Page 63 of Charlie Sunshine
I stack the notes on the table, focusing on the movement of my fingers. “Oh, well, not much,” I say brightly.
There’s a long silence, and against my will, I look up. She’s regarding me sternly. “Charlie, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say crossly. Bethany carries on looking at me with her sharp eyes, and I slump. “I didn’t talk to him this morning, so I’m not sure what he thinks about anything,” I mutter.
“Why?”
I tug at my hair. “Because he was still asleep when I left.”
“And did you leave making any noise?”
I shake my head, biting my lip. “I snuck out,” I say, words coming out in a rush. “Like a ninja. I was just flummoxed. I spent all night worrying about what we’d done. By the time morning came I didn’t know what to say to him.”
“So, you just got up and left him in bed and walked out without even saying good morning or making him a drink or giving him a celebratory blowjob?” I shake my head slowly, and she glares at me. “Oh, Charlie, that’s absolutely terrible. It’s not like you.”
I groan. “Iknow. I’m not that person at all. I always try really hard with a bloke when we’re dating. They don’t need to know about problems and shit.”
“Maybe that’s your problem.”
“What?”
“Well, you shouldn’t have to try so hard to be so happy and lovely for a bloke. No one is like that all the time, and anyone who expects it is just on a fast track to a relationship with his right hand.”
“But I should have been better for Misha, of all people,” I say in an agonised whisper. “I just started thinking about him waking up and maybe hating what we’d done, and then I fucking freaked out, andboom!” I clap. “Before I knew what I was doing, I was outside the flat and in a taxi.”
“And has he messaged you yet?”
“I haven’t dared to look,” I say, shamefaced.
She grimaces and gestures with her hand. “Hand it over.”
I reach in my pocket and place my phone in her palm and watch anxiously as she swipes the screen. “Has he left any messages? Oh shit, does he sound hurt?”
She shakes her head slowly. “There’s nothing.”
“Oh.” There’s a long pause. “Oh, well, maybe that’s good.” I can hear the shock in my voice because I thought he’d have blown up my phone by now. Misha doesn’t do silence in any area of his life. He’s forthright and honest.
“Will he be awake yet?” she asks.
I check my watch quickly and slump. “Yes, definitely at this time. He’ll be at work.” I hesitate. “And he hasn’t leftanymessages?” She nods slowly, her expression both cross and sympathetic. “Oh well, maybe that’s good, then,” I say faintly. “No harsh words.”
And it is good that he isn’t shouting at me, but that doesn’t explain why I suddenly want to talk to him so desperately that my skin itches. Not when I had every chance to do that before I crept out like a nasty twat this morning. I think of my last sight of him lying tangled in the white sheets of my bed, his olive skin glowing in the morning sunshine, his face soft in sleep.
Bethany’s silence speaks a thousand sorrowful words. I keep talking. “I mean, we’re obviously on the same page regarding the fact that we made a silly move last night. We’re probably going to totally avoid mentioning it ever again and eventually we’ll go back to normal and be friends. It’s good that we’ll do it like that. Less chance of us hating each other.”
My voice trails off. Bethany tilts her head as she observes me, looking as though she’s composing a eulogy for my sanity.
I clap. “Let’s get to work,” I say loudly and grab the phone from her, slipping it into my pocket. “I won’t check it again,” I say robustly.
She nods, both of us knowing that I will be checking my phone every five minutes like an overgrown schoolboy.
I do check it again. I check it so many times that Bethany finally removes it from my hand during our afternoon break.
“Wait,” I say crossly as she pops it in her pocket. “I need that.”
“What for? As an accessory for the outfit of sad sack you appear to be wearing today?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
