Page 16 of The Truth About You and Me
I grimace. ‘Not seen it, sorry.’
‘Really? I love a good zombie flick. Oh well… at least our brains are safe then.’
I pause.
Machete.
The word finally comes to mind.
‘Fancy grabbing that coffee, now?’ she suggests, flushing, her words rushing on. ‘I’m no great cook but I have learnt to tame the coffee machine.’
But then my phone comes to life with a barrage of notifications.
We’ve got signal.
‘We might be saved!’ Maggie is beaming as she stands and takes her own phone out of her pocket.
‘Great!’ I say overly eager and stand too.
She hesitates, seeing my actions.
‘You stay here. I’ll be back in a jiffy,’ she adds.
‘Oh, yeah. Sure.’ I sit back down as she hurries from the room.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
OK, let’s think this through. This doesn’t have to be the end. I can come back. See her again. For the last few hours, I’ve seen a glimpse of a version of myself who might be able to navigate the mess that is now my life. And we might not be able to have a relationship in thenormalsense but I do want to see her again. The screen turns blue, the lights lifting back to full.
I click on Mum’s picture, hitting play: ‘Hi, darling! Congratulations! You won! I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Call me back.’
Dad’s face next: ‘Jacko!! Well done, lad – knew you could do it. Give your mother a ring, will you? She’s celebrating for the two of you and if you don’t call soon you’ll get nothing but repeats.’ I snort at that. Mum is well known for repetition once she’s had a few glasses of fizz. There are voice messages from my siblings, too, both thrilled for me, at my success. It’s too late to call, but I’ll leave a message, Mum’s phone will be on do not disturb. I hold the mic down on WhatsApp: ‘Hey, Mum, that’s great news. I’m so pleased and Nell will be too.’ My leg bounces. ‘Sorry for ducking out but at least you got to have my share of the bottle, eh?’ I pause, looking around the room. ‘Funny thing, I actually ended up going to the cinema and I…’ I’ve met someone? Feel like myself for the first time since the night everything was taken from me? ‘I’ve had a good night. Been introduced to John Hughes. Not the real one, obviously, but, anyway, thanks for picking up the award. I bet your acceptance speech was class. Hope you’ve had a fun night and that you’ve drunk some water. Night, Mum.’ I release the button.
A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth; Nellwillbe thrilled. It should have been her picking up the award. It’s been Nell who has introduced more author events, Nell who has kept the shop flourishing. If I hadn’t had the stroke, right now I’d probably still be celebrating, staying in a good hotel with thick white sheets. Vicky lying next to me, wedding bands on our fingers.
I take in my surroundings, Henry’s smile, the plastic purple cup with a faint lipstick mark around the paper straw, a screwed-up napkin, and the trace of Maggie’s lemon scent. The image of white sheets and wedding bands fades. I click on Nell’s face, playing her message: ‘Hey, heart-stopper, congratulations! Hope you get lucky. I’ve left you a box of ribbed, extra-large’ – Maggie comes back into the room with a bright smile, her phone being passed between her hands. I fumble with my phone, urgently swiping at Nell’s message – ‘and a bottle of strawberry-flavoured lube next to the till… I’mkidding. It’s cherry-flavoured.’ Nell continues despite my furious thumb swiping. ‘I’ve locked up so have fun, oh and Jack? If you think there’s a chance you will get lucky? Maybe knock one out first, eh? Girls have high expectations and looking like you do—’ I finally close the message. Maggie lifts her eyebrows. ‘Sorry. That’s Nell. She’s, um, a joker,’ I add.
‘Cherry lube?’
‘She’s joking.’
She raises her hands. ‘Hey, each to their own. No judgements here.’ She smirks like she’s enjoying watching me squirm. ‘So, Jack.’ She sits side-saddle on the armrest. ‘I’ve typed out a message to Romy, telling her we’re locked in. She lives two streets away and can be here in ten.’ Disappointment pulls at me, like my spine is made of steel and the floor is magnetic.
‘Great.’ I can hear how false that sounds. There is a spark of something behind Maggie’s eyes: mischief, excitement, a glimmer of something unexpected.
‘But, you see. The thing is… I, well, I don’t get to do this’ – she gestures around the room then at me – ‘very often.’ She tucks her thick curls behind her right ear. They stay there for a second before falling back over the curve of her cheek. ‘I mean I do this’ – she gestures to Henry and the screen and then herself – ‘but I’m normally alone. And so… I guess what I’m trying to say is I would really like to not press send.’ She holds her phone up to me. ‘But if you need to go, I?—’
‘Don’t press send.’ My voice is quiet. ‘Don’t press send,’ I repeat, more certain this time.
10
MAGGIE
I know more than I should about the man beside me.
After a brief intermission where I battled with Colin’s password system, I’ve managed to getThe Breakfast Clubrunning. We’ve also managed to find an unopened bottle of tequila in lost property and added some to our slushies.
Jack is broken. His thoughts as he touched me were so loud, so clear. I know he’s had his heart shattered; I know he’s lost something of himself. That he wants answers to a question I couldn’t quite place. It was as though there was a gap behind his thoughts. It’s hard to explain exactly. For the most part, I just hear people’s thoughts. But when they are stressed or upset, it’s well… it’s more than thoughts burrowing their way into my head. I can feel their emotions, like they’re so strongly attached to their thoughts, they’re unable to separate them. Sometimes, I even get flashes of memories, images, as if they’re being projected into my mind. I suppose it’s like when you smell a specific perfume or hear a piece of music that is so tightly linked to a memory, it’s hard to differentiate one from the other. Thoughts… memories, emotions are so extraordinarily tethered to the other parts of the brain, it’s understandable that elements of these would also pass on to me.
