Page 83 of Falling Slowly
The way he vividly recounted our night in the wilderness to the captivated Miranda, I imagined him as an actor poised behind the theater curtain, eager to return to the stage and dazzle once more.
He cast me a desperate look. “But… I just did. I’m done. They’ll come and ask me to tell the same story again, and I don’t likethatstory.”
“What story?”
He stared at his hiking boots. “You know … the sanitized version. I don’t want to tell that story because every time I do, the real story fades.”
And just like that, he made sense to me. Painfully. Completely. Because it was all the things I couldn’t tell that mattered. All the moments we’d shared that I wanted to keep forever. I didn’t want them morphing into funny anecdotes or mortifying mistakes, downplayed to keep the tone light.
“I like our real story, too. The uncensored one.” I caught his eyes, and a fire rushed through me until I remembered where I was. “This isn’t part of that story, though. Right?” I glanced at the toilet bowl.
There were romantic locations, and then there was this.
He grinned. “Okay. We can edit this out.” He shifted between me and the toilet bowl, blocking my view. “Let me stay on this side of the door. I’ll close my eyes and block my ears and sing.”
I sighed. I’d given birth in front of three strangers. I could pee in front of one Charlie.
Despite my full bladder, I held still, suddenly aware of the opportunity I had. We were alone, maybe for the last time. I had to update him. “Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“I need that morning-after pill. I told my mom. She’ll drive me back to Denver.”
His eyes flashed with alarm. “What, now?”
I nodded. “I can’t risk it. What happened out there was the most terrifying and magical thing in my life.” I bit my lip, forcing myself to look into his eyes. “I don’t want it to become a cautionary tale.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Charlie
My heart hammered, and I felt the panic tightening my chest. Time was up. She was leaving, and I hadn’t told her the truth. If she returned to work, she would hear about the restructuring. If she got her phone working, she’d probably hear about it on the drive home. And she’d instantly know I’d kept it from her.
I couldn’t let her leave.
I grabbed my phone and began searching through my contacts. I needed a favor, and there was only one guy I could trust.
“Can you turn around?” Bess asked, using the safety rail to limp her way to the toilet bowl.
I found a rain soundtrack on Spotify and maxed out the volume, making it sound like someone was showering.
“I feel like I’m peeing on a lower deck of the Titanic.”
“Did the lower decks have plumbing?” I asked, focusing my eyes on the phone screen.
Trevor was online, as usual, the three dots immediately popping up as I messaged him. The giant Scot wouldn’t leave me hanging. Thankfully, he was one of the irreplaceable ones, and not worried about the restructuring.
Charlie: Are you at work?
Trevor: Yes. People are going bonkers over here. Stay away.
Charlie: SOS. I need you to drive to Cozy Creek. Via a pharmacy.
Trevor: On my way. Send me the deets.
My shoulders dropped and typed the instructions.
I heard the tap over the rain soundtrack and turned around, holding up my phone. “There! I organized a driver to pick up the pill and meet us here. ETA two hours.”
