24 Hours

Peter had just proposed to me. At lunch. In the Harvester. With his parents and the waiters and the other customers all just looking at us, looking at me, waiting for me to say yes.

Fuck.

How did this all happen? When I was 20 I had dreams. I wanted to travel the world and help people and do something and experience life. Now I'm 24 and I've not done any of those things, and if I say yes then I know I never will.

Peter was still on one knee beside me, peering up at me through his big round goofy glasses with his eyes all full of hope and love, and a stupid smile on his face that was starting to fade with every second I didn't say anything. He's sweet and smart and sensible and he loves me. But I'm not sure it's enough. Do I really want to be with someone who thinks the height of romance is a marriage proposal next to the salad bar?

But then perhaps I am being fussy. Because people always say that it doesn't matter about the how and the where and the when. It only matters about the who and the why. And this is Peter and he loves me. He may not know me, he may not know that a public proposal is basically the worst thing I could ever conceivably imagine, but hey, he's trying.

Seven whole seconds had passed since he asked me. It's a long time to be silent and distant when you've just been proposed to and everybody in the restaurant is looking at you expectantly. How am I supposed to say no with all these people here? With Alan and Barbara sitting next to me?

"Um," I finally said, after the longest nine seconds of my life. "Yes."

The room started to applaud. Peter's ridiculous grin returned. His parents were overjoyed. The waiter brought us some free champagne. There was a ring on my finger. Somehow nobody could see that my smile was a grimace and none of this was real.

What followed was one of the most uncomfortable meals of my whole life. Babs was chattering inanely away about wedding plans while Alan nodded dutifully along, and Peter held onto my hand like it was going out of style, which actually made eating my steak quite a challenge. I just don't understand how nobody seemed to notice that I wasn't talking. I wasn't excited like everybody else was. I wasn't gazing into my fiance's eyes with a look of wonder and love. I was sipping champagne and staring down at my plate and willing time to go faster.

Eventually, I had had enough. I turned to Peter and forced another smile. "I'm going to go outside for a cigarette," I said. Partly because I needed to get away from everybody's happiness and partly because I knew his parents disapproved of my filthy habit. Sure enough, it elicited a slight tut from Babs which I took more pleasure in than I would care to admit.

"Okay, sweetie," Peter nodded. He kissed my hand. "I'll miss you."

Urgh. That one made me feel slightly sick, so I headed outside as quickly as I could manage. There were a couple of others on the beer terrace, since it was a nice day. I tucked myself away in a corner and rummaged in my bag for my phone and my cigs.

I lit up my first as I waited for Becky to answer. She took her time.

"Hello?"

"Becky," I said in almost a whisper. "It's me."

"Oh, hey Case," she said breezily, like my life wasn't a joke. "What's up?"

I took a long drag of my cigarette and exhaled slowly. I wish I could disappear into thin air like cigarette smoke. "Peter just proposed to me."

Becky was not very excited about this. "I thought you went to the Harvester with his parents," she said flatly.

"Yup."

There was a small pause. "He proposed to you in the Harvester?"

"Yep."

Another pause. "The place with the free salad bar?"

"Yes."

I think she was stifling a laugh. "Please don't tell me you said yes."

"I'm glad that you think my life is so amusing," I hissed down the phone, gaining some odd glances from the other people around me. "I couldn't say no in front of a whole restaurant full of people."

Becky cackled a bit. "Fucking hell, Case," she giggled. "You do realise if you marry him you'll be Casey Chase."

I sighed. "I'm aware of that. But it doesn't matter because I'm not going to-"

I felt a hand on my shoulder and spun around to meet the eyes of my fiance. For a moment I was terrified that he'd heard my conversation with Becky, but the glimmer in his eyes and the smile on his face reassured me otherwise.

"Um, I have to go," I said to Becky. "I'll call you later." I ended the call before she had the chance to respond and slipped my phone back into my bag.

"Who was that?" Peter asked, snaking his arm around my neck. This is a sign of affection that I should probably find sweet and comforting, but which actually made me feel slightly sick because I was coming to realise very quickly that I wasn't attracted to Peter and I didn't love him. I didn't even really like him all that much. And there was no way I was going to marry him.

"Just Becky," I replied distantly.

He felt like a heavy weight around my shoulders. I needed to tell him that I didn't want to marry him or be with him at all anymore but it's hard when you've been with somebody for three years and they love you and you loved them once, or at least you think you did. I don't know what changed. I didn't think this way yesterday or the day before, but I wasn't happy either. I can't remember if I've ever been happy with Peter but I suppose I must have been, at one point. It's just all so difficult and complicated. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to have to tell this sweet man than I have no desire to ever see him again, especially when he's looking at me with that doting smile on his face and he thinks everything is perfect. Well it isn't, Peter. It never has been and it never will be.

Maybe I've changed too much. I'm not the person I was when I met him and I want to be that person again because she was fun and ambitious and carefree. Peter is a great guy but he's not the one for me. He doesn't challenge me. He doesn't really know me. He isn't passionate about me or anything else, actually. I know that he'll live without me.

But looking up into his twinkly eyes, it was impossible to communicate this. Not here. Not now. Perhaps tonight, or tomorrow, or next week. But I had to let him believe it for a little while. I had to let him have a few hours of happiness before I ripped his heart out and did the can-can all over it. It's the least I can do.

Breaking hearts is hard. I've never had to do it before. I've always been the unlucky one. I've always been the one who gets cheated on or neglected or dumped because it's not me, it's them. And yet here I am, with a guy who I know would never cheat on me, or do anything to hurt me, or leave me to "find" himself, and I can't bring myself to be with him.

Maybe it is me. Maybe I am the problem.

"You okay, Case?"

I turned to face Peter. He looked a little concerned.

When we were kids, we were always told that one day you would meet someone who loved you, and you would love them back, and you would get married and live happily ever after. We were made to believe that love was simple and easy and maybe it is, if you strip it right back to the bare bones, but right now everything was too complicated for me to think straight.

"I'm fine," I replied anyway, forcing another smile. I took a final drag of my cigarette and threw it to the ground.

Peter smiled and took my hand. "Good," he said. He looked so happy. How am I meant to tell him that I don't want to be Casey Chase because it's a stupid name and I'm not in love with him?

I suppose I'll have to figure it out later because right now he was leading me back inside, back to the table where his parents were waiting for us with another bottle of champagne and wanted to take photos of "the happy couple". I realised at this point that I'd be hurting more people than I had originally anticipated. I'd be hurting his family and my family and our friends and who would get the cat? I realised that yes, it's selfish of me and yes, I had a lot to lose. But ultimately I realised that this had to end now.

I turned to Peter. "Peter," I said, my voice faltering and my hands shaking and my eyes watering. "I can't."