Lines We Forget (18 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Anna

August 15
th
2009

Opening up a bottle of wine early for a sip or three of encouragement before she plates up, Anna stops to admire how Charlie’s fingers delicately pluck away at the guitar as he waits on the sofa. His husky, wise-beyond-its-years voice echoes through the kitchen and it makes her chest tight at the thought of what she’s got to do.

Like a mantra, she tells herself over and over that there’s no need to feel nervous because he’d understand. He always does. She thinks back to the weekend before, when she realised that she’s been wholly unfair to him with her attitude and behaviour.

An epiphany of sorts happened as she watched the exchange of Jaz and Tom’s wedding vows—Anna made a vow with herself to finally pluck up the courage to tell Charlie just why she’s been so down, quiet, and secretive with all her true thoughts and feelings. Like how she couldn’t bear to remain in London, jobless, and how home feels like the right place to take all her worries and woes.

She doesn’t want to lose him or continue to push him away. His arms round her waist as they danced to terribly cliché wedding music cemented that fact and she vowed to find a way for them to remain together whilst she sorted her situation out.

It wasn’t the easiest decision to make, but Anna feels confident that with a lot of patience and time, they’ll get back to best and make it work between the miles and distance.

***

As Charlie tucks into the meal she’s made, she swallows back the urge to brush away the strand of hair that falls to his eyes. It reminds her of all that she’s about to leave behind—the simple act of sitting to enjoy a meal with him is something she finds she’ll miss more than anticipated. Anna makes small talk to keep her mantra flowing and not get too caught up in missing a person she can still see and touch and feel.

“Is it okay?” she asks, before making a start on her own.

Charlie glances up and nods. “It’s great.”

“I brought all the ingredients with my winnings from Jaz’s wedding scratch cards. That’s why we’ve got dessert tonight too.” She pushes her knees up close to his under the table.

Taking another bite, he asks if Jaz is due back from her honeymoon soon and she knows it’ll lead to the inevitable question of when she needs to move out.

“She’s back in a few days.”

“Has she hassled you for rent or did helping to set up the venue keep her happy for another week?” Charlie enquires, his eyes meeting hers for a beat too long, as if he can tell there’s more to the story than she’s willing to tell.

“She was grateful for the help but still wants the rent. There are boxes of her stuff already packed up so she can move into Tom’s place,” she replies quietly. “I guess that’s what I need to talk to you about.”

Stopping to eat, he rests his fork and elbow down. She’s got his undivided attention and this causes her to sweat, bring all her nerves bubbling up to the surface.

“Actually, maybe we should talk about it after dinner. Yes, let’s wait, otherwise dinner’s going to get cold.”

“It’s fine. I’m halfway finished, what’s up?”

Anna feels the tightness in her chest constrict the ability to breathe, so she takes a long, measured pause before speaking up. “Are you sure? It really can wait.”

“Honestly, carry on. Shoot—what do you need to talk about?”

“Right, well. Hmmm.”

“Anna, your hands are shaking.” The concern in Charlie’s voice ramps up the surge of nervous energy that rips through her veins. Leaves her feeling dizzy.

“Okay…so as you know, I’ve been struggling to make rent, get a job.”

“Yeah.”

“And Jaz is moving out to live with her new husband, and the landlord wants to up the rent, maybe put the place back on the market.”

Charlie’s eyes strain as he leans in. “And didn’t you say you were going to ask about moving in with one of Daisy’s friends?”

“That wasn’t really ever a real option, babe. I still have no money to pay rent elsewhere. Not right now. Effectively, in three weeks’ time I’ll be homeless. Well, I still have a home, just not here.”

“Anna, you can’t be—”

“I’m moving back home. I’m sorry.”

He slowly pushes round the leftovers on his plate, head so low that when he asks “Why?” she has to ask him to speak up.

“I said why? Why do you have to run back home? Why can’t you find somewhere else to stay? Here, with me?”

“It’s not that simple. No money, no job, nada. I don’t have a ton of options falling at my feet, so forgive me for trying to be sensible about what to do.”

“So that’s it then? That’s your foolproof solution? To give up and run away?”

Anna’s never seen him look so hurt, angry, sad at all once. “I’m not running away, Charlie—it’s called being responsible. I’m only trying to make the best out of a bad situation. Not sure if you were listening when I said I have no money. I can’t just magic myself rich and stay here forever, not in the current situation.”

Quiet as a mouse, he replies, “But you could move in with me. That’s a better option.”

It’s no surprise to hear him utter the words “move in” and she’s built herself up for it. Run through the possibility of it a hundred times, before almost always deciding it to be a step in the wrong direction. She’s spoken with Daisy and her mum about what to say should he ask, and the replies she received were always the same—it’s too much, too soon. She doesn’t want to burden him with her predicament. Besides, the strong independent streak that has run through her since she scored her first job—a paper round at age thirteen—held her back from agreeing to it.

Anna wants to show she is a capable, strong woman who doesn’t need handouts from anyone. The thought of moving in with him only makes sense further down the line. When she’ll be happy, excited to take the next step, not because she has no other choice. Forced to shack up in a flat that is barely big enough for him, let alone her too.

“That just won’t work, Charlie, not right now.” Even as she’s saying the words, she can predict his response.

“But you can stay at mine, it makes perfect sense.”

“There’s barely enough room for you, I have all my stuff and I like my space. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Pushing his chair back, he places his head in his hands and she wonders if she’s been naïve to believe there’d be a good outcome to her shock confession.

“You’re not a burden. Look, I get it, Anna—you like being independent, self-sufficient, don’t take no handouts from anyone, but there’s got to be a point where you swallow your pride and accept that people care and only want to help.”

“Tell me I’m not a burden when I’ve taken up most of your bed and room with all my junk!” Anna’s attempt at humour falls flat, as does the wide smile she’s projecting his way. None of it steers his hands away from his face, as if he’s afraid to look up, open his eyes. “It’ll only be temporary, I’ll come back up to see you, and you can get the train down.”

“Anna—”

“And you can even come spend Christmas with me and my family this year.”

“Doesn’t sound very temporary if you’re already planning that far ahead.” There’s no hint of enthusiasm at such a prospect in his tone. “Sounds like you’ve been planning this for a long while.”

Moving her plate away so she can conquer the gap between them and reach for his hand, she notices he’s now staring up at the wall behind her. As if she’s not even there in front of him, too lost in thought to register her touch.

“It might only be for a couple of months, or at the very most till the New Year. Mum thinks she can get me some part-time receptionist work at the local veterinary practice and there’s talk of a few shifts at the pub down the road from mine. It’s easy cash so I can get out of my overdraft, start saving again,” Anna says.

“Thought part-time work was beneath you.” His words are true but unhelpful.

“Yeah, well that was before I ran out of money and had to eat cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It might be shit, who knows! But it’s something, isn’t it? It means I can come see you, pay for train tickets, and we can start to go out again, enjoy being together instead of fighting over who can’t afford to pay for what.”

“Do we need money to spend time together now?”

The heat creeps up to her cheeks and she feels hurt that he’d twist her good intentions in such a way.

But he doesn’t give up easily. “It’s the way it sounds. I understand it’s been rough, that it’s not quite worked out or been easy for you, but I thought you’d at least still want be here, with me.”

“I do want to still be with you.” It’s the truth.

“So stay.”

“I can’t. Not here. But I still want us to be together.”

“But I love you.”

Anna sighs. “Love alone isn’t enough to feed people, Charlie.” Again it’s the truth, however cruel it sounds.

“It’s just not enough for you.” The desperation and resentment in his words leave a bad taste in her mouth, which lingers in a tense silence until she finds the strength to lift it.

“I love you too. I do. Nothing changes that. Not a hundred or thousand miles. I’ll call every day, we can write and I’ll bug the shit out of you to the point where it’ll be like I’m here anyways.” She smiles, tracing the lines in his palm. “I’m not breaking up with you, in case you’re wondering.”

“Well that’s something, I guess.”

“You won’t be getting rid of me that easily.” She winks, then regrets it, unsure if he’s frowning not only because he’s run out of emotions but also because he doesn’t appreciate her expression.

“There’s nothing I can say that will change your mind, is there?” he asks, although it doesn’t sound like a question, more akin to a dawning realisation that nothing can. Not even him.

Anna shakes her head slowly, holds his hand and squeezes it. “Right now? No, but I promise I’ll do everything I can to make this easy for the both of us. Even if I have to come back every weekend, I will, if it’ll make it better.”

“You think you’ll finally be happy? There I mean, back home?”

“Not sure, but worth a try, right?”

“When are you planning on going?”

Her head swims with all the questioning; it feels like she hasn’t caught a breath in minutes. “Two weeks, maybe three? I have to pack everything up and send it back home.”

“Okay.” He finally shifts his gaze to meet hers and he offers a weak smile.

“It will be, Charlie, I promise. You have to trust me.”

Fiddling with his shirt cuffs, he nods and says, “I do.”

“And I trust you too.”

Carefully he snakes his palm away and rubs the crook of his neck, rocks back on the hind legs of his chair. Anna’s aware he’s not at all reassured, because he’s shaking his head as if he’s having a debate with himself about what he really wants to say.

Which he does, finally, after another round of deafening silence that makes her gut ache and head feel sore.

“You know, I really thought things were just starting to get a little better. Not necessarily with jobs, work, or money but with us. That your mood had begun to brighten because you realised that you didn’t need a job or money or things to make you happy. I thought I’d finally got back the real Anna—the one that’s always full of energy, who can look on the bright side and see that life’s not so bad when you have someone to share it with, who can help you weather the rainy days. Someone like me who is just crazy about you,” Charlie says, downbeat. In defeat, tears forms like little wells in his eyes. “Turns out you’re happy now, probably have been for the past two weeks, because you know you’re leaving.”

From a man of not so many words, hearing and witnessing Charlie lay all his true feelings so utterly bare is quite the shock, and Anna has to catch a breath, re-group her senses and act strong.

When he gets up from the table, she says his name but he ignores it, excuses himself and leaves his food. She realises that the horrible, squirming pain she’s feeling all over is because he really is crying now, just without a sound.

She’s never seen him like that before, not least because he isn’t one to turn on the waterworks. She hates how he’s rubbing away at his face, how red his eyes are.

“I just need a minute alone,” Charlie chokes, as if it physically pains him to say anything. She watches him head towards the patio doors, out into the evening’s light summer rain. He shuts the door and fades into a dark silhouette, one arm out towards the brick wall, with his back facing way.

And Anna waits, for what feels like hours but is really only a handful of minutes, for him to come back. Waiting, she thinks that she’s been awful, dropping such a bombshell over a quiet, romantic dinner. Shattering all his hopes, tearing apart everything he’s known. Maybe he has every right to not understand or agree with her choice. If the shoe were on the other foot, then she too would be out in the rain, pissed off, angry, sad, wracked with worry and uncertainty about what the future holds for them.