Page 10 of This Thing With Charlie

Then there was a knock on the door, no doubt Charlie asking me not to kick at the walls, thus disturbing Mrs Harris’s beauty sleep.

It was Charlie, of course, because who else would it be? And he was carrying a cup of ginger tea with lemon, his coat buttoned up and his scarf tightly wound around his neck.

I immediately missed seeing all the leather straps and silly pearls against his skin and tried to not look at him at all.

“You forgot your tea,” he said, walking up to the bedside table, placing the cup down on a coaster he had magicked up from his coat pocket. “I’m heading home, so I thought I would bring it up to you.”

“Thank you,” I piped out in a pathetic little voice.

“Daniel,” he said, and then he walked up, keeping a perfectly acceptable distance before carefully stroking my bare arm.

He made me shiver and not in a good way because he honestly frightened me. He scared me with all the feelings I couldn’t control. He scared me because of how much he had come to mean to me, and he scared me because I knew I was lonely and depressed, and he was the only human in the world that had shown me any kind of affection in an awfully long time. And I knew it was wrong, and I knew it was pathetic, but I hugged him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in and sobbed into his shoulder as he carefully started to rub my back, shushing gently in my ear.

“It’s okay. Nobody died, okay?”

Nobody died. He could say that again, but I thought everything else around me had died as I let long drawn-out painful sobs produce enough snot to warrant me paying to dry-clean his coat. I tried to tell him that as well, but most of it just came out in pathetic lumps of blubbering nonsense.

“You are exhausted.”

I was. I could admit to that.

“So, what is going to happen is that you are going to get into this lovely comfortable bed with its cheap-arse made in god-knows-where duvets that we are marketing as the height of luxury. They are filled with cheap replica stuffing, by the way, and not duck down despite our recent adverts. Just so you know,” he said, obviously trying to make me laugh. I didn’t because right now? I had nothing to laugh about.

“Stay… for a bit?” I asked, grabbing at his arm as he covered my body with the cheap replica duvet. I didn’t care if the duvet was made in Hell at this point, as long as he stayed next to me. “I could do with some company.” I didn’t mean that in any way, except what I meant. I just wanted someone to share my space. I wanted him to be next to me so I wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Want me to sit here?” he said, unwrapping the scarf from his neck.

His shirt was unbuttoned like he’d usually wear it, his collection of necklaces riding the hem of the vest that showed underneath. I realised I loved his freckles, the way they showed up against the pale white cotton. I realised I loved all the little pieces of jewellery he wore on his skin. I loved the little nose ring that glittered in the soft sheen from the bedside lights. I loved that he was different, different from everything I had ever loved before, and in my muddled brain, I was starting to wonder if everything I had ever done before had been wrong, and that maybe, Charlie was my right?

“I’ve been up since four this morning,” he said softly as he let the coat drop from his shoulders, the heavy fabric falling to the floor with a thud.

“You must be exhausted too,” I said, pulling the duvet tighter under my chin.

“You mind if I lie down on the other side of the bed? I’ll stick to my side. I won’t do anything stupid, like try to kiss you again. I’ll leave as soon as you’re asleep. Would that work for you?”

I could hear the laughter in his voice and the smile that crept up on my lips strangely made me calm. I’d lied before. I didn’t want to be alone, but more than that, I wanted…

I lay there with the bedside light on, listening to him curl up behind me. He sat up at one point and dragged his coat back up from the floor, letting the weight of it travel over my body before he covered himself up underneath it. I listened to him breathe, revelling in having him there beside me.

For the first time in almost seven months, I was not sleeping on my own, and I fell into an almost comatose state until the light shattered the silence, and I was once again, alone.

This thing with Charlie had become the only thing I cared about. And he was the only thing I could think of as I stood there staring at myself in the mirror.

“I am a bisexual man,” I tried, cringing at myself. “I identify as pansexual.” That didn’t feel comfortable either as the words stuttered out of my mouth. “I have a boyfriend,” sounded juvenile and dumb.

“He’s my Charlie,” rolled off my tongue with ease and made me giggle as I clumsily tied my now-too-long hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. I should really get a haircut and perhaps book in somewhere for a swim and a massage. All the things I had done in London as little pick-me-ups, things that now sounded foreign and strange as I tried to remember if Chistleworth even had a spa. I needed to find a good gym, too, and try to get healthy and fit.

I would have to ask Charlie for recommendations, whenever I saw him next. I knew nothing of where he would be for Christmas, and I glanced up at the windows over the bakery as I walked to work with my coat wrapped tightly around me. We had again managed to talk about everything and nothing, omitting all those details that now seemed important. But now it was Saturday, and I was on weekend duty, manning the emergency phones and dealing with urgent matters from all over Chistleworth County.

I was glad to be busy. I dealt with telephone consultations, as a chatty temp manned the reception for me, scheduling home visits and appointments for the people in need of my help. She didn’t seem to mind my quietness, and I was grateful for her easy manners, making work a nice change from my usual anxious weekdays.

There was nothing for my lunch, but I soldiered through, my stomach still high on the curry from the night before and the bacon sandwich Penny had wrapped up for my breakfast.

I would miss living at the Nordic Star, which suddenly felt more like home than any of the places I’d ever lived. I would miss the evenings sitting by the fire, the hearty home-cooked dinners, and the company of the man who dominated my brain. He was dominating me all right, and I laughed as I thought of whips and chains. I didn’t need any of those, he just held me captive with his stupid red hair and unfashionable, lumberjack shirts.

I asked Penny for his number when I returned to find her manning the place. She laughed citing Data Protection rules and told me to look him up on Facebook.

I considered walking across to the bakery and declaring my undying love to him by shouting in the street, but I wasn’t sure of my undying love. And I still hadn’t considered the physical part of all this.

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