Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married by Marian Keyes Page B
Authors: Marian Keyes
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happens to you, I laugh myself hoarse. It's the rule."
"It's not actually," he said mildly. "I can't deny that you seem to get great enjoyment whenever I have bad luck, but it's not true to say that I laugh at any of your misfortunes."
A pause.
"Let's face it," he said kindly. "I'd spend my entire life laughing if that was the case."
"Goodbye, Daniel," I said coldly, pulling the phone toward me.
"Wait, Lucy!" he shouted. "It was a joke. Good lord," he muttered. "You're so much nicer when you have your sense of humor plugged in."
I said nothing, because I wasn't sure whether or not to believe that he had been joking. I was very sensitive about the seemingly disproportionate amount of disasters that befell me. I was terrified of being ridiculed and, even more so, of being pitied.
The silence continued.
What a waste of a phone bill, I thought sadly. Then I tried to pull myself together. Life was bad enough, I thought. There was no need whatsoever for me to go into a total slump about the tragedy of unspoken words on a telephone call. To pass the time I flicked through my magazine. I found an article on colonic irrigation. Ugh, I thought, that looks disgusting. It must be good. lucy sullivan is getting married / 91
Then I ate two Rolos. One on its own wasn't enough.
"I hear you're not getting married," Daniel finally said, after the silence had stretched taut.
"No, Daniel, I'm not getting married," I agreed. "I hope I've made your weekend. Now I want to go. Goodbye."
"Lucy, please," he begged.
"Daniel," I interrupted wearily, "I'm really not in the mood for this."
I didn't even want to talk to someone, let alone bicker with him.
"I'm sorry," he said apologetically.
"Are you?" I asked suspiciously.
"I am," he said. "Really."
"Fine," I said. "But I really want to go now."
"You're still pissed off with me," he said. "I can tell."
"No, Daniel, I'm not," I said wearily. "But I just want to be left alone."
"Oh no," he said. "Does this mean that you're going to disappear until next weekend with a box of cookies?"
"Maybe." I laughed slightly. "See you in a week."
"I'll stop by every so often to turn you," he said. "I don't want you getting bedsores again."
"Thanks."
"No, look, Lucy," he said. "Why don't you come out with me tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night?" I asked. "Saturday night. That's the night for going to parties and trying to meet men, not for going out with old friends. That's what God invented Monday nights for."
An alarming thought suddenly struck me.
"Where are you?" I demanded suspiciously.
"Er, at home," he said, sounding shamefaced.
"On a Friday night?" I asked in astonishment. "And 92 / marian keyes
you want to go out with me on a Saturday night? What's wrong?"
Then I knew. And my spirits lifted perceptibly.
"She's dumped you, hasn't she?" I said, coaxingly. "That woman Ruth has come to her senses. Although I have to admit that up until now I didn't actually think she had any senses to come to."
I always made unkind remarks about Daniel's girlfriends. I thought that any woman stupid enough to become involved with someone so obviously flirtatious and commitment-shy as Daniel deserved to have disparaging things said about her.
"Now aren't you glad that I called?" he said nicely. "Aren't you glad that you didn't just pawn me off on the answering machine?"
"Thanks, Daniel," I said, feeling slightly better. "You're very thoughtful. A trouble shared is a trouble doubled. So what happened?"
"Oh," he said vaguely. "Just one of those things. I'll tell you all about it when I see you tomorrow night."
"Daniel," I said gently, "you're not seeing me tomorrow night."
"But Lucy," he said reasonably. "I've made a reservation for dinner."
"But Daniel," I said, equally reasonably, "you shouldn't have done that without consulting me. You know how unpredictable my moods are. And at the moment I'm no fun at all."
"Well, you see," he explained, "I had the
"It's not actually," he said mildly. "I can't deny that you seem to get great enjoyment whenever I have bad luck, but it's not true to say that I laugh at any of your misfortunes."
A pause.
"Let's face it," he said kindly. "I'd spend my entire life laughing if that was the case."
"Goodbye, Daniel," I said coldly, pulling the phone toward me.
"Wait, Lucy!" he shouted. "It was a joke. Good lord," he muttered. "You're so much nicer when you have your sense of humor plugged in."
I said nothing, because I wasn't sure whether or not to believe that he had been joking. I was very sensitive about the seemingly disproportionate amount of disasters that befell me. I was terrified of being ridiculed and, even more so, of being pitied.
The silence continued.
What a waste of a phone bill, I thought sadly. Then I tried to pull myself together. Life was bad enough, I thought. There was no need whatsoever for me to go into a total slump about the tragedy of unspoken words on a telephone call. To pass the time I flicked through my magazine. I found an article on colonic irrigation. Ugh, I thought, that looks disgusting. It must be good. lucy sullivan is getting married / 91
Then I ate two Rolos. One on its own wasn't enough.
"I hear you're not getting married," Daniel finally said, after the silence had stretched taut.
"No, Daniel, I'm not getting married," I agreed. "I hope I've made your weekend. Now I want to go. Goodbye."
"Lucy, please," he begged.
"Daniel," I interrupted wearily, "I'm really not in the mood for this."
I didn't even want to talk to someone, let alone bicker with him.
"I'm sorry," he said apologetically.
"Are you?" I asked suspiciously.
"I am," he said. "Really."
"Fine," I said. "But I really want to go now."
"You're still pissed off with me," he said. "I can tell."
"No, Daniel, I'm not," I said wearily. "But I just want to be left alone."
"Oh no," he said. "Does this mean that you're going to disappear until next weekend with a box of cookies?"
"Maybe." I laughed slightly. "See you in a week."
"I'll stop by every so often to turn you," he said. "I don't want you getting bedsores again."
"Thanks."
"No, look, Lucy," he said. "Why don't you come out with me tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night?" I asked. "Saturday night. That's the night for going to parties and trying to meet men, not for going out with old friends. That's what God invented Monday nights for."
An alarming thought suddenly struck me.
"Where are you?" I demanded suspiciously.
"Er, at home," he said, sounding shamefaced.
"On a Friday night?" I asked in astonishment. "And 92 / marian keyes
you want to go out with me on a Saturday night? What's wrong?"
Then I knew. And my spirits lifted perceptibly.
"She's dumped you, hasn't she?" I said, coaxingly. "That woman Ruth has come to her senses. Although I have to admit that up until now I didn't actually think she had any senses to come to."
I always made unkind remarks about Daniel's girlfriends. I thought that any woman stupid enough to become involved with someone so obviously flirtatious and commitment-shy as Daniel deserved to have disparaging things said about her.
"Now aren't you glad that I called?" he said nicely. "Aren't you glad that you didn't just pawn me off on the answering machine?"
"Thanks, Daniel," I said, feeling slightly better. "You're very thoughtful. A trouble shared is a trouble doubled. So what happened?"
"Oh," he said vaguely. "Just one of those things. I'll tell you all about it when I see you tomorrow night."
"Daniel," I said gently, "you're not seeing me tomorrow night."
"But Lucy," he said reasonably. "I've made a reservation for dinner."
"But Daniel," I said, equally reasonably, "you shouldn't have done that without consulting me. You know how unpredictable my moods are. And at the moment I'm no fun at all."
"Well, you see," he explained, "I had the
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