The Year I Met You

  I sit down in the single armchair that has been left free for me, all eyes on me. Yours are twinkling with merriment, so happy to see me looking uncomfortable and vulnerable, vulture that you are. Monday’s eyes are hard and cold and he stares at the leg of the coffee table, whatever previous concern he had for me now dead and buried. Caroline’s eyes are bloodshot and she refuses the passing plate of Jaffa Cakes as though it’s a ticking bomb.

  Kevin is staring at me intently, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, trying to channel his good happy positive pervy thoughts in my direction. This is unsettling. His hairy toes in his flip-flops poking out from beneath his skin-tight brown cords are unsettling. He is unsettling, period. Leilah is afraid to look at me, I know it; she’s chewing on her lip and looking around the room and wondering why she didn’t marry a man with a less complicated family. Dad is on one side of her, texting slowly with big thick fingers. Monday is squeezed on the other side of her.

  ‘Have you two met?’ I ask, and they both nod simultaneously, Monday still not looking me in the eye.

  Jamie begins. ‘Thank you all for coming here today. Heather has taken the time to contact you all individually, she has put a great deal of planning and thought into this, and you’re all welcome. Over to you, Heather.’

  I tuck my legs up on the couch and hug them, protecting my body. I try to tell myself that I’m doing this for Heather, this is an exercise for her, she has organised this and, as patronising as it sounds, it’s true, and it helps me. But as soon as I hear her voice I want to cry, I’m so proud of her.

  ‘Thank you all for coming. For over fifteen years, my sister Jasmine has been coming to my circle of support and it has helped me so much, now I want to give her the same experience. You are Jasmine’s circle of support, her circle of friends.’ She looks around proudly.

  I look at the people who have shown up and I feel pathetic. You wink at me and stuff a biscuit into your mouth and I want to physically harm you. I will physically harm you.

  ‘We want to show you that we love you and support you and we are here for you,’ Heather says, and starts clapping.

  The others join in, some enthusiastically, Caroline gently because the noise is hurting her ears. You wolf-whistle. Dad looks at you like he wants to punch you. It is as if Monday is not here, but I know he is, I feel his energy every time he’s in a room, my eyes are drawn to him each time I’m near him, my body is drawn to him each time, every single part of me wants me to move towards him.

  ‘My little sister Jasmine was always busy. Busy busy busy. When she’s not busy, she minds me. But now she is not busy and she doesn’t need to mind me any more. She needs to mind herself.’

  Tears spring to my eyes. I cover myself with arms, legs, hands, everything twisted and folded and saying ‘Closed’.

  They all stare at me. I. Want. To. Die. Right now.

  I clear my throat, stop hiding behind my legs and instead place them on the ground. I cross them.

  ‘Thank you all for coming. I’m sure you all know this is a surprise so I’m not really prepared for this, but thank you, Heather, for organising it. I know you have my best interests in your heart.’ I’m going to keep it basic. Give them something but nothing, not let anybody in, but look like I’m playing along. Take all constructive criticism with a smile. Thank them. Move on. That’s the game plan. ‘Losing my job in November was really tough. I did love that job and it’s been very difficult the past six months, not being able to get up in the morning and feel … useful.’ I clear my throat. ‘But now I’m realising – or have realised – that it isn’t as bad as I thought.’

  Would telling them that I’m enjoying aspects of it, in a way I never thought I could, give too much away? I look at your eager face, then at Kevin so engaged, at Monday who instantly averts his pan-faced gaze to the coffee-table leg, and decide they don’t need to know about my gardening therapy. Telling them that it’s helping me would be tantamount to admitting that I needed help, and I don’t want to go there.

  ‘So. The plan is,’ I direct this at Heather, seeing as it is her concerns which have led to this meeting and therefore her no longer being concerned could quickly draw this meeting to a close. ‘To carry out my gardening leave for the remaining six months and then, get a job, so thank you all for your help in the past and your support now, and for coming here today.’

  I end it chirpily and perkily and positively, no cause for consternation or alarm. Jasmine is A-okay.

  ‘Wow.’ You break the silence. ‘That was moving, Jasmine. That was deep. I really feel like I have a sense of you now,’ you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. You pop a Pringle into your mouth. I can smell the sour cream and onion from here and my stomach churns.

  ‘Well, what do you plan to do after your gardening leave, Matt? Share with us.’

  ‘Hey, this isn’t my circle of friends,’ you reply, that smirk on your face.

  ‘Nor mine, evidently,’ I snap back.

  ‘Let’s keep this positive,’ Kevin says in his priestly voice, hands raised. He lowers them slowly, as if hypnotising us into calming, or like it’s a dance routine from a nineties boyband.

  ‘I’m calm,’ you say, picking up another Pringle.

  You should have gained weight with all the snacking and picking you’ve been doing since quitting smoking, but you haven’t. You seem trimmer, fitter, fresher than before, which is because of the no alcohol.

  ‘I think it’s fair to say that, aside from Peter and Heather, I seem to have known Jasmine the longest amount of time.’ Kevin looks at me and smiles. I shudder. ‘So I feel that I understand and know her the best.’

  ‘Really,’ you say, turning on him. ‘So you can tell us which of the three jobs is best suited to her then.’

  You have landed both Kevin and I in the shit. Neither of us have a clue, for different reasons of course.

  ‘Three jobs?’ Caroline says, annoyed.

  Monday’s head snaps up to look at me with a frown, trying to figure me out, this great big liar who has appeared before him. Discussing the two other jobs with him was pointless as the only one I was considering was the one he was offering. But this point that you have so kindly raised makes me look like a three-timer.

  It is ironic that it is you that knows me best out of all these people and that is the most loaded question to ask, because the three people who offered me those jobs are here and for the most part they know nothing about each other. They are all looking at me and waiting for an answer. You miss stirring it up on air and so you’re using my life for your own amusement.

  I realise I’m staring at you in loathing in a long silence.

  ‘What are the three options?’ Kevin asks, looking at me with a gentle, soft, understanding smile as if he’s helping me out. ‘Hmm?’

  I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Suddenly I break the tension with, ‘Monday, I don’t know if you’ve met my cousin?’

  Monday snaps to attention at his name being called, I can’t imagine how this must feel for everybody who has been called here but I’m awkward so they must feel worse.

  ‘Have you met my cousin?’

  ‘Well, we’re not really—’ Kevin interrupts.

  ‘He’s my cousin,’ I say. ‘Kevin, this is Monday.’

  They shake hands across the coffee table and you smirk, knowing exactly what I’m doing.

  Silence.

  ‘So the reason I mention Monday is because he’s with Diversified Search International and he headhunted me for a job at DavidGordonWhite.’

  Dad leans forward and gets a look at Monday as if suddenly he counts now.

  ‘But that job is gone so, Monday, if you feel like you want to leave here now, nobody will be insulted,’ I say, smiling nervously. I want him to go, I don’t want the man I adore to hear how messed up I am in this circle of terror, and after what he heard Caroline say I can feel him seething. Let him go.

  ‘Why isn’t the job an option any more?’ Dad asks.


  I look at Monday. It’s now his opportunity for retribution but he doesn’t say anything.

  ‘Um. I didn’t make it to the interview,’ I answer instead.

  Dad effs and blinds.

  ‘Peter,’ Leilah elbows him and Heather’s eyes widen and look at me with surprise.

  ‘Well, why didn’t you make it to the interview?’ Dad asks, exasperated.

  ‘She was ill,’ Monday finally says, though I don’t feel like he’s defending me. His voice is still flat and devoid of … Monday. ‘I think we should hear about the other jobs,’ he adds. ‘I wasn’t aware there were other options for you.’

  The way he says other options makes me wonder if he’s not talking about the job, if he’s talking about Laurence. There is so much that I want to explain to him when this is all finished – only to him, though. I don’t care what anybody else thinks. As for you, you are the only person who knows everything already.

  ‘Sick, my arse,’ Dad mumbles and he gets another elbow from Leilah.

  ‘You were sick, Jasmine?’ Heather asks, so concerned. ‘Were you sick in Cork?’

  ‘Hold on, you were in Cork?’ Jamie asks, sitting forward. ‘I thought we agreed that Heather should go alone. Didn’t we say that?’ She looks at Leilah, who had also been at the meeting.

  Leilah looks at me, clearly feeling conflicted, not wanting to step on anybody’s toes. I can see the battle going on in her head.

  ‘Well?’ Dad asks her.

  ‘Yes,’ she says, as if the word has been coughed up by a slap on the back. ‘But I’m sure Jasmine went for a reason.’

  Jamie addresses the circle. ‘Heather had her first holiday away with her boyfriend, Jonathan. At Heather’s circle of support we all agreed that she was more than capable of going alone, and any actions contrary to this would be seen as unhelpful to Heather—’

  ‘Okay, Jamie, thank you,’ I snap. I rub my face tiredly.

  ‘So why did you go?’ Jamie asks, her voice less strident now.

  ‘She was worried about her,’ Kevin speaks up on my behalf. ‘Obviously.’

  ‘When did you go, Heather?’ Monday asks gently.

  ‘Friday till Monday.’ She smiles.

  He nods, absorbing this. ‘Did you have a good time?’

  ‘The best!’ She grins.

  Monday is looking at me with newfound softness. Everyone but Dad is. Dad’s shaking his head at me and concentrating on his phone in an effort to stop himself from blurting something out. This is not good. I feel a burning behind my eyes. I cannot cry.

  ‘I was just … she’s never been … it was the first time that she … you know, with a …’ I sigh, all eyes on me. I hear the wobble in my voice. I finally look at Heather. ‘I wasn’t ready to let you go.’ Before I can do anything to stop it, a tear falls and I wipe it away before it reaches my chin, like it never happened.

  Heather’s cheeks turn pink and she speaks shyly. ‘I’m not going anywhere, Jasmine. I’m not leaving you. You missed your job interview for me?’

  On that, another tear falls. And another. I wipe them all away quickly, eyes down, not wanting to see them watching me.

  ‘Can I please be excused?’ I say, sounding like a child.

  Nobody answers. Nobody feels like they have the authority to tell me yes or no.

  ‘Hi, Monday. I knew about you,’ Caroline suddenly says, snapping out of her hangover, stepping in to save me. ‘I’m Caroline, I’m Jasmine’s friend.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘I have a website idea that she’s helping me with.’

  That immediately makes me grind my teeth, but I hold my tongue.

  ‘What’s wrong, Jasmine?’ Kevin asks, studying me.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say. But it’s clipped and my nothing sounds like a something. ‘Well, it’s just that I’m not exactly “helping” with it. I am developing it with you, which is what I do, development, implement … “helping” sounds … you know …’

  Her neck almost snaps in the way her head fires around to look at me.

  She looks at me in that way she does when she’s offended. The single blink, the tight shiny forehead – though that is also due to the Botox – and I would usually retreat because she’s my friend, though in business I would persevere, which immediately tells me we’re doomed.

  ‘And then there’s Dad,’ I say, quickly moving on.

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ Kevin says. ‘I think we should continue here.’

  ‘Kevin, this is not a therapy session.’ I smile tightly. ‘It’s just a little chat. And I think we’re getting close to the end now.’

  ‘I think for you to get the best out of this you should—’

  I interrupt Kevin. ‘This isn’t the time to—’

  ‘I’m happy to thrash it out.’ Caroline shrugs as if she hasn’t a care in the world, but her language, not to mention body language, says differently. I do not wish to thrash anything out with her.

  Everyone is looking at me and her. You sit forward in your chair, elbows on your thighs. All you’re missing is a bowl of popcorn. You pump the air lightly with your fist and quietly chant, ‘Fight, fight, fight!’ then chuckle.

  ‘We’re not going to fight,’ I snap at you. ‘Okay,’ I clear my throat, smile at Heather to centre myself. ‘I feel that I could be of more use to you than you are currently allowing me to be.’

  That wasn’t even bad, yet she has screwed her face up so much I think she’s going to spring back at me like a jack in the box.

  ‘How so?’ she squeaks in a shrill tone.

  ‘You’ve come to me to help bring the idea further, but you won’t actually take on any of my suggestions.’

  ‘You have experience in setting up companies. I wouldn’t have the first clue.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not just about giving you my contact list, Caroline. In setting companies up I have a hand in developing strategies, implementing them. If I can’t develop this with you then I have no real personal interest in it. It has to represent me too,’ I say gently, but firmly.

  We all sit in silence while Caroline stares at me in a delayed kind of stunned state.

  ‘What’s the other job option?’ Kevin asks then, and I’m grateful to him for moving things along.

  ‘Her dad,’ you say, and everyone looks at you first and then at Dad.

  Probably already bored by the gathering, he gets straight to the point. ‘Accounts director, print company. Team of six. Forty K. If the job’s still there.’

  ‘It is,’ Leilah says to me, which annoys Dad.

  ‘She could do it in her sleep,’ he says to the room, looking at the mobile phone in his hand as though he’s reading it, but he isn’t. ‘If she shows up to the interview.’

  Monday doesn’t join in with Dad on that jibe, which is what he was hoping. His smile disappears.

  ‘I don’t exactly want a job I can do in my sleep,’ I say, with a smile.

  ‘Of course you don’t, you want to be different.’

  The comment surprises me. You love it, but not in the same way as the previous comments. You turn your studious gaze to him. Kevin of course is deeply offended on my behalf.

  ‘Now, Peter. I think that you owe Jasmine an apology for that comment.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he snaps.

  Heather looks deeply uncomfortable now.

  ‘You’ve always been the same, ever since we were kids,’ Kevin says, the anger rising in him. ‘Any time Jasmine hasn’t wanted to do what you want, you push her away.’

  This is true. I look at Dad.

  ‘Jasmine has never done what I’ve wanted her to do. Has never done what anyone but herself has wanted her to do. How do you think she’s found herself in this mess in the first place?’

  ‘Isn’t it a good thing for her to want to go her own way?’ Kevin asks. ‘Shouldn’t you want her to be independent? Her mother died when she was very young. She was sick for years before that. I don’t remember you being there all that much, apart from when y
ou stepped in to tell her what to do and when you thought she’d got it wrong.’

  And in that moment all my conversations with Kevin flood back to me. All the worries, the fears, frustrations of my teenage years come flooding back. The late-night talks with Kevin on the swing before he kissed me, at parties, walking to school. He always listened. Everything that bothered me about my life would be shared with him. I seemed to have forgotten about all that, but evidently he hadn’t.

  ‘With all due respect,’ Dad says without the slightest hint of respect, ‘this is nothing to do with you. Frankly, I don’t even know why you’re here.’

  Kevin continues calmly, as though he’s wanted to say this for years, as if it’s himself he’s talking about. ‘Her mother brought her up to make her own decisions. Take care of herself. Find her own way. She was going to have to, because her mum wasn’t going to be there. She set up her own businesses—’

  ‘And sold every bloody one of them.’

  ‘Didn’t you sell yours?’

  ‘I retired. And trying to sell her last business is what got her fired.’

  Dad is red in the face now. Leilah puts her hand on his arm and says something in a low voice, but he ignores her, or doesn’t hear her, because he continues the back and forth with Kevin. I zone out.

  Larry treated his business like his daughter. He’d refused to let go. My mother raised me knowing she had to let go.

  I come up with ideas and sell them.

  I don’t want babies. Mum didn’t want to leave Heather, now I can’t let Heather go.

  ‘You never finish anything you start,’ I hear Larry saying to me.

  I feel dizzy. Too much is circulating in my mind. Conversations I’ve had with people are coming back to me, my personal beliefs are staring at me oddly, amused, almost singing, ‘We knew this all along, didn’t you?’

  Raise babies to let them go.

  Kevin told me I was going to die.

  Build companies to sell them.