of his art."

"I know."

"And I'd happily give up my own nine-to-five drudgery except that I'm not talented at anything."

"But don't you mind being with someone who never lucy sullivan is getting married / 207

has any money? And don't give me that line about love will conquer all, and that other things are more important. Let's be practical here."

"I don't mind at all. It's just that I'm not sure I have enough money to keep both of us in the manner to which Gus seems to be accustomed." I felt awkward about admitting this.

"What manner is that? Does he take cocaine?"

"No." Then I thought about it. "Well, maybe he does, actually."

"You'll have to get a second job, if that's the manner to which he's accus- tomed."

"Shut up, I'm trying to tell you, earlier this evening, Gus and I went for a pizza, at Pizza My Mind..."

"But it's Sunday--why didn't you go to the Cash'n'Curry?"

"Because Daniel and Karen went there and they were looking deeply in love and I didn't want to disturb them."

"Daniel and KAREN?!" shrieked Dennis, blanching. "Karen and DANIEL?"

"Er, yes." I had forgotten that Dennis had a crush on Daniel. "Karen, from here? Karen McHaggis, or whatever her tartany, Scottish name is." Dennis didn't like Karen. He'd like her even less now.

"Yes, that Karen."

"With Daniel, my Daniel?"

"If that's Daniel Watson you're talking about, then yes, your Daniel."

"Oh dear, that's upset me now." He looked very shaky. "I need a drink."

"There's a bottle of something over there."

"Where?"

"Over there, on the bookcase."