Page 6 of This Thing With Charlie

Charlie told me that the chocolate twists were from his very own secret recipe that he would never give up. Over his dead body, he said, laughing. But then he added that he would bringmechocolate twists the next time he was working at the hotel because I hadn’t lived if I hadn’t tasted proper chocolate twists.

“You’re staying a few more days, right?” he asked as I nodded.

“It looks like I get the keys on Christmas Eve now. I half dread it… the state the house will be in.”

“Nobody has lived there for ages,” he said as we crossed the football field behind Chistleworth College, the frost in the grass making our footsteps creak.

“I think it could do with a complete renovation. Perhaps if I can get a loan next year, I could do the loft up into a bigger bedroom and fit an extension at the back. Make it into a proper home with a little patio at the back instead of all that dead lawn.”

“You should put a big roof window in the loft,” Charlie said, turning around as he walked, drawing plans with his arms in the air. “A big window over your bed, where you can lie and watch the stars at night. I always dreamed of building something like that, of having a bedroom that was like a haven, full of fluffy pillows and stars in the sky.”

“Sounds… weird.” I laughed as he blushed. I could see his embarrassment as I had stupidly mocked his childish confession.

“It’s just, I need to find a place to live, eventually. You know? Have a place that’s all mine.”

“Where do you live now then?” I said, suddenly realising he’d never really told me. “Do you still live at home?”

“I live with Graham, just above the bakery. It’s handy in the mornings; I can just stumble down the stairs in my underpants and put the ovens on, then go back up and make myself a cup of tea. It works for me, and well, it’s where I live, and Graham likes the company. Then I can just head down the road and spend the afternoon at the hotel, earning my keep with my nose in my books. That’s what my mum used to say. ‘Charlie, get your nose out of those books.’ She died when I was fifteen. Then Dad passed away a few weeks later, cancer. You know? He smoked all my life, and in the end, his lungs gave out.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. This lovely happy man… and nobody to take pride in all he’d become.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t make it easier to bear.”

“I suppose,” he continued. “I still need to keep busy. I still need to go on and find out what the fuck I’m going to do with my life. It’s almost like… you know... I’m sailing the ship that is my life. I’m the captain of it all, but nobody ever taught me how to steer it. So, I just randomly keep sailing until I run aground. It never sticks though, and suddenly the ship is just sailing again. I don’t know how to stop it because there’s no place for it to dock. I don’t know where I’m supposed to be going, and there’s no map and no compass and no land anywhere in sight. That’s how I feel most of the time. So, I just keep going. Eat, sleep, work, read, take a few exams. Then I just lie in my bed exhausted, wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life. Then I wake up the next morning, and it starts all over again.”

“So, you need a window to look at the stars. Something to look at when your thoughts become too much.”

I don’t know where that confession of his came from. He nodded as I wondered why I let my mouth say all these things. How he could get me to talk, like I hadn’t been able to, in quite a while.

“Yeah,” was all he said back. “I suppose it makes sense.”

“Sounds a bit like me,” I said softly as he kicked a rock on the ground. Blowing into his frozen hands and grabbing my arm again, he led me down a gravelled path towards the pub, which glowed invitingly in the distance. I should comfort him, offer professional words of wisdom, but I realised I had none. “I don’t like the thoughts in my head, sometimes,” I confessed instead. “I don’t like that I have no idea where I’m heading. I can barely think past tomorrow if I’m honest with myself. Next year? It’s too scary to even think about it.”

“I don’t think it’s scary, just exciting,” he said quietly. “I don’t really mind which direction my life takes, but it would be nice to… you know… find a reason to make it better. Get somewhere in life. Upgrade to the next level. I never felt like I could settle down, but now, I kind of feel like planting roots. I grew up in this town. I’ve lived here all my life, yet I have no place to call home.”

“Home is where the heart is,” I said, all pathetically. “You’ll meet someone one day, and things will just make sense. Then suddenly your roots just grow wherever that person is.”

“Then they fuck off and leave you. People can suck. If they stick around, that is. I meet people, nice people even, and they never stick around. I’m just a passing fling. And to be honest, I haven’t got time for all that. I have work and things to do, and it’s just easier. You know. Hookups and little flings. I’m trying to plant my own roots. On my own. I just don’t know how to. Yet. But if I met someone? If someone…”

“You’re going to wear yourself out, working all the hours of the day like you do.” I tried to sound kind and supportive, nudging his shoulder as we took the steps up to the entrance. “You’re burning the candle at both ends, Charlie, and that never ends well. You should try to think about getting more rest. More sleep, more rest, less work… maybe more flings. Find someone to do the root thing with.”

I sounded like the nerdy doctor I was, and perhaps, I should take my own advice. Instead of moving across the country, starting a new job and pretending I could renovate a home from scratch when I didn’t even own a hammer. I also couldn’t think of anything worse than a fling.

“I miss intimacy,” I said instead, blushing as the words came out of my mouth. “I miss someone to hug when I get back from work. I miss kissing and cuddles. I miss someone sleeping next to me in my bed. I miss being... I miss being with someone.”

I’d not said it out loud like that before, but it was the truth. I missed a lot of things, but I’d never been good on my own. Never liked it.

“It’s a nice idea, having someone in your life.”

“It was lovely, for a while.”

“You need a rebound. Someone to get you back into your groove.”

“No. No, no, no.” I shook my head as I said it. “I don’t think I could take it. It would be messy and stupid and just… No. I’m going to do things right and just ride this one out. I’m going to be single and productive and build myself a life where I am simply happy with my own company. I’m going to be that lonely insane bachelor who thinks he can renovate a house. And then one day, they will find my body buried under the collapsed remnants of the roof structure, where I failed at installing some giant window in the loft. That would be just my luck.”

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