Page 64 of The Truth About You and Me
I hesitate, my eyes following his to the wedding photo on the wall. I hadn’t noticed that since visiting here, there has been no sign of a Mrs Levin.
‘Thanks. I’ll’ – I clear my throat – ‘see you next week?’
I close the door and head back to the car.
Maybe it doesn’t matter if it’s not real. The way I feel about her is.
And that might be enough.
* * *
The sea air whips around me as I sit across the road from Flicks. I’m working up the courage to go inside. Levin’s words feel less convincing right now. I’m like Julia Roberts: I am just a man, sitting outside a cinema, waiting to ask a girl to, well, not love me, exactly, but give me another chance. To listen. To try to understand.
I check my watch. I’ve waited until the film will have started. Right now she will be eating popcorn and staring at the screen. I get up, the sky now dark above me. I take a moment, run a hand through my hair and step inside.
Romy looks up from inside the booth wearing cat’s-eyes glasses. She blows a pink bubble, scratches her head with the tip of a fountain pen, her pencil-thin eyebrows raised as I make my approach. Her expression is curious but not confrontational. I wonder what, if anything, Maggie has told her.
‘Hi.’
‘Well, if it isn’t the infamous Jack Chadwick,’ she says, arms folded.
‘I wondered if you could give this to Maggie?’
Romy leans back, her chair swinging from left to right. She moves forwards, mouth closer to the perforated glass. ‘She’s inside,’ she explains through peach-glossed lips.
‘I’m not here to interrupt her evening; I wanted her to have this.’
I look down at the cash slot, take out the letter.
She eyeballs me, long fluorescent fingernails reach out to take the envelope. I hold it tightly for a moment. ‘It’s… quite private.’
‘I’m not going to open it or send it to the local rag to print, Jack.’ My shoulders drop a touch. ‘Shall I say who it’s from?’ she asks, all eyebrow arches and corrugated forehead.
‘She’ll know.’
‘I’ll see she gets it.’ I nod my thanks and exit the building.
I follow my feet through the town, hands dug deep into my pockets. OK, Levin… let’s see if you are as good as they say you are.
28
MAGGIE
I tear open the envelope, unfold the paper and rest it on the counter. Above is a poster of Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman’sPractical Magic– tonight’s film.
His handwriting is full of loops and swoops and I take a moment to let the implications of this land. This took a lot for him to do.
Dear Maggie,
I have no idea if any of this will make sense on the page, but I’m hoping that Dr Levin is right and that all of these words are somehow buried deep inside my cortex.
I smile; he’s been to see Dr Levin. Jack’s trying to read again.
I’ve been thinking about how to say what I want two to say but… I guess it boils down down to, I miss you. I miss sitting next to you and watching your face light up at the screen. I miss your laugh and the way your hair falls from behind your ears. I miss the way you sea see me. But must most of all, I miss us.
I know things have moved quickly, and I know it’s wrong to feel this way about someone I’ve only known for a short time. But I’m happiest when I’m with you.
Help me understand.
