Page 22 of Rewrite the Stars
My head is spinning with what just happened. I just don’t understand. What on earth could spark such a reaction? Why is he so angry at Tom, so bitter and mad that he can’t even stand the mention of his name? I look at Angela in utter confusion and embarrassment that she witnessed such an uproar, but she looks away until I say a quick goodbye to her, deciding to go after him and demand some answers. This time she does meet my eye, but her look is now one of pity, like I’m the last to know on this sorry occasion. I jump from the bar stool to follow my brother out onto the street where I’m met with a furious blizzard of fresh snow.
‘Matthew! Matthew, where are you going? Wait for me, please!’
I’m blinded by the wind, the snow and the haze of alcohol that’s pumping through my veins and blurring my already confused state of mind.
‘Matthew!’
I reach into my pocket to find my car keys, knowing that even out here in the middle of nowhere it’s too risky to drive. My head is racing, my heart is thumping, and I know there’s no way I could get behind the wheel to follow him, wherever he has disappeared to. I’ve had almost three drinks in a very short space of time and my emotions are running high. I can’t drive, I just can’t.
But I don’t know what else to do. The snow is thick and heavy now, and then I see him. I can just about see Matthew getting into his car across the street.
‘Matthew, no!’ I shout into the roaring wind. ‘You can’t drive in this weather! You’ve had too much to drink! Matthew, please don’t!’
But he can’t hear me of course, so I try to cross the street to get to him and a car slams on the brakes, the driver shouts obscenities at me and I take a step back onto the safety of the pavement, cursing myself for being so careless in my despair. I can’t see him any more. He’s in the car. Oh no, he’s in the car!
‘Matthew, please!’ I call out into nowhere. ‘Don’t do this, I’m begging you! It’s too dangerous!’
I hear the windscreen wipers scream and I too scream out in frustration. The engine roars and I roar too, but it’s too late. He is gone.
Chapter Five
I’m standing in a sticky, roasting hot, hospital corridor back in Dublin city, waiting on a doctor to update us on Matthew’s condition. It’s one of the coldest nights of the year when most people are at home, snuggled up in front of the fire and getting into the Christmas spirit with some old-fashioned movies and a cup of something seasonal.
I haven’t felt the cold all evening though, not even as we trudged through the snow in the hospital car park, or when we stopped at the scene of the accident in horror to see Matthew’s car on its roof, showing up only under the flashing blue glare of a police siren at the side of a country road. We’re all in shock, too numb to feel anything just now.
My mother sits on a bench beside where I stand in the hospital corridor, her pale fingers entwined with pearl-coloured rosary beads, my father’s arm around her frail shoulders. Nurses in soft white plimsolls go about their business up and down the wards, very much business as usual and doing a job they should be canonized for, while hearts break around them and everyone is watching them in anticipation, waiting, pleading on a smile and some good news.
‘It’s just not like him,’ Mam keeps whispering when she’s not blessing herself or humming prayers as we wait. ‘Our Matthew would never get into the car with a drink on him. He’s not well sometimes, but he’s more sense than that. What on earth got into him? Paddy, you’ll have to have a good stern word with him when he gets home.’
My father, a tall, unassuming man who only ever ventures into the city when he really has to, lets out a deep sigh, catches my eye and the fear in his face melts my heart.
When he gets home.
If he gets homeis what we’re both thinking, but we can’t say that to Mam who is holding onto those holy beads like she’s grasping onto Matthew’s life.
If I hadn’t spontaneously gone to Pip’s Bar that night, I wouldn’t have met Tom Farley.
If I hadn’t left with him, if I’d gone back inside to my friends, I needn’t ever have mentioned his name again.
If I hadn’t come home to tell Matthew when I did, this would never have happened.
So many decisions, made by me, that led to this horror right now. And yet, no matter what is going on or how much I can dish the blame on myself, I still want to see Tom again so badly. I’ve never felt so alone and I need his strength and how he makes me feel so safe and strong like no one else can.
Emily and Kevin have gone for a cuppa in the canteen a few floors down, Mam and Dad are literally propping each other up and I’m standing here on my own up against a hard wall. I’m so confused in my thoughts and wanting the one person whose name drove Matthew into such a state in his head that he jumped into his car and had a head-on collision just two miles out of the village. Where on earth he thought he was going, we might never know.
I check my phone, my thumbs lingering on the touchscreen over the phone, longing to tell Tom what happened but afraid to at the same time in case he blames himself. There’s more to this, I know that by now, but I’ve no idea as to what that could be.
‘You must be Emily?’
I look to my right to see a handsome stranger extending a strong hand out to me. He’s wearing a three-quarter-length navy woollen coat, his auburn hair is flicked to the side and his face is grey with worry.
‘Martin?’ he says as if I should already have guessed. I must have the appearance of a startled rabbit because he drops his hand after I give him a very limp handshake.
‘I’m Charlotte, not Emily,’ I explain. ‘I’m sorry, have we met before, Martin?’
He looks down at my mother and father to say hello but they’re too busy praying to even notice he’s here.
‘Charlotte, of course,’ he says. ‘Matthew has told me all about you. You’re the very talented teacher, yes? God, this is a nightmare, isn’t it?’
