ABBY
The temperatures in Dublin increase dramatically during the week. The June sunshine penetrates the clouds, casting an optimistic glow on even the dullest of buildings in the city. The weather’s lightened everyone’s spirits, superfood for the soul.
Today’s Ask Abby was a good one; The Almost Affair. The amount of people in this country who embark on ‘textual relationships’ (full cyber relationships with emotional attachments or dependence) outside of their marriage or partnership is outstanding. The show caused an uproar.
My ratings are up already. I’m marginally ahead of Sally’s Soul Show, and that’s before I bring out the big guns.
Today we broadcast the first teaser of Callum’s advertising jingle. For thirty seconds his voice echoed huskily around the studio, loaded with promise. I hate to admit that the rich depth and tone of it resulted in even me swooning. The women of the country will be clawing each other’s eyes out in desperation to speak to him when the day comes. Callum’s seductive confidence will provide the perfect entertainment for radio.
Thoughts of him have consumed me since Monday. The irrational part of my brain begs me to submit to his advances. It’s only sex. Possibly the best sex I might have in my entire life, if the escalating chemistry is anything to go by. The rational part of me reminds me that if I were to really get involved, my humiliation would be on a whole new scale, a very public one.
I arranged to meet Karen for a late lunch in St. Stephen’s Green, the first time I’ve seen her since Carton House, though she only works around the corner from me in a hotel on Merrion Square. We laze on a fold-up picnic blanket from a nearby souvenir shop, sitting companionably on the manicured grass, soaking up the first real warmth of the year. Couples stroll by us, arm in arm, and groups of teenagers gather in clusters between exams. This is my favourite time of year.
‘How are the wedding plans going?’ I ask between mouthfuls of a chicken tikka roll.
‘Oh, Abby, I honestly don’t know.’ Karen waves her hand dismissively.
‘What is it?’ A sliver of worry tears through my stomach.
An image of Dan leaving her at the aisle flashes through my head. It’s my first assumption, and I need to rein it in. Not all men are the same as Sean Fitzpatrick.
‘I don’t know…I just…’ She struggles to find the right words as she runs her fingers over her thick fringe and pats it firmly back into place.
‘Is something up with Dan?’ I ask outright.
‘It’s me,’ she admits shame-faced.
‘What do you mean it’s you?’ I’m dumbfounded that she might let the daft notions of that old witch from Wicklow influence her decisions.
‘I just don’t know if it’s right,’ she says.
‘Is this because of what Esmerelda predicted?’
Karen’s impressionable at the best of times, giving way too much airtime to what other people think. But I didn’t expect this.
‘I’m not that daft, but it got me thinking to be honest.’ She twists the corner of her navy pencil skirt around her finger distractedly.
‘Well, what then?’ A desperation to get to the crux of the matter niggles me, which probably has more to do with my past situation than her current one. I still fail to understand how a person could go from agreeing to get married, plan a wedding and yet not follow through with it at the very end.
‘I’m having doubts.’ She signals me to stay quiet with one finger, before I can interrupt with my protest.
I close my mouth and sit on my hands. People stroll by without a care in the world while my best friend rattles my insides with her unexpected revelation.
‘Dan and I are so different. When I think about it, we kind of fell into a routine with each other. It’s probably more a marriage of convenience than anything. After ten years, our family and friends expect us to get married, the questions keep coming. It’s not as if either of us are desperate to tie ourselves to each other in that way otherwise.’ She sheepishly glances over my shoulder, refusing to make eye contact, aware that this is a little close to home for me.
‘What does Dan say about this?’ I close my low-hanging jaw to mask my shock.
‘I asked him why he wanted to marry me.’ Hysteria tinges her voice as she remembers.
‘And?’
‘He said that’s what people do.’ Her eyes fall to the ground and she lets out a long-winded sigh.
‘Ah.’ He could have given her any other reason than that one.
‘So what are you going to do? Maybe if you explain your feelings clearly to him, you could discuss it properly. Dan’s a good man.’ I can’t just let her walk away. What if he’s just being a typical guy about the whole thing? They find it hard to articulate the right words sometimes.
‘He’s a good man. I think that might be the problem… Sorry, I wasn’t sure whether to tell you or not. I know it might hit a nerve with you.’
