Page 68 of Rewrite the Stars
He hiccups then and excuses himself. I manage to laugh and roll my eyes as the moment, however beautiful, is gone.
I sit back in my seat, wondering why on earth I thought for even a second it was going to be just the two of us here today where we would reminisce and talk about where it all went wrong in our love story. I’d imagined us sitting on the bench where we had that last most wonderful day together, looking out at the sea, where he’d tell me how I inspired so much of his music, and how he never really let my love go all this time.
Is that what I’d hoped for? I’m not even sure it was, but I definitely didn’t anticipate that I’d land in the midst of an afternoon party where the drinks, and God knows what else is going at this ‘party’, are plentiful.
I’m just about to ask Tom how he is, or attempt to indulge in other such small talk, when we’re joined by a girl who goes by the name of Eva and who seems to be in a bit of momentary despair. It’s the girl from outside, the foreign girl who was on the phone when I was coming in here, the one who looked straight through me when I tried to greet her.
‘She is, like, totally lost,’ she says, throwing her phone down onto the table. ‘I give up on her. She just has simply no sense of direction, Tom, so you’re going to have to send someone to go get her. The girl is clueless around that city. She’s too hungover to concentrate and she says she spent the whole day crying because you won’t answer your phone. Again!’
Tom grasps his hair in his hands and pushes it back so that his handsome face stretches, then he starts laughing. I assume they are talking about his fiancée, Ana.
‘What the hell is her problem? I told you to tell her to get a taxi and come out here to Howth,’ he says, his voice pinched and unnerving now. ‘I don’t know how much simpler it can be. We’re chilling, here, man! She’s really pushing me on this trip and you’re not helping either, Eva. Give me a break, please!’
I stare at the table, totally lost and out of my depth in these unfamiliar surroundings. Eva, who I take it is one of Ana’s supermodel buddies, is still to acknowledge I exist but I’m happy to sit here like I’m invisible. I also feel small, frumpy and ordinary next to her and no matter how many times I sit up straight and fix my posture, I know I’m totally way out of my comfort zone.
‘So, tell me Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,’ says Tom, singing my name, evidently having forgotten that his future wife is stuck in a hotel room in Dublin and can’t probably spell the word Howth, never mind pronounce it to a taxi driver. ‘You wanted to see me. How’s life with you? I can’t believe you went and got married and didn’t even give me one last chance.’
You wanted to see me.I suppose that is the truth, but the way he says it makes me sound like some desperate fan wanting a ‘meet and greet’ at a time when he really could be doing better things.
He says all of this totally out loud but the band aren’t one bit bothered by his big revelation that I should have given him ‘one last chance’. If he’d said all this to me privately, I might have taken him seriously but to do so in company just seems jokey, like he is paying lip service.
Eva snorts in response.
‘Ah, you must be another one of Tom’s girls who got away,’ she says, throwing her eyes up to the heavens and flicking back her long dark hair, all while texting on her phone. ‘Aren’t you the lucky one! Ask Ana. He can’t even be bothered to help her find her way from the hotel in the city. Poor girl only got two hours’ sleep and he should have waited on her, but no.’
The tension between Eva and Tom, who I’m unlucky enough to be sitting in between, is mounting fast but, when I look in Tom’s direction, he doesn’t seem to really give a shit. Could this have been me? Could I have been Ana, left behind in a hotel room in a strange city while he parties with his friends?
‘Can you get my friend a drink?’ he asks Eva, firmly and to the point, as if that’s what she’s here for. ‘I’d like to buy Charlie Taylor a drink. Hey, by the way, how’s your brother? I do think about him sometimes, you know. God, he really didn’t get it easy, did he? Is he OK?’
His words and questions mirror those he asked me that night outside Pip’s Bar when he enquired about Matthew. I feel a little bit angry now when I see how different his life is and how indifferent to Matthew’s he is with his casual question, but this isn’t the time or the place to show it. Matthew certainly wasn’t OK back then three years ago when he first enquired of him. He was crippled with depression, living back at home in our family home with Mam and Dad, his dreams of becoming a star like Tom crushed into oblivion. He wasn’t OK then and now he is in a wheelchair trying to learn to walk again while he sings cover songs in tourist bars. I’m not sure there’s a straightforward answer to whether or not he is OK.
But once again, just like the night in Pip’s Bar, I won’t let my brother down.
‘Matthew is still as strong and resilient as ever,’ I say. ‘He’s made a new life for himself over on the west coast and he’s very happy. He’s determined to walk again and we all believe he will.’
I don’t honestly think Tom listened to even one word I just said.
I want to ask him for some time on our own, just so we can talk about … I feel tears sting my eyes again now that Matthew is in my head. I think of Jack and how strong a force we are as a family as we’ve worked so hard to get Matthew all the medical help we can find for him.
Actually, what on earth do I want to talk to Tom about? Another penny drops when I realize I know absolutely nothing about this man and he knows even less about me.
Would we talk about his family? I’ve never met any of them.
His music? I think I already can see how that’s all been going.
His love life? Again, that’s all pretty much right in my face when I see how he doesn’t really seem too bothered that he has a fiancée.
I don’t have anything to talk to him about. I don’t know him at all.
He’s been partying for days, he has a fiancée who is trying to keep up with him and evidently can’t, and it looks like I’m just one of many women from his past who came and left while he followed his dream and left a trail of broken hearts in his wake.
Then, just when I’m coming to my senses and realizing that he really couldn’t care less if I’m here or not, he reels me in with a statement that makes me very much the focus of everyone’s attention.
‘Guys, this girl could have been one of the most famous songwriters of our time,’ he announces, finally remembering I’m beside him. Even Eva perks up her ears to listen and takes her eyes away from her phone. ‘She sang her songs for me one day back in the Déjà Vu days and I fell for her hook, line and sinker. Will you sing for us, Charlie? I’ll get my guitar. Go on, sing us one of your songs.’
My heart starts to race.
‘Let me get the girl a drink and give her time to relax,’ says Eva. ‘What do you want, Charlie? I’ll shout the bar.’
