Page 116 of The Truth About You and Me
‘It… was… on a c-o-’
‘Cold n-igh-t…’
There is hushed chatter in the background but I don’t take my eyes off the page.
I turn the book around and put my finger under the word. The words are hard to find, my senses on overload. But the kids don’t get bored, they pay attention. ‘Can you help me out with this one?’
Bodies are propped onto knees, as they crane their necks to see. There’s a chorus of ‘when!’
‘Amazing. Thank you.’ I turn the book towards myself and continue reading. It takes me longer than I would like, but I guess there is something exciting about helping an adult to read. A realisation seems to sink in with parents, that this isn’t some kind of ruse to keep the children entertained. I glance up to the looks of compassion and something like understanding passing their faces. I get to the last page where the Eagle finally flies and finds his family. I know the final line because it’s the tag line on the front of the book and the press release and the posters in the window display.
‘Sometimes, you have to fall… to let the ones you love fly.’
Prompted by the parents, the kids begin to clap. My family are standing at the back of the shop, clapping and cheering like I’ve won an Oscar.
53
MAGGIE
I open my eyes. The front door is tilted to the right, my cheek against the carpet. Outside, the light is starting to dim. I wince as I sit up. I don’t know how long I have been passed out for. My body should be ice cold, but there is a warmth radiating from deep inside.
Christ, maybe I’ve had a heart attack? I stand, hand against the wall, my balance still off. Something feels different. I rub my arms, beneath my fingers. My skin feels warm.
My eyes are drawn to the floor, to the postcard from Jack. I bend, hold it tightly in my hands. I’m raw. My skin feels sunburnt and tender to the touch.
Something has changed.
I feel different.
I glance down to the card and scan through the details.
Jack’s shop opening is tonight. My eyes take in the fleeting light outside.
My instinct is so finely tuned to protect me, that a barricade of worst-case scenarios flits through my mind, but if I’m ever to break the cycle, if I’m ever to stop living my life in fear of being cast aside, then I need to change that. I need to.
I hope I’m not too late to repair the damage I’ve caused.
Don’t waste your life on what-ifs and the fear of the unknown.
I can do this. I can go.
I grab my keys and open the door.
‘Come on!’ I turn the key again but my car won’t start no matter how many times I try. I reach for my phone, swiping my finger across the screen. The last train leaves in twenty minutes.
I can make it.
If I run.
My legs are already burning as I run along the street. I sidestep and dodge the shoppers, and hold my hand up in apology as I cross in front of a car about to pull out, but most people seem to see my desperation and are happy to move out of my way. ‘Sorry!’ I shout as I almost career into a group of women strolling in a haze of expensive perfume. ‘Coming through!’ I yell as I push through the doors into the tiled floor and high-ceilinged train station, scanning the screen for my train.
‘Now arriving at platform four, the seventeen forty-nine train to…’
Shit!
I dig deep, take the steps to the overpass two at a time. The train is already thrumming against the platform. There is a loud beep reverberating through the air as the doors begin to close.
‘Wait!’ I shout. ‘Wait!’ I push my hand through the closing doors. A man holding a bike, head to toe in blue Lycra, and a furiously trimmed beard takes me in, eyes widening as his hand slams on the open button.
