Lines We Forget (19 page)

Returning through the door, his hair soaking wet, shirt clinging to his chest, Charlie stands by the sofa and she instinctively goes to him. Grabbing a blanket to softly dry away the rain that falls from the tip of his nose.

He allows her to and sighs. “I didn’t realise it was raining quite so much outside. Probably should’ve picked somewhere drier to clear my head.”

Anna appreciates he’s trying to be funny, sweet, and so she continues to softly rub his blond locks with care until he speaks up again to ask the question she’s been dreading.

The one question she doesn’t have a clear-cut answer for.

“So, what do we do now then? Until you go?”

She shrugs, tries to lighten the mood to mask the fact she’s not sure how anything’s going to go, because it’s going to be hard, and painful. “Eat some dessert…there’s cheesecake with your name on it over by the fridge.”

It’s the best she can do when Charlie’s peering down at her like he hopes she’ll soon come around, maybe reconsider.

Anna just doesn’t have the heart to tell him that stubborn mules like her don’t budge so easily.

Chapter Seventeen

Charlie

September 4
th
2009

“Say bon voyage or something like that instead,” Anna insists, as the thought of goodbye sticks in Charlie’s throat. Not least because it’s the one word she’d earnestly requested be left unsaid when waving her off at the train station once all her belongings were packed up and the day arrived for her to leave the city and him behind.

Just like all the clothes she’d thrown away or the stacks of magazines and books she discarded. He knows that she was only clearing space, ridding her new path of unnecessary junk and distraction, but it got him wondering if one day, Anna might do the same to him.

Still, he grants her wishes of not uttering any goodbyes, and instead leaves it to create an unspoken wedge deep in his heart and mind, unseen and unheard, so she can leave and maintain the casual façade that her trip back is to be nothing more than just a normal brief stint away.

Anna acts like that a lot even though leaving happens to involve a whole lot of distance—one hundred and fifty-four miles to be exact, all of which Charlie thinks she needs to be more aware of, instead of pretending like five hours’ worth of separation is akin to the relative ease of taking the Tube or hopping on a bus.

He’s come realise that she is very skilled at saying adieu without actually having to do so. A true master at deflecting away the obvious problems, like living separate lives dictated by distance. She is so casual about it all that it only makes him feel even more anxious. It also means that he has to search for other ways to give her a warm send off without showing that he is at an utter loss, not sure how to act or feel about it.

Charlie doesn’t want to piss her off, let her leave on a sour note, so he settles for a gentle kiss on the forehead and a much too formal and brisk cheerio before he stands back to watch her train roll down the tracks and out of his world.

Anna had told him when packing that she’ll leave some of her stuff with him for when she came back to stay. He knows it was her skewed way of reassurance that she’ll return soon, but the tiny gesture feels empty, not least because he knows all too well that a worn-out toothbrush and pair of tatty winter boots can easily be replaced. So easily forgotten about.

***

When Charlie returns to his pokey flat, nothing can reassure him that she won’t forget about him too—somewhere down the line. How it would be easier to say au revoir with the safety of distance between them.

He can’t help but reminisce about all the first times, back when they’d just started. All the flirtatious and playful moments spent trying to figure each other out. Maybe he should have done it all differently, because maybe then she might have stayed. Charlie curses himself for not sorting out his life before he met her, for failing to grasp adulthood and ultimately paying the price for being too complacent.

When staring at his guitar fails lift the melancholy mood that hangs heavy over him like a wet blanket, and when his fingers don’t seem to work right without Anna there to fill the spaces between, he decides to take a walk, clear his mind.

Holding his crummy old phone tight as he heads for the riverbank, he realises that his most valued possession now isn’t the guitar slung over his shoulder but something held together by bits of plastic, lose screws that could be torn apart or broken easily—his only hope of keeping a part of her close, for when she calls, as promised, every day.

With the wind picking up to chill the late summer’s evening, Charlie settles on the concrete embankment, like he did so many, many months before to kiss Anna for the first time. He watches the sky the way he would do if he were busking and treats it as an audience so bitter loneliness doesn’t sink in too soon.

And for all London’s faults, for all the reasons it drove her away, it can still be beautiful. Especially as the sun sets, lighting up the river like it were on fire.

Charlie keeps on wishing she were by his side, annoyance creeping in with every passing minute, consuming any optimism left.

If only her heart didn’t belong to some generic seaside town a million miles away, he thinks. Almost sends a message to beg her to come back, but he doesn’t get very far. All he wants is a way to express that he’s got no idea what to do now, or how to occupy his thoughts, when she’s the only thing burning in his mind.

And as he watches the sunset, he wonders if she’s fallen asleep on the train yet or if she can’t because she’s too busy thinking of him too.

He imagines Anna resting her head against the window, watching the landscape roll by, snacking on chocolate buttons and crisps as she often does. Charlie worries that she might not have charged her phone and that she might not be able to call him once she arrives to let him know she made it.

He wonders if she still thinks it’s the right choice to have left. If her heart feels full again to be close to the coast, and if her head finally feels at peace, cleared by the salt air.

It isn’t typically in his nature to entertain such bitter thoughts but he’s out of luck and out of reasons to feel fine about being alone. Again. Not quite sure how Anna has managed to escape being stuck in a rut only for him to fall back into one—destined to dwell in it for any number of days, weeks, or months until she decides if it’s just a temporary fix like she’d promised.

Really though, if there were one thing Charlie has come to learn about Anna, it’s that she doesn’t like to be proven wrong. It seems pretty obvious even to a lovesick fool that she will make it last as long as she can, even if it doesn’t feel right.

When a young couple walk by hand in hand to stand by the river and marvel at the sky’s colourful show, he feels the bitterness swell with frustration. He wants to warn them that being on the cusp of love comes with a whole mess of horrible consequences. How all good things have to come to an end, even if it feels like love could keep them alive and well.

And as he fumbles away at the copper strings on his guitar and tries to sing, he feels bereft. Because with every minute that passes, he misses her more than he ever imagined possible.

Misses her smile as flashes of their past play back in his memory. Misses the loss of her warmth when fantasies of their future take aim and stab in his gut.

The absence of Anna consumes every bar and every rhyme that he sings out. Using the simple but cutting words to act as a cautionary serenade to all the lovers that pass by, to let them know.

That love can be torn apart just as easily as it is made.

Chapter Eighteen

Anna

November 22
nd
2009

Tucking a leg in under the duvet cover, Anna sighs and continues to listen as Charlie’s heart beats fast, rising and falling deep in his chest.

She wonders if she’ll ever tire of the post-sex, sweaty delirium that comes from spending weeks apart, if all their overdue under-the-sheet reunions will continue to be just as satisfying. If the appeal of them will ever start to wear thin.

Anna’s sleepy eyes drift to the four corners of his bedroom, ears taking in the soft sounds of his favourite folk artist that’s been the soundtrack to their afternoon delight. She lingers on his flannel shirts hung up on the wooden hook to the back of his door, and his guitar propped up against the window.

A lump forms in her throat at the thought of having to soon pack her travel bag and slip on a thick jumper. Leave the warmth and familiar comfort of his arms to trudge back to the station.

The routine of leaving behind one home for another hadn’t gotten any easier despite her initial optimism that the first couple of months would settle any doubt about long distances. Squash the myths she’d heard, read, and been warned about.

Anna’s knows she’ll get teary eyed when Charlie kisses her forehead and whispers goodbye for now. That he’ll wait until she’s sat on the train to leave a voicemail to tell her he misses her already, and how the weekend went by too fast—how he’s sorry too for the petty argument the night before.

He’ll wish it had never happened and will promise that next time it’ll all be sunshine and rainbows, instead of shouting matches about what to do or where to go. That he’ll do better to make the most out of the forty-eight hours together.

The train will roll down the tracks and she’ll regret calling him an arsehole and the hour-long sulk in the bathroom when the decision of where to get dinner and which pub to visit got much too heated. She’ll stew too on the undeniable fact that she’s been up to see him more times than he can afford to come and see her. That he always uses the same old excuse about never having enough money or the patience to endure five hours in a musty old train carriage.

All of it is just fuel for an argument brewing for another time—possibly building for a late night mid-week phone call when silence seeps into the gaps once filled with excitement to hear each other’s voice.

There is no denying that Charlie still takes her breath away, but he also has a knack of firing up parts of her that are prone to act irrational and temperamental. Time apart has made them twist and distort, flare up, and Anna doesn’t quite know how to deal with the issues that long distance brings to simmer up on the surface.

Each passing week feels like a never-ending battle between remaining cool and calm, patient and positive, and falling into deep pools of doubt, jealously, and fear to wonder about just what Charlie does with all his free time when she isn’t there.

She tries hard to keep such feelings at arm’s length but they never stay away for long, ready each time to hitch a ride with her from the coast back up to the Big Smoke to wreak havoc with the sparse moments they get to spend together again.

The only time negative thoughts keep away are when they can’t wait to tear off their clothes and find common ground in the suppressed feelings and frustration at not being able to connect as much as before. It’s how Sunday evenings are spent, counting down the hours and minutes until they have to untangle from heated sheets and each other.

As she wonders if she’s got enough energy to prise herself away from his embrace, and as she stirs, Charlie strokes her hair and says, “Stay another day, just till Monday afternoon.”

“You know I wish I could, but—” He cuts her off by planting small kisses on her cheek.

“We can stay in bed or go feed the swans in the park. Maybe go to some museums. You do keep saying you want us to do more with the time we have together, thought you might just want to stay here with me for a bit longer.”

Anna sighs. “I’d love that, really I would, but you know I’ve got work tomorrow. It’s also one of the veterinary nurse’s birthdays and I’ve promised her I’ll go out for drinks to celebrate.”

“Okay.” Charlie’s body stiffens and he turns his head away. “Didn’t you go out last week for drinks?”

“That wasn’t for her birthday.”

“You seem to go out for a lot of drinks these days,” he replies, and she knows that he’s probably thinking about the unflattering photos of her being slightly tipsy that Kelly, one of the other nurses, had taken. Charlie didn’t seem happy about finding them on her Facebook page—not least because it was all new and daunting to him. She now regrets setting up a profile for him so they could keep in touch when phone calls couldn’t be made because all it has done was breed paranoia. Not that he uses it much, or sends many messages.

He isn’t one for modern technology, doesn’t understand the point of it. Unfortunately the one time he did decide to log on just had to coincide with the blurry photo of her and an old male school friend who’d sidled up to her in the pub booth without direct permission, which had just been the catalyst for yet another drawn out argument about trust.

“It’s just drinks. I haven’t been there two months yet and I want to make a good impression, keep friendly,” Anna says. “I’m saving up as much money as I can so I can come back here too. So we can be together properly.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it because I am. Charlie, I really am trying my best, okay? Going for drinks with work colleagues shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“If you say so. Just sounds like it’s more important to you,” he mumbles back.

“Please don’t ruin the last couple of hours left. I said I wish I could stay an extra day, but honestly I can’t. Don’t make me feel shittier about that.”

Charlie shrugs again, continues to look away. “Fine. Maybe some other time, then.”

“We’ll arrange something soon. I’ll take time off before Christmas and we can do it all. Whatever you want.”

“You said that last time.”

Anna’s not sure why he’s acting like she’s purposefully being difficult. Especially when the reality of it is that she is working damn hard so she can keep coming back to visit him. She hates how he acts as if she isn’t bothered about being apart, because she really is. She misses him more than he’ll ever realise.

She has also been trying to masterfully juggle life back home, new friendships and old friendships like Daisy’s that she has of late been so poorly neglectful of. Not that Charlie seems to care at all or to try and even begin to understand.

“Fine.” He lifts his legs up and twists to sit on the side of the bed. She watches as he stands and walks towards the door, still naked, hair ruffled and wild. “Would just be nice if I actually believed you.”

“You’re making this into something it doesn’t need to be.”

“It’s fine.”

She winces, clenches her fists below the covers. “Sure, really feels like it.”

“Just promise me I won’t be subjected to more photos of you drunk next to some strange guy tomorrow.” It’s a painful dig but she doesn’t take the bait. She knows he’s spoiling for her to say something in retaliation, so she changes the subject.

“We’ve still got an hour or two left, we can stay in bed for a bit longer,” she suggests when he turns the door handle, a cold chill escaping into the room. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Does it matter?”

“It’s just a question.” Anna breathes out, breathes in again to stay calm and not get into a back and forth verbal tennis match. “You seem quite eager to leave, that’s all.”

“So do you,” he says, sounding childish.

“Charlie, please. Let’s not do this again.”

“I’m not. I’m going to put the kettle on and take a shower.” The way he mumbles, low and quiet, tells her that he’s really not happy. At all.

Pulling the white covers up close to her lips, she growls into the soft fabric so he won’t hear and she thinks about how it’s the type of stupid, silly argument that will last more than just a weekend. How it’ll make the following nights alone harder to get through, and all the apologies, grovelling that will surely follow. She prays he’ll let it slide, maybe calm down once he’s out the room.

But the hum of the hot water kicking in as Charlie slams the glass shower door, and his own frustrated cries echoing back, shut down all of Anna’s naïve hopes that maybe, just maybe, he might.