Normal People(29)

Did I do something?

No, no. Sorry. I had a weird … I feel weird. I don’t know.

She doesn’t get up. But she would, wouldn’t she, if he told her to get up. His heart is pounding now and he feels dizzy.

Do you feel sick? she says. You’ve gone kind of white.

Here, Marianne. You’re not cold, you know. You’re not like that, not at all.

She gives him a strange look, screwing her face up. Well, maybe cold was the wrong word, she says. It doesn’t really matter.

But you’re not hard to like. You know? Everyone likes you.

I didn’t explain it well. Forget about it.

He nods. He still can’t breathe normally. Well, what did you mean? he says. She’s looking at him now, and finally she does stand up. You look morbidly pale, she says. Are you feeling faint? He says no. She takes his hand and tells him it feels damp. He nods, he’s breathing hard. Quietly Marianne says: If I’ve done something to upset you, I’m really sorry. He forces a laugh and takes his hand away. No, a weird feeling came over me, he says. I don’t know what it was. I’m okay now.





Three Months Later


(JULY 2012)



Marianne is reading the back of a yoghurt pot in the supermarket. With her other hand she’s holding her phone, through which Joanna is telling an anecdote about her job. When Joanna gets into an anecdote she can really monologue at length, so Marianne isn’t worried about taking her attention off the conversation for a few seconds to read the yoghurt pot. It’s a warm day outside, she’s wearing a light blouse and skirt, and the chill of the freezer aisle raises goosebumps on her arms. She has no reason to be in the supermarket, except that she doesn’t want to be in her family home, and there aren’t many spaces in which a solitary person can be inconspicuous in Carricklea. She can’t go for a drink alone, or get a cup of coffee on Main Street. Even the supermarket will exhaust its usefulness when people notice she’s not really buying groceries, or when she sees someone she knows and has to go through the motions of conversation.

The office is half-empty so nothing really gets done, Joanna is saying. But I’m still getting paid so I don’t mind.

Because Joanna has a job now, most of their conversations take place over the phone, even though they’re both living in Dublin. Marianne’s only home for the weekend, but that’s Joanna’s only time off work. On the phone Joanna frequently describes her office, the various characters who work there, the dramas that erupt between them, and it’s as if she’s a citizen of a country Marianne has never visited, the country of paid employment. Marianne replaces the yoghurt pot in the freezer now and asks Joanna if she finds it strange, to be paid for her hours at work – to exchange, in other words, blocks of her extremely limited time on this earth for the human invention known as money.

It’s time you’ll never get back, Marianne adds. I mean, the time is real.

The money is also real.

Well, but the time is more real. Time consists of physics, money is just a social construct.

Yes, but I’m still alive at work, says Joanna. It’s still me, I’m still having experiences. You’re not working, okay, but the time is passing for you too. You’ll never get it back either.

But I can decide what I do with it.

To that I would venture that your decision-making is also a social construct.

Marianne laughs. She wanders out of the freezer aisle and towards the snacks.

I don’t buy into the morality of work, she says. Some work maybe, but you’re just moving paper around an office, you’re not contributing to the human effort.

I didn’t say anything about morality.

Marianne lifts a packet of dried fruit and examines it, but it contains raisins so she puts it back down and picks up another.

Do you think I judge you for being so idle? says Joanna.

Deep down I think you do. You judge Peggy.

Peggy has an idle mind, which is different.

Marianne clicks her tongue as if to scold Joanna for her cruelty, but not with any great investment. She’s reading the back of a dried apple packet.

I wouldn’t want you to turn into Peggy, says Joanna. I like you the way you are.

Oh, Peggy’s not that bad. I’m going to the supermarket checkout now so I’m going to hang up.

Okay. You can call tomorrow after the thing if you feel like talking.

Thanks, says Marianne. You’re a good friend. Bye.

Marianne makes her way to the self-service checkout, picking up a bottle of iced tea on the way and carrying the dried apples. When she reaches the row of self-service machines, she sees Lorraine unloading a basket of various groceries. Lorraine stops when she sees Marianne and says: Hello there! Marianne clutches the dried fruit against her ribcage and says hi.

How are you getting on? says Lorraine.

Good, thanks. And you?

Connell tells me you’re top of your class. Winning prizes and all kinds of things. Doesn’t surprise me, of course.

Marianne smiles. Her smile feels gummy and childish. She squeezes the package of dried fruit, feels it crackle under her damp grip, and scans it on the machine. The supermarket lights are chlorine-white and she’s not wearing any make-up.

Oh, she says. Nothing major.

Connell comes around the corner, of course he does. He’s carrying a six-pack of crisps, salt and vinegar flavour. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and those sweatpants with the stripes down the side. His shoulders seem bigger now. And he looks at her. He’s been in the supermarket the whole time; maybe he even saw her in the freezer aisle and walked past quickly to avoid making eye contact. Maybe he heard her talking on the phone.