I can’t forget the way you smell and taste. I can’t forget the sounds you made when you came.
Please write me. Please tell me we haven’t screwed this up … that I haven’t screwed this up.
I’m still so mad. I’m still so hurt. I just wanted to be enough for you, but this is the reality of my life and it’s shite.
I love you so much.
I can’t tell you like this.
* * *
DRAFT UNSENT
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: where are you?
Charlie,
I’m worried about you. I’m mad at you, and I’m embarrassed, but I still care so much about you.
I hope you’ve made it home okay. I hope you and the kids and Agata are okay. I miss knowing every detail about your days. I thought you kept so much from me but you really did tell me almost everything. I miss our talks. I think of a hundred things a day I want to tell you. I miss you.
This isn’t fair. The way things ended. It feels so unfinished. We need to talk. But I’m scared that there’s no solution that doesn’t end with us not talking anymore. I would give anything to go back to how it was, just to know that you’re okay.
No. That’s not true. Now that I’ve had you fully, I don’t know that I can ever go back.
I think I’m in love with you. How can that be? If you’re in love, isn’t that enough? But I guess that’s me misunderstanding how the world really works.
I am in love with you.
But I can’t tell you like this …
43
Charlie
“Don’t let her in,”I said to Agata.
“Charlie, I can hear you. Don’t be a prat. Harrison has to use the loo too,” Emma called through the door.
“Please let us in, mate,” Harrison whined.
I wasn’t mad at Emma and Harrison; I knew they didn’t do anything to ruin my life. I bought it all on myself just fine, but I hadn’t been ready to talk to them. I’d skipped the last two monthly calls and ignored the emails other than to say I was fine and assure them I wasn’t drinking or using.
“Fine.” I unlocked the door.
I growled and went back to the main hallway where I was expanding the dining area into the kitchen. I wasn’t risking any of the historical architecture of the space, but the dingy dining area needed more light.
I grabbed the sledgehammer and bashed it through a non-load-bearing wall. I’d learned a lot about renovation and my home in the last weeks with the help of a paid professional who ensured I wouldn’t bollocks things up too bad.
“Wow, it’s looking really great around here,” Emma said, walking into the room.
“Thanks.” The wall crumbled with my next smash.
“Good to be getting this aggression out,” Harrison said when he returned from the loo. “Are you still miffed with me, mate?”
