‘ohmygodthatwasamazing,’ I exhaled, as Dougie Howser’s backward
brother released me from the slingshot capsule to an audience and Emelie
and Matthew’s cheers. My legs gave out almost instantly, but luckily there
were two pairs of arms waiting to scoop me up off the floor as Mr Bean Jr
stepped out of the way and let me fall.
‘We’re not allowed to touch customers,’ he commented above me. ‘We
hope you enjoyed your slingshot experience.’
My eyes were wide open but I was completely blind. All I could see were
blurs of colours and everything seemed very loud. I was alive. I felt very,
very alive. I imagined this was as close as I’d ever get to knowing how it
felt to be born – disoriented, deafened, and with a rapidly building urge to
start sobbing at the top of my lungs. I wanted to sit down. I wanted to tick
bungee jump off the list. I wanted to never, ever do that again.
‘I am so proud of you.’ Em threw herself at me in a huge hug. ‘That was
incredible. Matthew videoed the whole thing.’
‘I did,’ he confirmed. ‘Might set it to a soundtrack or something before
we show your mum. Either the sound on this is incredibly sensitive or your
colourful language was unbelievably loud.’
‘Bit of both?’ I suggested, taking a Bambi-on-ice step forward. ‘That was
incredible.’
‘Still scared of heights?’ Em asked, helping me down from the platform
while two roaring frat boys were strapped into the capsule in my place.
Should they be drinking beer in there?
‘Petrified,’ I confirmed. ‘But it’s done. I did it. I feel like I could do
anything.’
‘And what exactly do you want to do?’ Matthew asked.
I paused for a moment to really consider his question and give the
appropriate answer. I’d just achieved something life-changing. I’d faced my
fear head on. I had climbed Everest. I’d sailed the Atlantic. I’d found the
Louboutins in the Selfridges sale.
‘I’d take your arm off for a burger,’ I replied.
Once we’d secured all the appropriate evidence that the bungee ball had in
fact happened – photos, T-shirts, keyrings, the works, Emelie helped me
hobble over to a bench while Matthew was voted hunter/gatherer and sent
off in search of food.
‘Do you feel amazing?’ Em asked, flicking through my souvenirs. They
weren’t terribly attractive but I was too proud of myself to worry about
being vain. For the moment. There was always Photoshop.
‘I do,’ I confirmed and, with a very shaky hand, I dug around in my giant
bag for my to-do list and dutifully crossed out ‘bungee jump’. Just one item
left. I shoved it into my pocket and tried to will my stomach to settle. ‘A bit
sick but amazing.’
‘I bet everyone that does something as amazing feels a bit sick
afterwards,’ she replied, giving me a sideways hug and then utching a few
inches away just in case. ‘Like, people who walk on the moon or climb
mountains or touch Johnny Depp.’
Unsure of whether or not she was taking the piss, I gave her a tiny laugh
and rested my head on my knees, waiting for my heart to stop pounding.
The feeling in my legs I could do without, but I’d be much happier if I
wasn’t convinced I was on the verge of having a stroke. My blood pressure
really had been tested enough for one day.
‘Here you go, superstar.’ Matthew reappeared a few minutes later with
three giant brown sacks from Wendy’s. ‘Three number sevens, extra large,
with fries, onion rings and Diet Cokes.’
He set a cardboard tray down on the neighbouring bench and opened up
the bag. Dear god, it smelled good. I took out the silver wrapped sandwich
and took a bite before even asking what a number seven was. As it turned
out, number seven was code for the most delicious chicken burger I had
ever, ever put in my mouth. I’d hoovered mine down and started on the fries
while Em and Matthew were still picking the chunks of tomato out of the
bun. And that probably explained why I threw it straight back up into the
nearest bin two minutes later.
‘Are you all right?’ Matthew asked once we’d swapped benches and I’d
spent fifteen unpleasant minutes sorting myself out in a Starbucks toilet.
‘Honestly?’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied, staring out at the water. ‘I feel weird.’
‘Weird how?’
‘Like I really could do anything.’ I tried to process how I was feeling
while I spoke. It wasn’t often, at twenty-eight, you had to deal with an
entirely new emotion. ‘And that’s sort of scary. I feel like I’ve opened a
door without checking what was behind it. Like I’ve got no excuses any
more.’
‘Wow,’ Emelie was still going at her chips. ‘That’s deep for you.’
‘Yeah,’ I agreed. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘It’s been a big day,’ Matthew replied. A stiff breeze came off the falls
and blew my hair all over my face. I pushed it away and behind my ears,
waiting for Matthew to put it back, but he didn’t. He also did not mention
the fact that I was wearing a giant hoodie emblazoned with a hockeyplaying
moose. Puking always made me feel the cold and it genuinely had
been the best option in the gift shop.
‘I’ve got something for you.’ He pulled a small square of blue tissue
paper out of the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘It’s from me and Em. We got it
while you were buying twenty-five Toblerones in duty-free.’
‘I bought two,’ I muttered, taking the package. ‘What is it?’
‘Open it and you’ll find out, fatty.’ He turned back to take in the view.
‘I picked it,’ Em chimed in on my other side.
Inside the tissue was a small, pink leather notebook. The cover was
engraved in gold with the words, ‘Bliss List’. I looked up at my friends.
They were both smiling.
‘Because you’ve almost finished your list,’ he nodded towards the
notebook. ‘I’ve got you started on a new one.’
Right there, on the first page of the book was a number one, circled in
silver pen alongside the instruction, ‘Buy Matthew dinner’. I turned the
delicate pale blue page. There it was again on the second page. And the
third. And the fourth.
‘I got bored after a couple of pages.’ He leaned right over, resting his
chin on his hands. ‘There were some other fun things I wanted to put in
there but Em told me I wasn’t allowed.’
‘It’s your new single girl to-do notebook,’ Em explained. ‘All part of the
transformation. New notebooks, new start.’
‘Appreciated.’ I wrapped the book back up in the tissue paper and slipped
it into my bag. ‘Thank you, really, it’s amazing. You’re amazing.’
‘I was worried you were going to go all The Shining on us if you didn’t
start putting together a new list soon.’ Matthew shrugged. ‘Can’t fight who
you are, beautiful.’
‘You don’t think the list thing makes me a bit, well, mental?’ I asked. The
sun was starting to set behind us and the sky above the falls began to
darken.
‘Would I be friends with you if you were mental?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Because you’ve been friends with me for ages, I have
video footage of you crying at An American Tail: Fievel Goes West and I
know you get a fake tan every week. Seriously, do you think I’m mad? Or
boring?’
Emelie punched me in the arm considerably harder than was necessary.
‘What’s brought this on?’ she asked. ‘Do you even remember what you
were doing ten minutes ago?’
I gave her a hard slap back. ‘Cleaning my teeth in a Starbucks bog
because I’d just thrown up?’
‘Before that,’ she pointed out, rubbing her arm. ‘The bungee ball. The
list. The fact we’re in Canada. What happened to the new you? Did you just
puke her out?’
‘No.’ I took the list out of my pocket. ‘She’s still here. I’m just a bit
worried she won’t be once I tick off this last thing. What do I do then?’
‘Date for the wedding.’ Matthew leaned over my shoulder. ‘Someone in
mind?’
‘Actually, I was going to ask you,’ I replied. ‘It’s not tragic to take your
best friend to a wedding. Em’s going to be there, I’m going to be there, you
should be there.’
‘In that case, I’d be very honoured.’ He gave me a little bow. ‘So do it.
Tick it off.’
Taking a very deep breath, I pulled the black pen out of the bottom of my
bag and crossed it out. There.
It was done.
‘There.’ Emelie ruffled my hair and whooped loudly enough to attract the
attention of everyone in a fifteen-metre radius. Which really was quite a lot
of people. ‘You did it. You’re officially single.’
‘I suppose I am.’ I looked up. Nope, sky hadn’t fallen in. No flying pigs.
Everything was exactly as it had been two seconds before. Almost.
‘I couldn’t have done it without you two. I would’ve been face down on
my mum’s settee if you hadn’t made me do all this.’ I stared at the list
triumphantly. ‘It’s going to sound weird, but I’ve had more fun in the last
week than I have in the last five years.’
‘You haven’t exactly had the average dumpee’s week,’ Matthew
reminded me. ‘And you’ve spent a lot of time with me. I am sort of
awesome.’
‘And me.’ Em grabbed the list for a quick review. ‘I can’t believe I
punched that girl in the face.’
‘I can’t believe you’re going out with my brother.’ I screwed up my face,
fighting off another wave of nausea. ‘It’ll just be me and Matthew singing
“Single Ladies” at the wedding reception, I can already see it.’
‘Really?’ she cocked her head to one side. ‘Anything you want to share
at this point, Matthew?’
I turned altogether too quickly for my delicate stomach.
‘Oh Emelie, you giant tactless cow.’
Unfortunately for Matthew, looking at the floor didn’t work as an
avoidance technique. He was so huge and I was so tiny, I could always see
his face.
‘I’m missing something, clearly.’ I jabbed him in the hip. ‘What’s going
on?’
‘Fine.’ He stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and gave
Emelie the filthiest look he could muster. ‘Following my recent near-death
experience, which let us all remember you were the cause of, I may or may
not have seen Stephen.’
‘Woah. What?’
‘Like, totally woah,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever. I called him and
poured my stupid heart out and the long and the short of it is, he came and
got me from the hospital and we sort of decided to try again when I get
back.’
‘Is that where you’ve been disappearing to?’ I finally put two and two
together and got four, instead of putting two and two together and coming
up with ‘where is Matthew and why is he not here with me?’. ‘You’re back
together?’
‘Sort of.’ He sucked the air in through his teeth. ‘Maybe. We’re taking it
slowly.’
‘The sort of slow where you still shag random men in Canada?’ I
couldn’t quite believe I was hearing this. Stephen had destroyed Matthew.
Ripped his heart out and left him sobbing on my sofa bed for six straight
months and now they were just getting back together as if nothing had
happened?
‘I’m trying to be sensible,’ he replied. ‘Granted my kind of sensible and
your kind of sensible might not be exactly the same thing. But, for the
record, I didn’t actually shag the mountie. I’m all talk.’
I squeezed his giant arm. Matthew really was a very tall man. ‘Why
didn’t you tell me?’
‘Didn’t really seem like the right time,’ he replied. ‘And I didn’t know if
it was definitely going to happen, we’ve been talking for a while, then we
got a drink, then, well. He was going to come on my birthday but he
freaked out and didn’t. Then I called from the hospital and he said he
needed a bit of time and nothing passes time like leaving the country.’
There were no words. He’d sold me on a grand romantic adventure,
flown me halfway round the world and thrown me millions of miles up in
the air to distract himself from his ex-boyfriend’s indecision?
‘I know I should have told you and I know you’ll never approve,’ he
attempted to explain. ‘But I know he’s the one and if he hadn’t agreed to
give me a second chance, I don’t know what I would have done.’
‘You really believe in that?’ I asked quietly.
‘Because it’s true. He’s the only one I’ll ever feel this way about.
Whatever he does.’ He nodded. ‘No one has ever given you butterflies? No
bolt of lightning out of the blue?’
‘The thing about that is eventually the lightning strikes the butterfly and
all you’re left with is a nasty worm,’ I pouted. ‘Butterflies don’t last. No
one should act on butterflies.’
‘So there have been butterflies?’ Matthew started to smile. ‘Em, get the
camera out, I want her face preserved for all eternity when she admits this.’
I closed my eyes. ‘I’m going to say this really quickly and neither of you
are allowed to comment on it ever.’
Em jumped around in a close approximation of the Snoopy dance while
Matthew clenched his fists, eyes wide.
‘Let’s just say …’ I paused to see if they could keep up their end of the
deal. Shockingly, they remained silent. ‘… If I was having those sorts of
feelings about someone – the scary, gushy, can’t-stop-thinking-about-them
feelings: isn’t there just a really good chance that it’s all reboundy and that I
shouldn’t act on it?’
‘No,’ they answered simultaneously. It never wasn’t annoying when they
ganged up against me.
‘It’s Dan, isn’t it?’ Em pressed. ‘Tell me it’s Dan.’
I pressed my lips together.
‘Rachel Lulu Summers,’ Matthew looked as if he was about to burst. ‘Is
it? Are you in lurve with Dan?’
‘I suppose, oh god, I suppose the more I think about it …’ I couldn’t
quite meet their eyes. I’d just let some spotty oik teenager toss me a
hundred metres up into the air and I couldn’t look at my best friends. What
hope was there? ‘I suppose I sort of keep thinking about him.’
I closed my eyes and waited patiently for the two of them to stop
whooping and high-fiving. It was not dignified behaviour.
‘You’re not helping.’ I raised my voice, just ever so slightly. ‘I don’t
know how else to explain it.’
‘Butterflies? Lightning?’ Matthew suggested. ‘Ring any bells? Churchtype
ones?’
‘That’s the thing, though,’ I started to nibble on my thumbnail. Really,
someone was going to have to make a second Wendy’s run. ‘Butterflies and
lightning, yes, church bells, no. Dan isn’t someone you get serious with.’
‘Dan isn’t what you had in mind,’ Matthew said after one more round of
whoops. ‘But it doesn’t ever really work out like that, my love.’
‘Are we not evidence enough of that?’ Em pointed towards the two of
them. ‘I’ve had a crush on your idiot brother for ten years, and Matthew’s
going back to the cheater. No offence.’
‘None taken.’ Matthew said with a slap. ‘She might be horribly tactless
but she’s right. You can’t choose who you fall in love with, any more than
you can choose when it happens.’
‘But I don’t know what to do.’ Now I’d started talking about it, I couldn’t
stop. ‘I really like him, I just never realized. But since the thing at The
Savoy, then after you left the party and we, you know, oh my god. It was
like a punch in the face. I’ve fucked up so badly and I’ve known him for all
these years and now it’s all new and I’m confused and he’s like a different
person, and-oh-I don’t know. What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if it
was just a thing for him?’
‘You haven’t fucked up; you’re just going to have to tell him how you
feel,’ Matthew sighed, resting his arm around my shoulders. ‘Oh young
padawan, you have so much to learn.’
‘You have to call him,’ Em produced her phone and held it out. ‘Right
now.’
‘I’ve got my own bloody phone, Emelie,’ I replied, waving the evidence
in her face. ‘I just don’t know if I can.’
‘Bottom line,’ Matthew held his hands out. ‘Are you happier when
you’re with Dan than when you’re not?’
‘Maybe.’
‘What if he was just nice Dan? Not shouty Dan. What if it was just the
kissing part?’
‘I can’t pretend that idea fills me with horror.’
‘Then you call him and tell him that.’
I looked up at my giant, Teutonic beastie.
‘I love you.’
‘Love you too,’ he kissed the top of my head. ‘Even if you’re a moron.’
I looked at him and Emelie. They didn’t move. In fact, they seemed to
settle in and get comfy.
‘Do you two want to fuck off a minute?’ I suggested, pointing towards
Blackpool in the distance. ‘If I promise not to throw it up, will you bring me
another burger?’
‘I could go another one actually.’ Em patted her tiny belly and dragged
Matthew away with a smile. ‘You’ve got five minutes.’
Staring out at the water, I watched Maid of the Mist boats glide along the
placid surface of the water before turning in towards the Canadian side of
the falls where they were suddenly bounced along like tiny toys. It didn’t
look fun. More fun than calling Dan, but less fun than sitting quietly in a
corner and eating a burger.
Bloody men. Maybe I shouldn’t just stay single, maybe I should go the
whole hog and give celibacy a try. It seemed to be working out OK for the
Jonas Brothers. Britney hadn’t fared so well, though. Hmm. I knew too
much about celebrities. Maybe I should just be alone and get a cat. Maybe
two cats. I would call them ‘tragic’ and ‘spinster’ and they would be my
babies. I would dress them up in nappies and bonnets and push them around
in a pram.
Dear god, I’d finally gone insane. Probably the best time to make the
call.
‘Hello?’
‘Dan? It’s Rachel.’
I wasn’t expecting a chorus of angels to greet me on the other end, but
the near minute of complete silence was a bit awkward.
‘Dan, without wanting to be an arsehole, I’m on an iPhone 3 and the
battery on this thing is rubbish,’ I said finally.
‘Fine. What?’
OK, it was a start.
‘I just thought I’d give you a call.’ I searched for the right words but
nothing seemed like a sure-fire winner. ‘Say hello.’
‘You waited until midnight to call to say hello,’ he asked. ‘Are you
drunk?’
I looked at my watch. It was almost seven. Which did in fact make it
almost midnight in London. Cock.
‘I’m in Canada,’ I explained. ‘Sorry, I totally forgot about the time
difference. I didn’t wake you, did I?’
‘Canada?’
‘I’m visiting a friend,’ I fudged. Had I told him about Ethan? I couldn’t
remember. I couldn’t remember anything. ‘It was all a bit last-minute.’
I was not making a very good job of this. Dan was right to assume drunk
– I wished I was. Why would anyone attempt to have this sort of
conversation sober?
‘I was wondering if we could have a chat when I’m back?’ I just wanted
him to put me out of my misery. I was fairly certain I actually preferred it
when he was shouting at me in car parks.
‘You and me?’ He didn’t sound as charmed as I’d hoped he would be. ‘A
chat?’
‘Yes?’
‘What can’t you say right now?’ Dan asked. ‘Or can you not speak in
front of your Canadian boyfriend?’
He didn’t have to make it sound so stupid.
‘No,’ I swung my legs, hoping the movement might pump some sense
back into my brain. ‘I need to talk to you about the me and you stuff. The
stuff you said the other night.’
I heard a loud sigh followed by a swallow. Well, at least someone had a
drink in their hand.
‘When are you back?’
‘Thursday?’ I was fairly certain that was right. ‘Dan?’
‘I won’t be here on the Thursday,’ he replied matter-of-factly. ‘I’ve
booked a job in LA. You remember jobs?’
I bit my lip hard and drew blood.
‘You’re going to LA? Before Thursday?’ I touched my lip gingerly,
feeling the sting. ‘For how long?’
‘Don’t know. I’ve got a work visa, might stay for a while.’
‘A while?’
‘Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing,’ he replied. ‘I told this girl how I’d liked
her for years and she fucked off to Canada to see another bloke. So I made
this list to help me get over her. It basically says: go to California, shag a
load of models and never speak to her again.’
I couldn’t usually argue with a list but it really didn’t sound like this one
was going to work out well for me.
‘Dan, don’t, I’m trying.’ I’d done so well not to cry for so long but, after
everything I’d been through in the past week, I was past caring. ‘Don’t be
like this.’
‘Don’t you remember Rachel? This is who I am. This is what I do. Have
fun in Canada.’
He hung up before I could even say what I wanted to say. Whatever that
was. I redialled straight away but the call just cut off. It didn’t even go to
voicemail. And this was why falling for the butterflies was never a good
idea. I didn’t feel all bubbly and excited now. I felt cold and broken and
empty. I was all of the parts that never made it into love songs or Mike
Newell films. Mike Leigh maybe.
‘Rachel?’
I looked up to see Matthew and Emelie holding out fresh food. Their
shiny hopeful faces fell when they saw mine.
‘Did you talk to him?’ said Matthew.
‘What did he say?’ asked Emelie.
‘Nothing good.’ I took the brown paper bag and began shoving chips into
my mouth. Ahh, lovely salty chips, unburdened by gravy and cheese curds,
clogging up my arteries all on their own. Chips never let me down.
‘Are you crying?’ Matthew poked my cheek with a rough finger. ‘You’re
crying. Stop it please.’
‘Can’t,’ I mumbled through a steady stream of tears and fried potato. ‘I
don’t know why I’m doing it.’
‘Brilliant, we’ve got PMT to deal with on top of all of this.’
‘It’s not PMT.’ I gave him a weak laugh to show willing but it just
dissolved into a very pathetic choked sob. ‘Since you’re so interested, I’m
not due for—’
‘Rule twenty-four in the straight/gay friendship handbook, your monthly
visitor is not up for discussion.’ He gave me another giant hug while Emelie
squatted at my feet and held the bag of chips. I felt like a junk-food-craving
horse. ‘Tell us exactly what he said. What did you say?’
‘I didn’t really get much of a chance to say anything.’ My bitten lip
began to sting from the salty chips. I let it. ‘I said I wanted to talk to him
when I got back and he said he didn’t want to because he’s going to LA on
Thursday. For “a while”.’
‘Oh Rach, that’s shit,’ Matthew doubled the hug. ‘When?’
‘He just said he wouldn’t be around on Thursday,’ I mumbled. ‘He’s
going for a while.’
‘Then we have to get you home tonight,’ Em reasoned, looking up at
Matthew for approval. ‘Right? We just get her home before he leaves?’
‘It’s as good a plan as any,’ he agreed. ‘Why the fuck not? I’ll give
Jeremy a ring, see if he can change our flights.’
I sat on the bench, eating my chips and trying not to start
hyperventilating while Matthew marched up and down the footpath trying
to get through to Jeremy. There was no way he was in bed at midnight. I
wasn’t even sure if Jeremy slept at all.
‘It’ll all be all right, you know,’ Em promised, stealing a chip.
Not if you take any more of my dinner, I thought, but rather than threaten
my sort of amazing friend, I nodded and smiled. And then shoved another
handful of potato-ey goodness into my mouth before she could get back in
the bag.
We sat there for nearly an hour while Matthew made arrangements.
Normally I would have had to get involved, be writing things down,
generally sticking my nose in, but this time I was perfectly happy to sit on
my bench, eating my chips and snuggling inside my sweater. And, by
happy, I did mean emotionally dead and physically exhausted.
Tourists came and went, snapped pictures in front of us and then left,
drawn away by the siren song of the WWE gift store or, on my frequent
recommendation, a Wendy’s number seven chicken sandwich.
Just as Matthew returned, looking very pleased with himself, Niagara
Falls officially got tired of being ignored. The moment he took his seat on
the bench, fireworks exploded in the sky over the waterfalls, echoing like
thunderclaps and lighting the water with pretty patterns.
‘Oh my god,’ Matthew sat down slowly, never taking his eyes off the
skies. ‘Look at it.’
And we did look at it. For fifteen straight minutes the three of us sat in
silence and watched the display play out over Niagara Falls, deaf to the
oohing and ahhing taking place around us. Em put down the bag of chips
and reached for mine and Matthew’s hands. The waterfalls were beautiful
on their own but, for such a longtime firework whore as myself, this was
the icing on the cake. I was sure there would be purists who would say it
was gilding the lily, but they were wrong. No case to be argued. Fireworks
over Niagara Falls, a completed to-do list and my two best friends. What
more could I possibly, possibly ask for? Plus, it was the quietest the three of
us had been in each other’s company without a television being present for
as long as I could remember. This was monumental for so many reasons.
I was about to burst into tears again when I heard a very loud, very
masculine sniff at the side of me. And another less manly sob to the other
side.
‘Are you crying?’ I asked, checking both sets of tear-stained cheeks.
‘Both of you?’
‘It’s just so beautiful,’ Matthew wailed. ‘And I’m just really happy.’
‘I know,’ Em agreed tearfully. ‘I know it was your list and everything but
I feel a bit like we’ve all been on some bullshit caring-and-sharing learning
adventure.’
And I knew exactly what she meant. Without Emelie and Matthew, I’d be
a quivering wreck, hiding out in my mum’s spare bedroom. Or, worse, I’d
be back with Simon. Now we could do anything. I could do anything. I
could colour my hair, I could start running, I could get a tattoo, I could hunt
down my first crush, I could buy myself something obscenely expensive
and selfish, I could write Simon a letter that explained exactly what a knob
he was, I could bungee jump-ish, I could break the law, I could travel to a
country I’d never visited before and I could find a date to my dad’s wedding
who made me feel fantastic about myself because he was my best friend.
The point of the list wasn’t just to tick items off and forget about them, it
was to learn something new. And the most important thing I’d learned was
that I could do anything. Maybe realizing how I felt about Dan was just
another lesson. A bloody harsh one but still. I’d get over it somehow
because I could. I knew I could.
Once the fireworks and chips were finished, we hauled ourselves up off
the bench and made our way back to the car. It was almost physically
painful to leave the falls. I was still absolutely elated but simultaneously
terrified of losing the feeling. Jeremy had managed to get all three of us on
a flight out from Toronto first thing in the morning that would get us back
to London for ten p.m., twelve hours earlier than our original flight. I just
hoped that would be enough.
The drive back to the hotel was considerably more subdued than the drive
out, mostly because Emelie was asleep in the back and snoring loudly
instead of yelling ‘road trip’ and signalling for truck drivers to sound their
horns at every opportunity. I sort of missed it. Staring out of the window in
silence, I felt a strange sense of optimism creep over me. Yeah, I’d told a
boy I liked him, or at least I’d tried, and he hadn’t said it back, but at least
I’d said it and now I was doing something about it. I wasn’t sitting around
hoping everything would get better on its own because I realized now that
doing nothing was the only sure-fire way to be certain that nothing would
happen.
We arrived back at the hotel incredibly quickly, Matthew having
subscribed to my list a little and destroyed the Canadian speed limits more
or less all the way back to Toronto. A two-hour journey so easily became a
ninety-minute drive when you put your foot down. After handing the car
over to the valet, he dragged Emelie out of the back and resigned himself to
carrying her up the stairs while I took care of the bags and bags of snacks
still littering the car.
‘Ms Summers?’ The same receptionist from the night before called me
over as I attempted to sneak past her up the stairs. ‘I have a package for
you.’
‘A package?’ I was genuinely flummoxed. Unless Ethan had left me a
horse’s head, I had no idea what this could be. I was still a little surprised
that he hadn’t even replied to my Facebook message, but I couldn’t imagine
he was the dead-puppy-in-a-box-type either. I set the bag of snacks on the
counter and opened up the great big blue box with my name on it. Inside,
sitting on a bed of beautiful gold material, was a note. It was from Jenny.
Rachel, I read, Sorry I couldn’t stay and talk longer. It was fun hearing
about your list! Here’s a little something I hope will help you out at that
wedding, date or no date. Knock ’em dead. Jenny xoxo
The receptionist was almost more excited than I was. I laid the card to
one side and picked up gold fabric. Only it wasn’t just fabric, it was a
stunning pale gold dress, high boat neck, three-quarter-length sleeves and a
full tulle skirt that looked as if it would fall a little way below my knee,
fluffed out with more layers than I could possibly count. It was the most
beautiful dress I’d ever seen in my entire life. I held it up in front of me and
looked up to see the receptionist with her hand clapped over her mouth,
tears in her eyes.
‘It’s just so pretty,’ she breathed after a moment.
‘I know,’ I replied in exactly the same voice.
That just settled it. Jenny hadn’t been real after all; she was my fairy
godmother. I held the dress out in front of me and stared into the mirrored
wall of the hotel lobby. Yes Cinders, I watched as the colour of the fabric lit
up my skin and made my bright new hair shine, you shall go to the ball.
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