The Time of My Life. Cecelia Ahern

I snapped.

      ‘What happens when they find out? Will you get fired – again – in a similar spectacular style?’

      I ignored him and continued my spiel. ‘I don’t use the vomit word “passion” that I hear so many people use these days when they talk about their work, as if that alone will get you through the day. I do the job I’m paid to do. I’m not a workaholic.’

      ‘You don’t have the dedication.’

      ‘Are you advocating workaholicism?’

      ‘I’m just saying it takes a certain amount of consistency, you know, the ability to throw yourself wholly into something.’

      ‘What about alcoholics? Do you admire them too? How about I become one of them and you can be proud of my consistency?’

      ‘We’ve moved away from that analogy now,’ he said, irritated. ‘How about we just say straight out that you lack focus, consistency and dedication?’

      That hurt. ‘Give me an example.’ I folded my arms.

      He tapped a few keys on the keyboard, read for a while.

      ‘Someone at work suffered a heart attack so you pretended to the paramedics that you were his next of kin so that you could go in the ambulance and leave work early.’

      ‘It was a suspected heart attack and I was worried about him.’

      ‘You told the ambulance driver to let you off at the end of your block.’

      ‘The man had an anxiety attack, he was fine five minutes later.’

      ‘You’re half-assed, you waste time, you never finish anything that’s not a bottle of wine or a bar of chocolate. You change your mind all of the time. You can’t commit.’

      Okay so that finally got to me. Partly because it was just rude but mostly because he was completely correct. ‘I was in a relationship for five years, how is that a problem with commitment?’

      ‘He left you three years ago.’

      ‘So I’m taking time to be with myself. Get to know myself and all that crap.’

      ‘Do you know yourself yet?’

      ‘Of course. I like myself so much I’m planning to spend the rest of my life with me.’

      He smiled. ‘Or at least fifteen minutes more.’

      I looked at the clock. ‘We have forty-five minutes left.’

      ‘You’ll leave early. You always do.’

      I swallowed. ‘So?’

      ‘So nothing. I was just pointing it out. Would you like some examples?’ He tapped the keyboard before I had time to answer. ‘Christmas dinner in your parents’ house. You left before dessert. Didn’t even make main course the year before, a new record.’

      ‘I’d a party to go to.’

      ‘Which you left early.’

      My mouth fell open. ‘Nobody even noticed.’

      ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Again. It was noted.’

      ‘Noted by who?’

      ‘By whom,’ he corrected and pressed the down button over and over. I wanted to move to the edge of my seat but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I sat quietly looking around the office, pretending I didn’t care. And because I was pretending I didn’t care, I realised that meant I did.

      Finally he stopped tapping.

      My head whipped around to face him.

      He smiled. Then he pressed the down button again.

      ‘This is ridiculous.’

      ‘I’m sorry, am I boring you?’

      ‘Actually, yes.’

      ‘Well, now you know how I feel.’ He stopped tapping. ‘Melanie.’

      My best friend. ‘What about her?’

      ‘She was the girl who was peeved about your leaving early.’

      ‘Nobody says “peeved”.’

      ‘Quote, “I wish for once she could just stay until the end.” Unquote.’

      I was a bit annoyed about that, I’m sure I could think of plenty of times I had stayed till the end.

      ‘Her twenty-first,’ he said.

      ‘What about it?’

      ‘The last time you stayed until the end of one of her parties. In fact, they couldn’t get rid of you, could they? You slept overnight.’

      Tap, tap, tap.

      ‘With her cousin.’

      Tap.

      ‘Bobby.’

      I groaned. ‘She didn’t care about that.’

      Tap tap tap.

      ‘Quote, “How could she do this to me on my birthday? My grandparents are here, everybody knows. I’m mortified.” Unquote.’

      ‘She didn’t tell me that.’

      He just shrugged.

      ‘Why is this a big deal? Why are we talking about this?’

      ‘Because they are.’

      Tap tap tap.

      ‘“I’m sorry she left, Mum, want me to go talk to her?” That’s Riley, your brother.’

      ‘Yeah, I get it.’

      ‘“No, sweetheart, I’m sure she’s got somewhere more important to be.” Unquote. You left your family lunch yesterday thirty-two minutes ahead of time in a rather dramatic fashion.’

      ‘Yesterday was different.’

      ‘Why was it different?’

      ‘Because they betrayed me.’

      ‘How did they do that?’

      ‘By signing off on my life audit.’

      He smiled, ‘Now that’s a good analogy. But if they hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here, with me.’

      ‘Yes, and look how swell it’s all going.’

      Silence.

      ‘So let’s cut to the chase. This meeting is about me leaving dinners and parties early.’ That wasn’t so bad, I could deal with that, I would just explain why I left each event, where I was going afterwards. This whole thing could be over sooner than I thought.

      He started laughing. ‘Hell, no. I just got sidetracked.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We don’t have much time to cover anything. Shall we arrange to meet again?’

      ‘We’ve got thirty minutes left.’

      ‘No more than five going by your usual exit strategy.’

      ‘Get on with it,’ I said.

      ‘Okay.’ He leaned forward. ‘So what are you doing?’

      ‘What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m sitting here, wasting my time talking to you, is what I’m doing.’

      For the next part he didn’t need notes, he just stared straight into me. ‘You get up at seven a.m. every morning except Saturdays and Sundays when you arise at one p.m.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘You have a nutrition bar from your corner cupboard, a cappuccino from Starbucks at the end of your block, you buy