Page 108 of The Truth About You and Me
‘Cheers.’ I gesture to the bar. ‘Coffee? Tea? We have beer on tap…’
‘Ah no thanks. I won’t beat about the bush. I wanted to give you this.’
He unpacks a pile of paper, bound together at the top with a bulldog clip. I glance down. ‘Um, you do know this will take me about a decade to read?’
‘I know, I know, and call me sentimental but still. I’m pretty hopeful my career is going to take an upward swing when I publish this, and, well, it felt right that you should have it first. It’s my first draft. It needs a lot of work yet…’
My finger follows the first letter. Ffff. Then the next. Iiiii. Nnnn. My brain pulls away but I force it back with a snap. Din? I let out a breath. Ggg. Fiiiinnnndddd-ing. Finding. The familiar Darth Vader death march leaves me with no qualms about the last word.
‘Finding Jack?’
‘I know it’s a bit on the nose, and well, I can change it if needs be, but it felt right somehow.’ He crunches his gloves in his hands. ‘I can change the title if you want?’
‘No. No.’ The lump in my throat bumps up and down. ‘That’s a great title.’
He gives a little nod. ‘Oxford University Press are interested in the pitch and, well, it might help. Others. You know. Like you. You’re my best case study.’
I laugh. ‘Thank you, Dr Levin. For this and for everything. I know I wasn’t always the easiest of patients.’
He taps his palm with his gloves and smiles. ‘It was an honour, Jack, really. And if I might be so bold… but I’m very proud of you.’ He looks around, eyes lighting up as he takes in the shop. He gives me a slightly awkward pat on the shoulder, clears his throat and pulls his gloves back on and heads to the door.
‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to pop in. Once in a while?’ He pulls up his collar and tries to pat down his wild hair.
‘I’d like that. I…’ He turns back at my words, bushy eyebrows puckering up. ‘I… I never thought that I’d ever find pleasure in books again and, well, thanks. Again.’
‘Truth be told, I was on the verge of giving up. You came to me and validated my research. I’m just as grateful to you as you are to me.’
He puts out a hand and I shake it. It turns into this weird man hug, hand-shaking, shoulder-clapping affair. I close the door behind him, pull down the shutters and stand looking at the inside of Chadwick’s the Second with my hands in my back pockets, and a swell of pride in my chest. I check the clock on the wall, the hands hitting ten past ten: happy time Maggie used to say, when the clock is smiling. I wonder what she’s doing, if she’s noticed the time too.
I’m about to turn off the light when a postcard falls from the wall. I bend, pick it up, see Ferris Bueller looking up at me with his rebellious grin. We never did get to watch it together, but having it in my hand makes me feel closer to her, reminds me of the first night we met. I clutch it in my hand, make my way to the counter, pulling open a drawer. I don’t let myself think too much about what I’m doing, just peel a save the date sticker off a sheet with the opening day and time and stick it on the back. I write Maggie’s address, stick a stamp on and put it in the pile of envelopes ready to post in the morning.
50
MAGGIE
Gloria meets me at the door.
She goes to hug me. I’m too caught up in my thoughts about getting to Riz that I don’t pull back in time.
Poor love. Multiple myeloma.
Blood cancer.
There’s a rush of compassion, and fleeting thoughts of Riz over the past months, becoming more tired and not eating. A brief conversation where Gloria suggested calling me and Riz being adamant that she didn’t need a fuss over her feeling a bit under the weather. I pull back.
‘Am I too late?’ Relief rushes through me as Gloria shakes her head. ‘No. No, love. Let’s get you to her, shall we?’ She takes Henry from me, pushes him behind the desk.
The corridor feels longer than ever, like it goes on for miles, each door slanted, the walls closing in as I walk. The sounds of my boots clicking with each step.
Gloria pushes the door back and lets me through. I pass the small living area, her photos smiling up at me, her life so full and vibrant despite the darkness flooding my thoughts.
Riz is lying back, her hair clipped with a green-emerald butterfly. Her lips are pale, her breathing shallow. I sink into the seat beside the bed, shifting in closer.
‘Talk to her, let her know you’re here,’ Gloria says gently. ‘Just press the buzzer if you need me.’
‘Is there anything that can be done?’ I ask, my voice breaking.
‘No, love. When it’s time, it’s time. And she was adamant, right from the first day she walked in here and asked for a room with a view of the sea.’ She gives me a smile. ‘I did try to get her to tell you, love. But she’d made her choice and you know how headstrong she is.’
