Page 102 of From Now On

‘You’re not dead then?’ is all Charlie can think of to say.

‘No.’

‘Wegrievedfor you. Wecriedfor you. We held a memorial, for fuck’s sake.’

‘I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.’

‘What exactly are yousorryfor? Bringing Mum here New Year’s Eve? Taking her out on the boat? Meeting her in the first place?’ Charlie thinks Bo should be sorry for all of those things and more. ‘Or for letting us believe that you were… that you are…’ Charlie swipes away furious tears. ‘Is Mum alive?’

The answer barely audible, ‘No.’

There’s an unbearable pain in Charlie’s chest; it’s like losing her all over again. He takes a moment before yanking his phone from his pocket and ignoring his notifications, and jabs open his photo app. Thrusts his handset towards Bo.

‘Remember him. Duke. Your son?’ He chooses another picture. ‘And her. Nina. Your daughter, who is here by the way.’ Another. ‘Both of them with Billie. Remember? You had a dog. A life.’ He whispers now. ‘A family.’ He shakes his head. Unable to process any of it.

Bo places a hand on Charlie’s knee and Charlie wants to slap it away. He wants to hold it tightly. He wants to rest his cheek on Bo’s palm, let Bo feel the bristles that sprout from his chin, ask him if he remembers teaching Charlie to shave all those years ago.Whether he remembers any of it; the day Charlie stood next to Bo at the altar, both of them awkward in suits and ties, and handed him a thin gold band along with his mother. How Bo had written his own vows and promised Charlie that he’d always look after her, always look after them.

‘It was my fault,’ Bo says. ‘We were on such a high after the gig. We felt so young and reckless and I wanted to sustain that feeling. We’d had too much to drink and when Fingers suggested going out on his boat to watch the fireworks it was—’

‘Stupid.’

‘Yeah.’

Charlie waits out the silence. Both wanting and not wanting to know the raw and painful details of that night. Details that he will pick over in the coming days, months, years.

‘When I think of that night it’s all so hazy. A blur.’

‘Did you hit your head?’ Charlie’s voice is as small as he feels. He hates the childlike desire that rises in him as he asks. An explanation that Bo can offer that he can clasp to his chest and pretend to believe it because he wants so badly for it to be true.

Yes, it was the tooth fairy who left a shiny fifty-pence piece under your pillow.

Yes, it was Santa Claus that filled up your stocking.

Yes, I hit my head and had amnesia so I’d forgotten who I was until you walked into the pub.

‘No,’ Bo says.

Charlie feels his hopes shatter against the rocks.

‘It’s hard to recall because… because it was dark and terrifying and it all happened so quickly.’ Bo squeezes his eyes closed and Charlie knows from the expression on his face that he is back there, the water sucking him under. ‘It was rougher than we’d thought.The boat capsized and… I heard her calling for me but I couldn’t find her, and then she went quiet.’ Bo’s hands wrap around his throat. ‘The salt water… it was freezing. I ducked under the surface, Hal was screaming for help. I knew he couldn’t swim. He was right by me. If I’d stretched out my hand I could have reached him. Taken him to the boat, which wasn’t far away. He could have clung on to it but… I left him. I turned away from my oldest friend and I left him to drown so I could find your mother. You know she was everything to me, Charlie lad.Everything.’

‘And did you? Find her?’ Charlie is willing for the impossible. A different ending to the story.

‘I did. But… but it was too late. She was already…’ Bo is shaking. His hands. His body. His voice. ‘I tried to hold on to her. To bring her back but the current… She slipped from my grasp and it was dark. So dark. I can swim – you know that – but I couldn’t fight against it.’

‘How did you survive?’

‘I don’t know, lad.’ Bo’s tortured eyes meet his. ‘I ask myself over and over why me and not her? Why was I spared. I’m not a religious man but… why?’ He looks to Charlie for the answer, no longer the parent. No longer dependable but unsteady and uncertain. Broken.

‘Why didn’t you come home?’

‘After I was washed up I was too shocked to think straight. I walked until I came across a caravan park. I thought I could fetch help but it was locked up for the winter. I was exhausted and I couldn’t see any other signs of civilization so I broke into a caravan and yanked down the curtains and wrapped them around myself. I thought the cold would kill me and I thought I deserved it because…because… she… your mother…’ Bo huffs out air. ‘I… I was numb I suppose is the best way to describe it. Numb.’ He nods. ‘I had a fever and I’m not sure how long I was there. I ate stale biscuits I found in the cupboard and there was water. All the time I hated myself. I thought you’d all hate me. Blame me. When I ventured out I discovered I was only a few miles up the coast. I walked back here, to Colesby Bay. I intended to ring you, honest to God I did, but… Charlie, I wasn’t right… in the head… the thought of Nina and Duke’s grief. Your grief. I… I just couldn’t bear it. She’d always been the parent, not me. I… I didn’t know how to do it without her. I was protecting them.’

‘You were protecting yourself.’ It is the sad, simple truth.

Bo shrugs. ‘Perhaps. I couldn’t see a future without her. I didn’t want one.’

‘And yet here you are. Surviving.’

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