Page 32 of The Consequence of You
Searching through the letters, I find the one with the most recent postage date. It’s from the beginning of January this year. Just a few days after the third anniversary of Mama's death.
Flipping it over, I slowly tear it open. I’m surprised to find it’s a card and not a letter. On the front is a picture of a simple bunch of white lilies. They were my mother’s favourite flower. My breath hitches as my fingers stroke the embossed image. Cautiously I open the card, stealing myself. Inside there’s a short message.
Callie,
I am thinking of you and your family today, and always. I miss you and I will continue to wait until the day you are ready to talk.
Yours always,
Nico x
Underneath is his phone number. Despite deleting it from my phone years ago, I still recognise the familiar sequence of numbers. It will probably be etched on my brain forever.
Dropping the card on the bed, I methodically open the rest of the envelopes. There are variations in the words, and I don’t need to read them all to know the sentiment of each message is the same. Despite my unwavering cold shoulder, he kept trying.
Fuck, I am a cold-hearted bitch.So lost in my grief, I neverstopped to think about his feelings. The earlier letters are long, pages and pages of him telling me how sorry he was about my mother. Begging to meet and talk. Begging, I let him support me. Hoping I would forgive him for his part in what happened.
The thing is, I never once believed there was anything to forgive. I was the one who lied to my mother that night. The blame lay solely with me. But in not replying, he probably spent the last few years thinking I blamed him.
I can’t let that go on for a second longer.
Before I can second guess myself, I reach for my phone and type out a message telling him I want to meet, and press send.
His reply is immediate, asking if I’m free tomorrow evening. I’d already planned to go to an exhibition at a local art gallery the following evening, so we arrange to meet there.
CHAPTER TWENTY
CALLIE
Wiping my clammy palms on my skirt, I wish I’d left the past in the past. Nervous adrenaline has been coursing through my veins since we made arrangements yesterday. Looking around the gallery, I search the crowd, looking for the familiar dark brown eyes belonging to the boy I once felt so strongly about.
He’s not here yet, which means I still have time to leave.
Pulling my coat tightly around myself, I stride quickly to the door, almost shoving past the smartly dressed men and women who are here for another reason entirely.
I’m about to reach for the door when it swings open towards me.
Fuck. It’s too late.
Nico is here, and I can’t avoid this moment any longer.
“Callie.”
I’ve heard him say my name a thousand times before, but now it feels wrong falling from his lips. This all feels so wrong.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have messaged you. I can’t do this.” My stomach lurches and I try to rush past him, but he lightly grips my elbow.
“Please Callie, I need this. Just give me five minutes.” His anguish is clear, and guilt hits me square in the chest. He deserves five minutes. Hell, he deserves a lot more than that.
Taking a deep breath, I let him lead me to a quiet corner of the room.
“You look well. How have you been?” His eyes search mine for several painful seconds as I consider how to answer. In the end, I settle on an apology.
“I’m so sorry, Nico.”
There is so much more I could say, but even if I spend the rest of the night apologising, it will never make up for the last few years. There’s a prickling behind my eyes and a tightness in my lungs. I need to leave.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.”
