Page 94 of One More Day
‘So you’re unique, then,’ he replies quickly. ‘Unique is much more interesting than pure as the driven snow.’
I can’t help but smile.
‘I’m also a bit stubborn.’
Now he’s smiling too.
‘Challenging, you mean.’
‘And I’ve never been good with money.’
‘Generous to a fault,’ he says straight off the mark. ‘I could have guessed that.’
‘Ha, thank you.’
‘It’s all about perspective,’ he tells me, which makes my stomach flutter. ‘We’re all shaped and moulded in different ways by so many different things, Rose. You’re creative and sparkly. You light up a room.’
‘My boyfriend died,’ I blurt out like an overflowing volcano. I didn’t mean to spit it out like that but when people praise me in any way, I feel the need to tell them the truth. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m something I’m not.
Charlie looks like he’s been jolted.
‘Oh, God. Oh Rose.’
‘He died in a car accident when I was with him on Christmas Eve three years ago,’ I say, feeling my throat close and my eyes sting. ‘I vowed to spend Christmas alone since then, or at least until I feel I deserve to celebrate again.’
Charlie falls silent. I feel as if my words have just stabbed him in the heart. But now I’ve started I don’t want to stop until Charlie knows the truth about me. I have so much to face up to. Being here is heavenly, but it’s not real life and I’d rather he knew the real me, warts and all.
Charlie’s eyes dart around the room and suddenly I feel very exposed. I feel like I’ve shed my skin in front of this wonderful man and that he’s going to want to run away and never see me again. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
‘Oh Rose,’ he says, and I close my eyes waiting for him to backtrack on all the wonderful ways he was making me see myself just a few moments ago. ‘You were in an accident with him when he died?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened?’ he asked gently.
‘He died on the … he died instantly. He died on the scene,’ I stutter. ‘I called an ambulance, but it was too late. He was gone.’
I gasp so deeply it feels like I’ve been shot as I briefly see Michael’s face in my head again.
‘I screamed for him. I called his name. I reached for my phone and I couldn’t keep it in my hands I was shaking so badly, but I somehow managed to press an emergency call button. It’s still all a blur. It’s still all a nightmare.’
I try not to cry in front of Charlie but the noises in my head start up again like a spluttering engine that suddenly takes off.
Michael’s choice of music for our trip away, the cigarette smell of the car, the five o’clock shadow on his face, the way he clasped my hand and looked down at it as if for reassurance when lost in thought, the sound of the brakes screeching, the crash, the smoke, the silence.
Charlie takes his time. He doesn’t rush in. He doesn’t blurt out. He doesn’t talk for the sake of talking. He just sits with me, holding my hand which is shaking now as I sob like a baby.
I wipe the streaming tears with the back of my hand. Charlie hands me a clean napkin.
‘I think you’ve been really strong to have carried that weight all alone,’ he says. He holds my gaze with such confidence.
‘And that’s why it’s good to talk it through. In fact, sometimes the word strong is used when we simply have no choice but to keep going. We keep going, we are vulnerable but we are brave. Even the bravest of us need help, and that’s OK.’
I push away my plate and put my head in my hands.
‘Rose, look at me.’
But I can’t.
