Page 77 of The First Time I Saw You
‘You’re not going to die. You’re going to be OK, do you hear me? Charlie? You’re going to be OK.’ I kiss his forehead and move him into the recovery position.
The envelope crinkles as I shift my weight. What words are written inside? I pull it out of my pocket and wave it in front of his face.
‘What does this say, Charlie?’ I sit in the space left by the curve of his torso. ‘Open your eyes! Talk to me. You need to stay awake, what does this say?’
He murmurs something but the sound is like a moan, a sigh – a word filled with pain. I lean forward.
‘Charlie?’
‘Friend,’ he says.
I run my finger under the seal and tear open the envelope. The paper is so light – the crease has been pressed precisely; it crinkles and flutters in my fingers as I unfold it – and yet the words, neatly written in blue ink, are heavy, and their meaning filled with weight.
‘Dear Sophie and Bean,’ I begin. I take a deep breath and reach for Charlie’s arm. I place my fingers firmly around his wrist, putting pressure on his vein so that I can feel it pulsing against my fingertips.
‘I’ve tried to start this letter so many times that it seems there is no right way to begin, so here it is.
‘I suppose the first thing I should say is sorry. I know what I have done is selfish—You’re damn right it’s selfish,’ I mutter, wiping the tear away from my cheek, the paper whispering inside my fist as I bring it back into view.
‘It’s unfair to leave you with this mess, but please understand that it’s because of the strong, wonderful person that you are, that I know I can go. I have never met anyone else in my life as strong as you. I’ve never had a friend who I could trust my life with, or in this case, my death.’ The word hovers, tangled in my vocal cords, barely making it out of my mouth. Charlie’s eyes open again fleetingly, searching me out before they close beneath heavy lids.
‘I’m so glad to have met you both. You have given me a purpose for the last few months when I thought I would never have one again. Having you as a friend has brought meaning to my life, Sophie. I see so much of myself in you – the person that I used to be, the person that I wish I could become again – but I know that it’s too late for me.
‘This letter should have been written a long time ago. I’d begun to hope that there is a life for me on this earth, but I know now that this isn’t true.You stupid idiot, of course there is!’ I look at his face and see the glimmer of a smile on his lips. I take a deep breath and continue. ‘I know that you will say there is, Sophie,– smart arse,’ I say to him, leaning in so I can just make out the sound of his shallow breathing. Satisfied, I carry on.
‘I know that you will always try to fix the problem and find the answers, but without Olivia and Jack, my life has no answers. I’m sorry but this is one puzzle that will never have the right answer. I don’t belong here without them.’My chest rises as I hold my breath, then let it out so I can continue.
‘All of my documents are in the spare room. It’s all tidy so it won’t be difficult for you to find the red box. Inside you will find that everything is in order. I’ve left the house to you and Bean in the hope that there will be some happy memories made here, not sad ones.
‘Go and find your Samuel, Sophie, With much love and thanks, Charlie.
‘Oh Charlie, you stupid, stupid man. We’ve already started making happy memories . . . we don’t have to stop.’
The grey light in the room begins to blink with blue; it fills with people, questions are thrown at me, a mask is put over his mouth and Charlie is carried out on a stretcher.
Blood is running down my leg and pooling into the hem of my nightie, the pain in my thigh a dull throb. As I look down at the stain, it grows and spreads like the bruises that used to creep along my mum’s body. Bean and I are guided out of the house as my home is, once again, covered in a blue-lighted morning.
Week Twenty-Nine
Samuel
So, what do I do now?
I plug in my headphones and try to dull this question with some techno gym mix that I downloaded last night. The treadmill can’t see either and it’s able to do its job, managing its day-to-day life without any bother. So can I. My running speeds up with the pace of the music, my breath becomes shallower, my body begins to ache, but I carry on, running down this black road that leads nowhere but takes me away from here.
It’s times like this that I miss DC and the life I had there. I would have talked to Bret about Sophie as we ran; I would have been distracted by my job, by the speed of my old life. But then I remember that Bret wouldn’t be at work for the next few weeks anyway because he always volunteers at the sports camp during the last two weeks of August.
Sleeping has become as much of a battle as the rest of my life; the images that used to fill me with colour every time I closed my eyes are now replaced with Sophie and her new family. The picture that I tried to burn into my memory won’t be extinguished.
I set the incline to six percent and push my legs through the damage that sitting around for so long has done, replaying my conversation with Sarah.
‘Nothing has really changed, Mule, not since before you knew she was looking for you. You’d accepted that she was gone, that you weren’t going to spend the rest of your life with her.’
‘I know, but Christ, if you could have seen the way she looked.’
‘Is there any chance that it could be yours?’
‘No.’ I didn’t tell her how I had sat down with my diary, circling the date Sophie was with me in DC and counting out the weeks that had passed since. I knew if that baby was mine she would be going on seven months.
