Page 2 of Beautiful Ugly
I think this might be the best day of my life, and I wanted to share it withher.
Instead, it’s just me and the dog, and he’s already gone back to sleep.
I do my best to properly thank all the people who made this dream come true: my amazing agent, my wonderful editor, brilliant publicist, the fantastic sales and marketing teams. Then the call I’ve waited forever for ends, and suddenly everything is quiet. Too quiet. I am alone again. I pour myself a little glass of whiskey from one of the good bottles, then sit in silence, letting the news sink in. I want to treasure this special moment and hold on to it for as long as I can. When I have composed myself, I call my wife. I want to surprise her. I can picture Abby’s mobile attached to the dashboard of her car, displaying her journey on a moving map just like always. The phone barely rings before she answers.
“Well?” she asks, her voice oozing expectation. I wish I could see her face.
“You are speaking to the author of aNew York Timesbestseller.”
She screams. “Oh my god! I knew it. I’m so proud of you!” I can hear genuine emotion in her voice and think my wife, who never cries, might be crying. “I love you,” she says. I can’t remember when we last said that we loved each other. We used to say itevery day. I like the sound of her words and how they make me feel. Like when you hear an old song you haven’t heard for years on the radio, one you used to love.
“I’m almost home,” she says, interrupting my mess of nostalgic thoughts. “Take the champagne out and—”
I hear the sound of screeching brakes, then silence.
“What’s happened?” I ask. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
The silence continues, but then I hear her voice again. “I’m fine, but... there’s a woman lying in the road.”
“What? Did you hit her?”
“No! Of course not. She was already there, that’s why I stopped,” Abby says.
“Where are you now?”
“I’m on the cliff road. I’m going to get out and see if—”
“No!” I shout.
“What do you mean,no? I can’t leave her lying in the lane, she might be hurt.”
“Then call the police. You’re almost home. Do not get out of the car.”
“If you’re worried about the fish-and-chips getting cold—”
“I’m worried aboutyou.”
She sighs and I hear the faintclickas she releases her seat belt. “I think you’ve read too many Stephen King books—”
I think doing the right thing isn’t always the right thing to do.
“Pleasedon’tget out of the car,” I say.
“What if it were me in the road? Wouldn’t you want someone to stop and help?”
“Wait, don’t hang up!”
“Fine, if it makes you feel better.” It has never been possible to change my wife’s mind about anything. The more you urge her not to do something, the more determined she is to do it. Abby opens the car door. “I love you,” she says again. By the time Ithink to say it back it’s too late. She must have left her phone attached to the dashboard because all I can hear is the sound of her footsteps as she walks away.
One minute goes by, then another.
I can still hear the indicator and the windscreen wipers.
Five minutes later the call is still connected, but I can’t hear Abby.
Have you ever known something terrible was about to happen before it did?
Or felt an overwhelming, inexplicable fear that someone you loved was in danger?