Page 6 of A Merry Irish Christmas
Once the door shut behind her, she really let rip. She flopped onto the sofa and cried, loud, heaving sobs of anger, disappointment and shock as she tried to wrap her head around what had just happened. Her whole life had changed in a matter of minutes. The gift hamper she’d bought for Greg’s parents mere hours ago stood in the corner beside her little Christmas tree, taunting her. She couldn’t believe that just this morning she’d been shopping for gifts for his family and planning what to pack for their trip to Maine.
What was she going to do now? The worst thing in all this was that she’d given up going home to Dingle for him, and it would be too late to do anything about that now. All the economy flights would be sold out and anything that was available this late in the day would be astronomically expensive. She’d just have to spend Christmas on her own in New York.
How could she have been so stupid? What an idiot! She’d always known that Greg wasn’t over Juanita and she’d only have to crook her finger for him to go running back to her with open arms. How had she managed to turn a blind eye to that? But then she’d never expected Juanita to abandon her fiancé practically on the eve of their wedding and turn up at Greg’s door to declare her undying love for him. She had to concede, that would be pretty hard to resist. It was the sort of thing that happened all the time in movies, but she’d never heard of anyone experiencing anything like it in real life.
She saw now with sickening clarity that she’d never been a main character in Greg’s story. Juanita was the one who’d get the impassioned speeches and grand gestures, the one the audience would be rooting for, because this was Greg and Juanita’s movie,and Mary was just playing a supporting role. She was the one who got dumped for grand-gesture girl – the one who slinked away quietly, whose name the audience wouldn’t even remember.
Eventually, when she’d worn herself out and was too exhausted to cry any more, she picked herself up off the sofa and got ready for bed. She was grateful at least that tomorrow was Sunday, so she wouldn’t have to go into the office looking like the ghost of the grim reaper and face a barrage of questions from her colleagues. She could stay in bed and feel sorry for herself, and then decide what to do to cheer herself up and make Christmas alone in New York fun. She’d call her sisters and Gina and have a cathartic rant about what a shitbag Greg had turned out to be. But right now she didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep.
3
Mary woke the next morning to a flurry of missed calls and text messages from Greg, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at them. Gingerly testing her feelings, she found last night’s rage seemed to have abated. Now she just felt hollow, numb. Thank goodness she didn’t have to go to work and put a brave face on things, because she wasn’t sure she could summon the energy to get out of bed.
But she wasn’t cut out for wallowing and it wasn’t long before she became restless and decided to get up. Besides, she was hungry. Her bed was by the window and she drew back the curtain and peeked up between the buildings to a cloudy grey sky, then pulled on a cardigan and a pair of thick socks and padded the few steps to her little kitchen. When she’d made herself a breakfast of toasted sesame bagel and scrambled egg, she took it back to the sofa with a big mug of tea. She’d never been more grateful for her little apartment. Realtors would call it cosy, cute and convenient – euphemisms for tiny and cramped, and the fact that you could grab a snack from the fridge while sitting on the toilet. But she loved her cubbyhole, and today it feltlike a hug – warm and snug and comforting. The living area doubled as the bedroom and tripled as the study, courtesy of a shelf that served as a computer desk, and the lack of storage space meant she had to be scrupulously tidy and careful to keep her belongings to a minimum. But it was all hers and the location really was unbeatable.
Today, though, she longed to be in Dingle, eating her breakfast in her parents’ house at the long table overlooking the sea. She could practically smell the salty air, feel the ozone filling her lungs. She picked up her phone and checked the time. It would be afternoon in Ireland. She knew she needed to tell her family what had happened, but while part of her wanted their sympathy and the kind of unconditional support she knew she could depend on from them, another part of her dreaded how upset they’d be for her – especially knowing she’d be spending Christmas on her own in New York. She toyed with her phone, trying to decide who to call or text first. It wasn’t like her to be so indecisive, but after the shock of last night, her brain didn’t seem to be functioning properly.
Eventually, she decided to take the easy way out and put a message in the family WhatsApp saying she and Greg had broken up. Then she tossed the phone aside and headed for the shower before it started lighting up with responses.
Sure enough, when she was showered and dressed, she picked up her phone again to find a litany of missed calls and messages from her family. She read through the texts from her siblings and parents, all expressing their shock, outrage and concern, with a lot of swearing and angry emojis directed at Greg. She smiled as she thumbed through the chat, buoyed up by their solidarity. Once she started responding, the group chat moved so fast she could barely keep up, all of them ‘talking’ over each other as she answered their questions about what hadhappened and how she was feeling and explained that she wouldn’t be able to make it home for Christmas at such short notice. Eventually, her mother ordered everyone off the phone so she could call Mary.
Mary found she wasn’t as upset as she’d have expected to be about Greg. She’d been blindsided, of course, but maybe somewhere deep down she’d envisaged something like this happening, so she was prepared. She’d always felt that Greg wasn’t all in with her. The way he’d fallen to pieces when Juanita told him she was getting married had made that crystal clear. How could she have ignored such a glaring red flag? However, she was devastated to be missing Christmas with her family for his sake, and the sound of her mother’s sympathetic voice on the phone brought tears to her eyes.
‘I wish I was there to give you a hug,’ Sheena said.
‘Me too.’
‘And there’s no chance you’ll get home?’
‘No, not at this stage. It’s too late.’ Mary swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. ‘That’s the worst part of all this.’
‘I can’t believe Greg did that to you! He seemed like such a nice man.’
Her parents had met Greg on one of their visits to New York. They’d all gone out to dinner and she’d been delighted by how well they’d got on together. Greg had been charming and thoughtful and had told her afterwards how much he’d liked Sheena and Liam.
She sighed. ‘Maybe he is – a nice man who’s in love with someone else.’
‘So what’ll you do? Could you go to a friend’s? Do you know anyone else who’s staying in the city? What about Gina?’
‘No, she’s going back to Chicago. I have an open invitation to go with her. But honestly, I’d rather stay here by myself. It’d be astrain being with people I don’t know, and I’m not in the mood to put in the effort.’
‘I hate to think of you there all by yourself at Christmas.’
‘I know. But it’ll be fine.’ She looked to the window and the steely grey clouds gathering outside. ‘The weather forecast on my phone says there’s a sixty per cent chance of snow. Maybe it’ll be a white Christmas here. It’ll be nice – like in a movie. I’ve never been in New York at Christmas. There are lots of fun things I can do.’
‘On your own, though,’ Sheena said uncertainly.
‘Honestly, Mum, it’s fine. I’m fine.’
There was a pause. ‘You know what, you’re right,’ her mother said then, sounding altogether more cheerful. Mary was surprised by the abrupt change of tone. ‘It’s a pity you can’t get home, but I know you’ll make the best of things. We bounce back, don’t we? I’m sure you’ll have a great time.’
Mary frowned. It wasn’t like her mother to accept defeat so readily. She’d half expected her to mount some sort of rescue mission to get Mary home for Christmas. But she supposed even Sheena McBride had to accept sometimes that she had her limitations and all she could do was try to make Mary feel better about her circumstances, since there was nothing she could do about them.
‘Right, I have to go, pet.’ Sheena suddenly sounded distracted. ‘There’s… someone at the door. But we’ll talk again soon.’
‘Okay. Bye, Mum.’
When they’d ended the call, Mary got a notepad and pen, curled up on the sofa and began planning an indulgent Christmas alone in New York. She’d stock up on all her favourite foods and treats,binge-watch romcoms, go for walks in Central Park… It would be fun. Her family’s presents to her had arrived days ago and were sitting under the tree, ready for her to open on Christmas morning. She’d lay waste to all the goodies in that hamper she’d spent so much time picking out for Greg’s parents too.
