Page 129 of Inbetweeners
“Fuck no. Not the biggest. You’ll see a side of me that I like to keep hidden. It’s not attractive.”
“Everything about you is attractive.”
Emmett bit his lip. “Did I imagine you saying that?”
“Probably.”
“Arsehole.”
“There you have me.”
“I was thinking…” Emmett said, and still thought about backtracking as the words formed in his head. “How would you feel if I said I’d go back to Hell with you?”
Phoenix gasped, the car veered over the middle line and someone’s horn blared. “I’d think you were completely crazy. Don’t even think it.”
“I’d rather be in Hell with you than Heaven without you,” Emmett whispered.
“You’re not thinking straight. You don’t get what you want in Hell. If you wanted to be with me, that’s the last place you’d end up. Don’t even contemplate asking for that. The only thing that would make me happy is knowing you’re not there being cut and tortured and fucked by… No, Emmett. Don’t. Okay. Just…no.”
“All right.” Though Emmett wished Phoenix had prefaced all that with something different. Something like—I’d love that more than anything, but…Or…You don’t how much it means to me to hear you say that.Only he hadn’t.
Was today the last day? Would they suddenly get whisked back to where they came from? To Emmett’s sterile pod and his boring mosaic table? He’d never complain about them again. At least he’d learned a lesson or two. Be grateful, not resentful. Find something to be happy about, not complain about things that don’t really matter.
The greatest irony was that much as he’d thought he wanted to keep the memories of the time he’d spent back here, now he wasn’t sure that he did. Knowing Phoenix was suffering in Hell, how could Emmett ever feel happy about anything he did in Heaven? This entire thing, bringing them back to do this work, was cruel.
The last time he’d chosen not to remember—well, he still couldn’t recall why—but he figured he must have thought he’d be better starting afresh without the emotional baggage of his failures and fuck-ups. Now, if he took the option not to remember, it would be because the pain of remembering would be crippling. He glanced at Phoenix, who must have sensed his attention because he turned and smiled.I don’t want to forget him. But how can I remember him and ever feel happy knowing what he’s going through?
“I found my brother,” Phoenix said.
“Is he close?”
“Herne Bay in Kent.”
“That’s not too far away.”
“No.”
“Want to go and see him? You can tell him you’ve been working for the British Arctic Research Station at Ny-Ålesund on Spitsbergen. Ready-made explanation.”
Phoenix laughed.
I like making him laugh.
“Have you remembered why you said that?”
“One of David’s friends works there. Another arsehole. Well, he was.”
Phoenix rolled his eyes.
“I wish we’d asked Tar if we could have a few more days after we’ve done what we came here to do,” Emmett said. “Or just one perfect day. I don’t know whether it’s up to him, though. Probably not.”
“What would you do on your perfect day?”
Emmett leaned back in the seat and stretched his sore neck. “I’d watch the sun rise and I’d watch it set. In between, it would shine in a bright blue sky, with maybe some of those huge, fluffy cumulous clouds where you can pick out animal shapes. Some place quiet, with a view of mountains and snow, or a beach and a warm sea. Everything I like to eat and drink available. Time to finish whatever book I’d started. My favourite music playing. And a friend by my side. One I could keep. That would be a pretty perfect day.”
“I wonder if you were told your death would happen on a specific day, if say, a meteorite was going to destroy the Earth, but that the day before could be anything in the world you wanted, if you’d be able to enjoy your final day knowing what was coming.”
“Maybe enjoy is too strong a word, but it would be a time for love, for saying what was in your heart, to be as happy as you could be and to make those around you feel the same. When people have known that they were going to die, those on planes that were going down, or those inside shipping containers and running out of air, it’s family and loved ones they want to contact. Their last words were ones of love. Not bitterness. Not even blame. I didn’t have anyone I’d have wanted to be with on that last day. No one I wanted to tell that I loved them. That’s kind of sad.”
