‘So anyway, this might make you feel better: I need your help on another matter,’ Adam said, changing the subject, ‘I need your help in getting a present for Maria.’
‘Sure,’ I said, feeling uncomfortable and confused over how my heart sank even further just at the thought of her. ‘How about pink lipstick?’
His eyes narrowed, trying to figure out if it had been said with the malice that it sounded.
‘No …’ he said slowly. ‘That’s not what I had in mind. You see, it’s her birthday—’
‘What?!’ I snapped out of it. ‘When is it her birthday?’
‘Today. Why are you so angry?’
‘And you’re only telling me this now? Adam, this is a huge opportunity to win her over. We could have spent days planning this.’
‘I’d been trying to think of a gift myself, but nothing seems good enough. There’s the usual stuff – jewellery, diamonds, holidays – but we’ve done it all. It doesn’t quite seem enough this time round. Besides I didn’t think you’d let me see her anyway.’
He was right but I was still annoyed that he hadn’t told me before now. ‘What did you get her last year?’
‘We went to Paris.’ He looked at me and my resentment for Maria soared. ‘But my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t feeling so great.’
‘Why, what happened?’
‘Nothing really. It was around the time my sister moved away. I had a lot on my mind. Maria thought it was because I was planning a proposal; it obviously didn’t work out that way and … well, the trip was a bit of a disaster.’
His sister left. He saw people leaving as abandonment, I would have to be careful when we parted ways. The prospect made me feel sad.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I’m thinking.’ I went to my bedroom and picked up the book for inspiration. The next chapter was all about the benefits of learning to cook. I chucked the book across the room, not exactly happy with its solution to our dilemma. In fact, I was unimpressed by any of its solutions to date. Cooking as therapy? Cooking as a way to win Maria over? Unless he cooked Maria dinner … but how could that work?
‘Adam, do you still have the keys to your apartment?’ I called to him.
‘Yes, why?’ He appeared at the bedroom door. He always stopped right there, never crossing over the threshold into my private space. I appreciated that about him, always respecting the invisible boundaries, respecting my space.
I was thinking that maybe we could sneak Maria’s birthday dinner into their apartment, but if Sean turned out to be there it would be a disaster and it would set Adam back after days of our hard work.
‘I’d love to know where she’ll be on her birthday. Is there any way you can find that out? Speak to her friends? Family? Without making a big deal, of course.’
‘Our birthdays are in the same week, so usually we celebrate them together,’ he said, annoyed. He took a deep breath to steady the anger. ‘Her friends are taking her to Ely Brasserie in Grand Canal Dock.’
‘How do you know this?’
He looked sheepish. ‘I just know.’
‘Adam,’ I warned, ‘I specifically told you not to talk to her.’
‘And I didn’t. I happened to hear a message on Sean’s voicemail.’
‘How could you happen to hear that?’
‘Because Sean’s an idiot who never remembers to change the pin code for his voicemail. I’ve been listening to his messages since Monday.’
I gasped. ‘I didn’t know you could do that.’
‘So you obviously haven’t changed your code.’
I made a mental note to do it immediately. ‘It doesn’t matter, you listen to my voicemails anyway.’ I thought of the message he had heard and deleted. It was killing me to know what Barry had said, but I couldn’t ask Adam any more than I had and in a way didn’t want to hear the answer. I moved on. ‘So what have the messages said?’
‘He’s worried Maria is a bit distant these days, ever since Sunday when I found out about them, but even more over the past few days. They’ve taken a break, or she’s asked for space, to think.’
‘About you,’ I whispered.
Adam shrugged but there was light in his eyes.
‘Yes, Adam!’ I held my two hands up.
We high-fived and then he pulled me into a hug.
‘Thank you,’ he said into my ear, both arms wrapped tight around my waist.
His breath left goose bumps all over my body.
‘No problem,’ I said, wanting to stay there. I forced myself to pull away. ‘Now let’s get busy.’
‘What are we doing?’
‘You may have given her Paris last year but this year, my dear, you are going to bake her a birthday cake.’
Kitchen in the Castle was a unique cookery course operating from a kitchen in Howth Castle that dated all the way back to 1177. Always a popular venue for date nights and girls’ nights out, this Friday evening was no different. The class was mainly made up of couples, of all ages, with one definite first date. There was also a group of three girls in their early twenties who seemed to get a case of the giggles as soon as Adam walked in.
‘Christine! Yoohoo!’ I heard a woman call my name. She was large and round, with a beaming smile on a pretty and girly face. I had no idea who this woman was.
‘It’s me! Elaine!’
I kept staring at her until finally it sunk in who she was. The last time I’d seen her she had been dressed as Dracula and reading a book to an audience of terrified children. In the last couple of days, since Amelia’s mother had passed on, she’d been helping out in the bookshop.
‘I’m here on a date,’ she whispered so that her date beside her wouldn’t hear. She failed miserably.
I reached out to shake his hand and was instantly sure that the man was gay.
‘I met him at my “How to Fall in Love” class.’
‘Your what class?’
‘Haven’t you heard about it? Goodness, all the girls are going – lots of men too. Which is why I’m going,’ she was still talking sotto voce. ‘That’s how I met Marvin.’ She giggled and pointed at him proudly, then giggled again. This time she snorted and her eyes opened in shock and her hand flew to her nose to stop it from happening again. The twenty-somethings laughed together over what seemed to be a dirty joke or suggestive remark, or at least I imagined it was from the way they were watching Adam. One of them was moving closer to him. He smiled at her.
‘And this is Adam,’ I said loudly, placing a hand on his arm and tugging him closer to me. ‘Adam, this is Elaine. She’s been telling me about the “How to Fall in Love” classes she attends.’
‘Oh, it’s fantastic! The course is run by Irma Livingstone – you know, the woman who writes the …’ her voice dropped ‘… sex books. It’s in the local church hall—’
‘Appropriate,’ interrupted Adam.
‘Yes,’ she continued, not realising what he’d said. ‘And each week we learn tips on how to meet your equal and fall in love, and then we’re encouraged to act out what we’ve learned with other members of the class.’
‘So this is homework?’ Adam said.
‘No, it’s a date,’ she said quickly, defensively.
Marvin looked a little pained.
‘You should come too.’ She nudged me, but seemed unaware of her own strength and shoved me so hard that I flew into Adam, who steadied me again.
‘Yeah, you should go too,’ Adam said, fixing me with a playful smile.
‘If I do, then you’ll be coming with me,’ I said, and his smile disappeared.
‘I heard about what happened with your husband,’ Elaine said in a low voice again. She looked at me pityingly. ‘I met your husband, ex-husband, when I was going to work a few days ago. He told me what happened … and that he was giving you back your golf club. I’m glad it’s been so amicable. It wasn’t like that with me and Eamon – that’s my ex-husband,’ she said, a shadow falling over her usually jolly disposi
tion.
‘My golf club?’ I asked, confused. ‘But I don’t play golf.’
‘Yes, you do,’ Adam said. ‘He left it on the windshield of your car, remember?’
‘He … ohhhh. Right, yes.’ So it had been him.
The cooking instructor welcomed us all to the class and we gathered around a main work bench, our names on stickers on our chests, to watch the display. The more serious couples took notes while Adam and I barely listened, and then it was our turn to start making our cakes. Adam folded his arms and looked at me. He was telling me he was there because he had to be, not because he wanted to be. I took the butter brush and began brushing the pan.
‘So what did you learn today?’ Adam asked Elaine.
‘Today was about falling in love for the right reasons,’ she said earnestly. ‘And how to identify what those reasons are.’
‘Wow. How much does this course cost?’ he asked sarcastically.
Elaine wasn’t stupid. She eyed him suspiciously, a little offended. ‘One hundred and fifty euro for ten weeks. But Irma recommends two courses.’
‘I bet she does.’ He nodded seriously. ‘Christine, are you sure that’s right?’
‘I’ve ended up paying everything I’ve ever owned for love, no point in asking me my opinion,’ I said as I tried to sprinkle flour evenly over the butter in the dish.
‘No, I meant the cake.’ He smiled at me.
‘Oh. She said the butter goes there so that the cake won’t stick, and the flour is so the cake doesn’t get greasy,’ I said, getting frustrated as the flour stuck in uneven patterns to the tray and looked a claggy mess. I really was not enjoying myself. I didn’t like cooking, baking even less so, and instead of Adam experiencing another ‘joy’ of life, I was doing it instead. It was rather joyless.
‘Okay, time for you to do your bit now – make the batter,’ I said, looking for a cloth to wipe my buttery hands on.
Adam was looking at me with an amused expression.
‘What?’ I snapped.
‘Nothing. Just observing you enjoying life, that’s all.’ He returned his attention to Elaine. ‘So what kinds of things did you learn about when she was teaching you how to fall in love for the right reasons?’
Turning her back on her date, Elaine filled us in on her class. ‘Irma says that we think of falling in love as something magical and mysterious that happens to us and we have no control over it, which is why it’s called “falling”. But falling in love happens when a series of events occur with one person.’
She had Adam rapt.
‘And, like anything in your life, if you want it to happen you have to make it happen. You can’t sit on your couch at home and expect to fall in love. You have to be an active participant in the process. Irma teaches us the steps on how to be active in our quest to fall in love.’
‘Like …’
‘Like, narrow down what you want, be yourself, expand your social circle, be realistic about setbacks, laugh a lot, listen, be witty, tell some secrets, keep it fun. She teaches us about it in class and then we have practical work, exercises after class.’
‘What kind of exercises?’
‘Last week we had to go on a date and practise the listen technique, where you speak for twenty per cent of the time and listen for eighty per cent.’
‘Listening’s a technique now?’ Adam asked, amused.
‘You’d be amazed how many people don’t do it,’ she said. ‘Well, I went on a date with someone from the class and it didn’t go well. We were both trying to listen and nobody was doing any talking.’
Adam laughed.
‘Chef! Are we concentrating?’ the good-natured instructor called him out. A few heads turned and Adam tried to look busy.
‘The next lesson is secrets,’ Elaine whispered excitedly. ‘We’ll play a game of “Never Have I Ever”. And then we’ll ask questions like what’s your most embarrassing moment, favourite childhood memory, greatest fear, any hidden talents, what things do you do only when you’re all alone, what would your perfect day be? You know the kind of thing.’
‘So that’s your next class?’ Adam asked, looking at her date who was doing all the work so far, as was I for him.
She nodded enthusiastically.
Adam looked as if he was about to come out with a sarcastic remark, but he stopped himself. ‘Good luck with that, Elaine.’
‘Thank you. You too,’ she smiled.
He looked at me, all red in the face from battling with the batter, and he smiled.
‘She’s going to find out a secret or two about Marvin, that’s for sure,’ I whispered. Adam chuckled.
‘I didn’t think you were listening,’ he said.
‘Twenty per cent listening. Eighty per cent trying to make batter.’
‘I’ll help.’ He reached for an egg.
‘Make sure you don’t throw it at the wall,’ I muttered.
Adam smiled and cracked an egg. ‘You’re witty.’ Then he looked at me, thoughtful for a moment.
‘What, have I got flour on my face?’
‘No.’
‘You have to separate them.’ I pushed the bowl across to him.
‘I don’t know how to do that. You’re separated, you can do it.’
‘Ha ha,’ I said, unimpressed. ‘You keep getting funnier and funnier.’
‘It’s all this joyful living you’re making me do.’
Elaine watched us, amused.
‘You do three and I’ll do three,’ I said, and it was agreed.
Adam cracked the egg and moaned about the feel of the white on his fingers. He put the broken yolk in one bowl, white and egg shells in the other. He was worse on the second, better on the third. I tried to fish the shells out of the white. Instead of putting the sugar into the egg yolk, I emptied it into the egg white. When I noticed what I’d done, I immediately started scooping it out and spooned it into the other bowl hoping the instructor wouldn’t see. Adam sniggered. I poured vanilla and lemon extract in. Then I started to fluff the egg whites while Adam went into a daydream, no doubt thinking of his precious Maria. I couldn’t help it, I dipped my chin into the fluffed egg whites, making a long thin beard, and turned to Adam. I put on the voice of his father, low and croaky.
‘My son, you must take control of the company. You’re a Basil, Dazzle!’
He looked at me in surprise then threw his head back and laughed, properly, louder than I had ever heard him before, such a joyous, free sound. The instructor stopped talking, the class turned around to stare at us. Adam apologised to everyone but couldn’t quite manage to keep it together.
‘Excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment,’ he said, and made his way down the quiet kitchen, laughing to himself, unable to stop, holding his stomach as if it was sore from laughing.
They all looked at me. The egg white dripped from my chin and I smiled at them all.
‘Your cake is in the oven; it will take twenty minutes. Here,’ I said, joining Adam outside. I handed him his coat, then revealed a glass of champagne. ‘We have a ten-minute break and then we’re icing.’ I took a glug of the champagne.
He watched me, his eyes alight, and then he laughed again, another fit taking hold of him. It was a contagious laugh and soon I was joining in, though I was laughing at him laughing at … I wasn’t sure exactly. After a while he stopped, then started again a little, then stopped.
‘I haven’t laughed this much in a long time,’ he said, his breath travelling on the cold air.
‘And it wasn’t even that funny.’
He cracked up again. ‘It was,’ he managed to squeak.
‘If I’d known putting egg whites on my chin would fix you, I’d have done it days ago,’ I smiled.
‘You,’ he looked at me, his face alive, his eyes bright. ‘You’re a tonic. They should prescribe you for depression instead of pills.’
I was truly flattered by the compliment. It was the nicest thing he’d said to me and the closest I’d come to feeling I wasn’t in
the way of his life. Instead of saying something nice, I switched into therapist mode. ‘Have you ever been on anti-depressants?’
He took a moment to think about it, reverting back to the client, the questioned one. ‘Once. I went to a GP, told him how I was feeling, and he prescribed them. But it didn’t quite help me in the way I wanted. I stopped taking them after a month or two.’
‘Because they didn’t deal with the root of the problem,’ I said.
He looked at me and I could tell he was annoyed by my comment. He knew I was going to urge him to see a therapist again and so I held back.
‘And cake-making is the perfect way to get to the root.’ I smiled.
‘Of course, because you know exactly what you’re doing,’ he said gently.
‘Of course.’
We were silent for a while and I wondered whether this was the moment to admit that I felt way out of my depth, or whether him hinting at it was acknowledgement enough. As if sensing what was coming, he snapped out of his trance and broke the silence.
‘Right, let’s get icing.’
Before decorating our cakes, we first had to take them out of the oven. Ours was the only cake in the whole class to collapse in the middle. Almost magically, before our very eyes as soon as it hit the air, the centre collapsed in a little poof.
In turn, we collapsed into such hysterics that I almost wet myself and we were politely but swiftly asked to leave.
15
How to Reap What You Sow
En route to Maria’s birthday celebration dinner in Dublin’s city centre we stopped at a Spar to decorate her cake. We were still giddy, almost in a drunken state, laughing at every minor amusing thing that happened, both of us having been starved of such emotions for too long. Adam carried the heart-shaped sponge cake with the collapsed uncooked mushy centre and a burned ring on the outside.