The Single Girl's To-Do List (24 page)

‘It’s not your fault,’ he’d told me as we cruised along the highway listening to Bryan Adams. When in Rome. ‘You’re not going to fall hopelessly in love tomorrow. If Ethan was some bloke you’d got off with in a bar one night, it wouldn’t matter that you didn’t want to marry him within fifteen minutes of meeting him. And maybe if he lived in London you wouldn’t be putting so much pressure on it.’

‘I suppose so.’ I stared at the Facebook message I’d sent and tried not to feel like a shit.

It really wasn’t worthy of him; he was such a great guy and I had a feeling that this was what was commonly known as the short shrift, but what was I supposed to do? It wasn’t as if we were engaged. We hung out once. He kissed me once. We both knew I was leaving in forty-eight hours. And I told myself that over and over until I’d managed to almost completely bury the fact that I felt awful for leading him on. He hadn’t replied yet. I decided to believe this was because he and Sadie were hiking somewhere without a phone network and not just because he was busy making a redheaded voodoo doll. It wasn’t as though he needed to curse me: I was en route to giving myself a fatal heart attack anyway. Number nine, bungee jump.

‘Everything’s going to be fine,’ Matthew had promised. ‘Sooner or later you’re going to find someone who knocks you right off your feet. Someone who makes you feel alive. Someone who kisses you and makes your knees weak. Relationships are complicated enough as it is. It’s not worth settling for anything less.’

‘Fact,’ Em had agreed. ‘And nothing feels more amazing than meeting someone who drives you crazy. You need a little passion in your life, Ray Ray. Toe-curling, lip-bruising passion.’

At that point I wasn’t sure what was scarier. The thought of the bungee jump, settling for less, or that the only person to have made me feel that way in my entire life was Dan Fraser, seventy-two hours ago when he knocked me right off my feet and onto my back.

Since my eyes had been scarred by the hideous tourist-trap extravaganza on the way into the falls, and my mind was full of nonsense, I was completely unprepared for the ridiculous level of natural beauty that lay in front of me when we finally caught up with Emelie. With every step, the rush of water got louder and louder, the view more and more spectacular. It was absolutely breathtaking. Hopping up to sit on a low stone wall, I ignored the growing lemming tendency that told me I was awfully high up, and snapped a million photos; but not a single picture would ever be able to replicate how I felt at that second. I looked over my shoulder at the neon monstrosities behind us and then back at the falls. No wonder the shops were fighting so hard for my attention, but it wasn’t even really a competition. Unless you were wearing a bum bag and your name was Billy Bob. The falls were immense. Epic. More impressive than the wonder room at Selfridges. Almost as thrilling as the first time I saw my red hair. I had forgotten that there were things in nature that could stun me into silence, things that had been here for centuries, things other than Sky Plus. As soon as I’d regained my composure, true child of the twenty-first century that I was, I took a picture on my phone and texted it to my mum. She would have loved it. In fact, she would love it. I made a mental note to come back with her sometime soon.

‘It’s amazing,’ Matthew said after a few minutes of quiet. ‘Sure you don’t want to find a barrel and go over the top? I’ll totally accept that as an alternative to the bungee jump.’

Oh yeah. I wasn’t here to be stunned into silence by nature. I was here to lock myself in a giant hamster ball and get volleyed a billion feet into the air and back down again to my splattery death. There really hadn’t been any point in sending Ethan that email. I could have just died quietly and let him live on in blissful ignorance.

‘I’m going to pass.’ I peered over the edge into the rush of white water where the falls crashed into the river. Vapour rose up to mist my face lightly, numbing the sick feeling in my stomach. It was strange to feel something so delicate coming from something so powerful. And yet still, sitting here in front of Niagara Falls with my two best friends, in a foreign country, with red hair, a tattoo and very nearly a criminal record, all I could think about was Dan. There really was only one course of action. But there weren’t any barrels handy.

‘Right.’ Back to the falls, I jumped off the wall and dusted down my arse. ‘Where’s this bungee ball?’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’ I closed my eyes as I felt the straps of a very intimate harness being tightened around my denim cut-offs. ‘Do I really have to do this?’

Of all the items on my to-do list, this was the one that was bothering me the most. Get a tattoo, fine. Break the law? There were a million ways to do that without actually getting into trouble on a daily basis. I would rather sign something that said my head would explode if I didn’t go running every day for the next ten years than give the bungee-ball operator, who incidentally didn’t look qualified to be operating a ping-pong ball, a thumbs-up. My fear of heights had never been that debilitating because I’d made a point of never having to deal with heights. Really, when in life did you have to be up high? Simon changed all the light bulbs, I stayed on the bottom deck of the bus and I never went upstairs in Urban Outfitters. Easy. This was not something I’d ever worried about. I didn’t like heights. I didn’t like confined spaces. I didn’t like teenagers in charge of machinery that could kill me. Really, it was like my three biggest phobias had come together. Basically, the only thing that could have made this a more terrifying experience would have been if they’d strapped a tarantula to my face.

I’d made Em, Matthew and their giant ice creams stay at the bottom of the platform, supposedly to take photos, but really it was just so there would be as few witnesses to my nervous breakdown as possible. Plus, their morbid fascination with watching me go to my death had put a fever in their eyes that I did not like seeing. Matthew in particular was enjoying this altogether too much. The pinging catapult and crashing noises he’d been making for the very, very long forty minutes we’d spent waiting in the queue had not helped. By the time I was strapped in, every part of me was dripping in sweat and I was fairly certain I was hyperventilating.

‘So, I’m like, gonna set the ride and then I’ll like totally signal to you and then,’ the kid in charge of a dubious-looking control desk wiped his nose with the back of his hand and looked to the skies to like totally remind him of his lines. ‘Slingshot passengers are propelled over one hundred metres into the skies above Niagara Falls at speeds of up to one hundred and sixty kilometres per hour.’

He coughed. Spat something onto the floor and started up again.

Oh my god, I was actually going to die.

‘You should not ride the slingshot if you are pregnant, have a heart condition or, uh, there’s some other stuff,’ he shrugged. ‘You’re like, not knocked up though, right?’

‘Really not, just mentally unstable,’ I replied through a bright smile. I just had to get it over with. Like ripping off a plaster. A deadly plaster that would come loose of the mechanical arms and hurl me over the falls to a watery grave. Any second now. ‘Can we please just do this?’

‘Yeah, uh, I think that’s OK. We’ve definitely had people who have been mentally retarded before.’ He shuffled back to the controls. ‘Although I’m not supposed to say retarded when I’m working the ride.’

I really wished he would stop calling it a ride. Ride suggested it was going to be fun. You rode donkeys on the beach. You rode a rollercoaster. This was me strapping myself into a giant metal death machine, operated by the son of Mr Bean. There wasn’t even a prize for completing everything on the to-do list. Just that sweet, sweet sense of completion, I told myself. That was a prize. Unless I died and then all I would have to show for my endeavours would be a visit to the police station, cramp, and a manky, scribbled-on napkin. If I hadn’t started this nonsense, I wouldn’t be here now. If we hadn’t made that list, I wouldn’t be trying to work out why I couldn’t stop wondering where Dan was, what he was doing and with whom. It wouldn’t bother me that he hadn’t tried to get in touch with me. It wouldn’t bother me that – wait? Was that the signal? I tried to lean forward against the harness to get a better look at Bean Jr, but no, he was too busy hunched over the controls with half a taco hanging out of his mouth.

Grabbing onto the harness, I braced myself and prepared for my imminent demise. I imagined if Elvis had been given the choice between checking out on the shitter or in front of one of the natural wonders of the world, he, well, he probably would have chosen the shitter. Besides, there was a weight limit on this thing. But there were worse ways to go than with an amazing view of Niagara Falls; it was sort of wonderful. I could see both waterfalls from here: rushing white water, vibrant green trees, electric blue sky. Such pretty colours. Such a shame that, as soon as I turned around, all I could see was the screaming neon Bowlerama sign. I supposed it had its own charm, just … not really. Canada was underneath my feet, or at least underneath the capsule and, right there, just across the water, was America. To be honest, I was more shocked that the tack-fest was on the Canadian side than that it existed. The US side of the falls seemed incredibly dignified by comparison and I was at least glad I’d got to see something so beautiful before I died. Because I was utterly convinced I was about to die.

I heard the click before I felt anything. Half a heartbeat later I was being thrown into the sky, the waterfall millions of miles below me. Or at least one hundred metres away. It was bizarre; I couldn’t feel anything, physical or otherwise. All I knew was that my stomach and Niagara Falls was somewhere below me and, any second now, this glorious soaring sensation was going to be replaced with a terrifying plummet to my untimely death. But now. And to think, under any other circumstances, I loved being right.

‘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 hockey-playing 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? Church-type 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.’