Page 68 of Charlie Sunshine
“I might have done,” he says casually. “But it’s common behaviour amongst characters with very shallow personalities.”
“I beg yourpardon,” I say, glaring at him. “It isn’t a common occurrence at all.” The group stares at me with their mouths open. “I meanto say that sometimes people make mistakes that they shouldn’t have,” I say quickly. “But then other characters don’t pick up their phones so they can apologise for their behaviour.”
“This was in the Middle Ages,” Rita says. Her hair is wild-looking from running her hands through it. “Therewereno phones.”
“It’s a metaphor,” I say .
A smile tugs at Misha’s mouth, but it quickly dies, and we go back to glaring at each other.
“Perhaps that character should have tried harder, rather than leaving the other person feeling like shit,” he suggests.
“Perhaps he tried and couldn’t get through because the other person was sulking like a child.”
“Perhaps the other character was very hurt and just thought, ‘Fuck him.’”
“You know, I think I’d like to read this one,” Mr Pinter breaks in. “It sounds much more interesting than the other stuff Charlie picked.”
A nerve ticks in Misha’s jaw.
“Perhaps,” I say loudly, and Mr Jessop jumps. “Perhaps the other character needs to apologise, and they just need to talk.”
“Well, that’s a very tired and predictable plot device,” Rita says disapprovingly.
Misha shrugs. “Maybe that’s all it takes,” he says.
Joan drains her glass. “Well, the wine’s all gone,” she says. “So that’s me finished. Wine always helps me deal with people. It’s never a good idea to let it run dry during book club, Charlie. Perhaps we should pick our books for next week, and Rita can make sure that she actually reads them this time.”
“Ididread them,” Rita hisses. “Charlie, is it possible that you and Misha have a different copy? You know, like when they put out adult versions of the Harry Potter books?”
“They put out adultcovers,” I say patiently and for the five hundredth time. “There was no adult content to go with them. Harry and Ron didn’t suddenly start going to strip bars. Hermione didn’t huff glue with Nearly Headless Nick.”
The sudden silence is broken by Mr Pinter’s bark of laughter. “I want to read books like that. Remember when Mrs Hannigan was amember, and she chose all those covers with the men with their abs? What did you call them, Rita? An abomination of literature?” He nudges her. “Bet you didn’t skimthosebooks.”
“I didn’t skimanything,” she starts to say but is interrupted as everyone stands and begins to chatter about next week’s selections.
After helping them with getting their books stamped, I see them to the door. I breathe a silent sigh of relief as they wave goodbye and vanish into the night.
Joan pauses as she’s on her way out. “Where’s that Misha gone?” she asks, craning her neck around.
“Oh, I think he went out first,” I lie blithely. I am quite aware that he’s leaning against the non-fiction stacks at the back of the library.
“Shame. Hope he comes again. He had a very different way of looking at books.”
“You can say that again,” I mutter, smiling.
I close and lock the doors. Silence falls. “Bring me the shutter bolts, will you?” I call, and Misha’s dark figure detaches from the shadows. He stops at the counter and leans over, coming up with the Tupperware box containing the bolts used to lock the shutters.
I press the button, and the shutters rattle down. The noise is unnaturally loud in the silence between us, and abruptly I’ve had enough. I hate feeling like I can’t reach out and touch him or speak to him.
“Well, I think we’ve learnt some lessons tonight,” I say over-brightly.
“Is it that your book club don’t actually read the books you choose?” he says. “Or that you behaved like a complete tosser this morning?”
“Misha,” I say imploringly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Really? And what exactly are you sorry for?” There’s a peculiar sense of waiting about him, as if he’s holding his breath.
“Well, for walking out like that this morning. I still can’t believe I did it.”
