Page 100 of The Truth About You and Me
‘I can’t.’
‘Please don’t do this. Don’t give up on us. Relationships are hard and we might have more things to overcome than most couples but?—’
‘I can’t, Jack. Not because I don’t want to… because every part of mewantsyou. Wants to bewith you. But the longer I’m with you, the harder it’s going to be to lose you. And Iwilllose you, Jack.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Yes… yes I do. These past two months have been the happiest of my life. You’ve given me a glimpse of what real love feels like, and you will never know what that means to me.’
‘I feel the same way; I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel about you.’
‘But you will.’ I soften my voice. ‘Listen to me, Jack. I have to end it. Because… I don’t think I will be able to recover from losing you if I fall even more in love with you than I already am.’
He’s still. Processing everything I’m saying. His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel.
‘Do you know what is so good about romance films?’ I ask, my voice lighter as I desperately try to explain to him. I lick my bottom lip, finding my footing with the words I need to say. ‘They give you the happy ever after without actuallyshowingthe after.’ He frowns, head pitching to the left, eyes scanning my face as I try to explain. ‘They give you the moment where the future looks happy, but they don’t show the time that passes, the arguments, the divorces. They leave you with the good bits.’ I smile at him, tears falling freely. ‘And that’s what this is… you’ve given me the good bits and I’m so, so happy with that.’
‘Don’t. Please don’t end it this way. We can do this; we can find a way.’
‘I don’t want you to have tofind a way… Don’t you see?’
He exhales, eyes full of pain. I reach for my bag, bring it onto my lap.
‘I want you to know, that for the rest of my life, I’m going to be happy. Because I got my happy ever after – truly, I did. And if we part now, then I get to imagine how our life could have turned out, just like I do at the end of a good movie.’
I put my hand on the door handle. If I don’t go now, I might not have the strength. ‘Goodbye, Jack.’
His voice stops me pulling the handle. ‘How does it turn out?’ He has tears in his eyes, his face softening. ‘The end of the movie?’
I smile through the tears, through the heartbreak. ‘We have a wonderful life together. We go on holidays, sit in busy restaurants, go to concerts, festivals, carnivals, surrounded by people. We go to your parents’ every Friday. I hug them hello; I play with your nieces, carry Jaz on my shoulders. You propose and I go on a hen night to Vegas withallof my friends. We get married and have a huge wedding, so many guests that the dance floor is full.’
‘Do we have a special wedding dance?’ he asks, voice raw.
‘Of course. We go to rehearsals and everyone claps and is amazed at our skills. We have children, a boy and a girl. You sometimes take them to work with you. They love to hear you tell them stories, and you let them choose their favourite books to go in the windows. At Christmas, we stay up late wrapping presents. I burn the turkey, but it doesn’t matter because our house is filled with friends and family.’
‘We can have all of that.’ He smiles, his face eager. ‘We just need to…’
I shake my head but I’m still smiling, even though I swear I can hear my heart ripping open. ‘Please, Jack.Pleasedo this for me. Give me my happy ending.’
He takes a deep breath in, looks back out of the window, the rain coming down heavier, the outside images like wax melting against the glass.
‘I don’t want this to be the end.’
‘But it’s not…’ I take in his side profile, commit it all to memory. ‘It’s the beginning.’ He meets my eyes. ‘Live your life, Jack, don’t hide from it. Open your shop, get married, have children and… remember me. Remember that girl you got locked in a cinema with, and wish her well. Maybe send her the odd postcard? And know that she will always,always, carry a piece of you in her heart.’
45
FRIDAY 20TH DECEMBER
Jack
I exit the police station and drive towards the new shop, having identified the ‘hoody’ man from the line-up. After I had gone in and explained that I’d made progress recuperating from the stroke, I had given a full statement. My phone vibrates and just as I have for the past five weeks, I check to see if it’s Maggie, to see if she’s changed her mind, but it’s a voice note from Dad wishing me luck and telling me to call him if I need help.
Last week the police asked me to come in. There had been a bout of attacks of women walking home late at night in Brighton and they’d made an arrest, and they thought it might be connected to my case. I’m once again grateful that I was there that night, that Maggie is safe. I can’t be one hundred per cent sure, but I’m confident it was the same guy. I hope he gets what is coming to him. My statement will add ‘assault occasioning actual bodily harm’ to his rap sheet so hopefully he will be going away for a very, very long time. Not as long as it will take for me to read a whole novel, but there we go.
Bayside is busy. Buses pass; workmen are putting barriers up, partitioning roadworks. The shop looms over me as I slide the key into the lock and flick on the lights, the empty shelves blinking against the harsh light. The room seems to expand as I walk in, a tension released as though it’s ready to be filled with stories and life. I scan the room.
There’s a few unopened letters and flyers on the floor and I pick them up. My eyes skim the symbols on one of the envelopes, my finger – automatically, now – tracing the outline of my name, to the distant sound of Darth Vader’s theme tune. My mind skips back to the curve of Maggie’s shoulder, my finger drawing an ‘s’ the night she first readGreat Gatsbyto me and the loss of her hits me again.
