Page 11 of Rewrite the Stars
‘Ah, I dunno, Charlie. I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants guy when it comes to it,’ he says, then turns towards me again, leaning on his elbow on top of his half of the pillow. ‘I used to think I was going to be a real-life rock star, and I’d some really good opportunities that got me close, but I bailed out. I messed it up, so now I like to just go with the flow and see where it takes me. Right now, I’m bluffing around in some real estate but it’s not for me at all.’
‘Real estate?’ I say, laughing at the contrast of it all. ‘I can’t imagine you in a shirt and tie showing people round fancy houses.’
He sits up straight and puts on his best poker face, then laughs in return.
‘You know, it pays the bills for now, so I count myself lucky, I suppose.’
So, he messed it up. I’ve a feeling my brother could tell me exactly how if he wanted to, but he never did.
‘Tell me more about you, Charlie girl.’
He pushes my hair back and his eyes dart around my face. He has such a handsome face.
I shake my head. ‘You really aren’t going to drop that name, are you?’
He looks so blasé. ‘Why should I? It suits you. Charlotte is too posh.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘And you think I’m not posh?’
‘Are you posh?’ he laughs.
‘No way,’ I say to him. ‘But posh girls can be fun too, you know.’
He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me closer into the heat of his body. ‘I’ve a feeling we’re going to have a lot of fun, Charlie,’ he says with a wink, pulling the duvet up over us again. ‘So, go on. Tell me more about what you’ve been up to since I first fell for you and life got in the way.’
I take a deep breath. He fell forme? Although I’d always hoped he had, I never thought I’d hear it directly from him.
‘Well, I’m a big twenty-seven years old now,’ I say, getting the formalities out of the way. ‘I’ve been a brunette and a redhead since I saw you last and even a shade of purple but I got rid of that quickly. And then back to blonde.’
Nowheraises an eyebrow. ‘I’d never have guessed, my little chameleon.’
I suppose that’s one way of describing my eclectic taste in fashion. My father would describe it in a totally different way, telling me some days I’m like a walking charity shop or a love child between Russell Brand and Mrs Merton.
‘As well as teaching in a lovely primary school where the kids are ace, I’ve been working the very odd shift when I can get it in Music City, a singer-songwriter-type cabaret club for about a year now, so I do sing stuff other than nursery rhymes when I get the chance,’ I tell him.
‘You’ve done really well for yourself so far,’ he says. ‘Is it a permanent post at the school?’
I nod and can’t help but smile with pride.
‘It’s just been confirmed. They want to keep me,’ I tell him, and he holds up a hand for a high five. Everyone knows it’s almost impossible to find a full-time permanent teaching post in Dublin, so it is something I’m very, very proud of. ‘But before I became Miss Taylor, teacher of dreams, I’d some adventures in Australia which was fun. My sister met her husband there – while I met a lot of real-life snakes, you could say. I think that’s about it.’
He looks impressed that I’ve travelled a bit, but what he doesn’t know is that he, or at least the idea of him, came with me every step of the way.
‘And Matthew?’ he asks, unable to look me in the eye when he mentions my brother’s name. ‘What’s he up to these days?’
My stomach flips. I suppose we should just get this part over and done with.
‘He’s living back at home with my parents,’ I tell him, feeling my brow break into a frown at the thought of what has become of Matthew. ‘They’re looking after him as well as they can, but it’s been hard on everyone. It’s been so hard on us all watching him lose interest in everything he worked so hard for.’
Tom lets out a deep sigh that sounds a lot like regret.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that,’ he says.
It’s not Tom’s fault. It’s no one’s fault that this darkness has got such a grasp of my once so flamboyant big brother who was always bursting with life and energy, convinced that the sky was the limit when it came to chasing his dreams.
‘He’s got a job in the little corner shop, which takes his mind off his troubles a little,’ I continue. ‘Not exactly the architect or big star he dreamed of becoming, but it gives him a purpose and that’s what we all need, isn’t it? We need something to get out of bed for in the morning.’
I draw imaginary circles on his arm as I speak.
