Page 16 of The Absence of You
“I promise you, Charlotte, I’m not hurt. If anything, the fact that I wasn’t hurt is more evidence that we shouldn’t be together.” She gasps, indignation flashing across her face. I could go further and describe to her how her touch makes me nauseous, or I could tell her that for months I dreaded our time together, but I don’t need to be a complete prick. I take pity on her. “We had a good run, and we'll always be friends. You mean a lot to me.” Fuck me, the lies tripping off my tongue make me sound like a fucking pussy, but it seems to be doing the trick.
Charlotte sits on the edge of the bed and smiles softly as if she’s romanticising our relationship instead of picturing it as it really was, which was pretty fucked up.
“Yeah, we were good together. Really good.” She nods as if it satisfies her to hear me say it.
I should feel bad. But…I don’t.
“We need to make sure no one suspects we’ve broken up, though. You get that, don’t you, Grayson?” It makes me wonder what exactly she’s told Ackerman. Right back at the start of our arrangement, we decided we wouldn’t tell any of our friends the full truth. It was just less messy that way.
But does that mean Ackerman thinks she’s doing the dirty on me when she’s with him? Bet he’s pretty fucking smug if that’s the case. Pretty ironic when she was offering to get her tits out for me less than five minutes ago.
“And you must realise our parents aren’t ever going to let this go? We are going to end up together eventually, whether you like it or not Grayson. It feels like you are making this way harder than it needs to be.” She softens her voice. “Maybe you should stop fighting it.”
Fuck. I know Charlotte isn’t the enemy and this probably isn’t how she envisaged her future either. We won’t be ending up together eventually as she put it, not if I have anything to do with it, but maybe she’s right about me making life harder than it needs to be.
It takes me agreeing to a list of her demands before she finally leaves an hour later. I agree to drive her home from school at least once a week, and pick her up and drive her to school in the mornings when I don’t have early swim practice. I agree to a date in public every two weeks and that we’ll carry on attending formal events together until this school year finishes. I also agreed to go to her eighteenth birthday party in a couple of weeks. The party is a big deal to her. A chance to dress up and show off with her mates.
It was my eighteenth while we were in Paris. My family did nothing to mark it other than my father reminding me of how disappointing a son I am. During his toast he said he can remember finding out he had fathered a boy. Said he was excited to have an heir to his name, to have me one day be part of the empire he was building. He then reminded me it’d taken years for him to finally break me, to turn me into the son he wanted. He finished by saying he was glad I was sufficiently obedient. Like I’m a fucking animal he’s been training. Well, fuck him. I might be his soldier now, but even if I have to wait until he’s on his deathbed, I’ll make sure he finds out how much he’d made me hate him in the process.
After Charlotte leaves, I change my sheets. I don’t want her fucking scent in here for a minute longer than is necessary. After I’ve dumped the bedding in the laundry, I go over to my wardrobe and pull out an old shoe box that’s been stuffed at the back, behind my shoes.
Chapter Fourteen
GRAYSON
Ibrush off the dust that’s settled on top and lift the lid. There’s not much inside. A bookmark. A few cinema ticket stubs, a very brown and wilted daisy chain. A few letters written in messy handwriting.
At the bottom of the box is a handful of polaroid photos. The top one is a photo of Dahlia and I as young kids, sitting in Dee’s garden, holding ice pops. We’ve both got huge grins stretching across our faces. Dahlia has a big gap in her teeth. She’d recently lost her front teeth. Mine had fallen out the year before and my new adult teeth looked too big for my mouth. It’d taken me a while to grow into them. It was boiling hot that day, so Dee got the hosepipe out. We’d ended up soaked through, so we’d stripped off to our shorts and spent hours spraying each other. We’d had our dinner outside and even that ended up soggy.
I think back to that summer. It was the first one after I moved here. We lived in London before that. I remember my parents telling me we were moving to a new house. I spent the next few weeks worrying about leaving my old home behind. But the minute my mum opened our new front door to Dee, I’d seen the little girl on the doorstep. With her wide eyes and goofy grin, I promptly forgot every reservation I had about the move. We spent nearly every day together that summer. Suddenly, I was able to escape from my home life, and it changed everything for me. We’d been best friends from the off, and the time we spent together was easily the best thing about my childhood. The only bad thing was that she didn’t live next door permanently.
I flicked to the next photo. We’re at London Zoo, a bit older on this one. Dahlia is wearing denim dungarees and a yellow t-shirt. Her hair is in pigtails. We both have a badge with the number ten on. Our birthdays weren’t until the following month, but Dee always insisted we celebrate early, before Dahlia returned to Liverpool. I often wondered if it was because Dee knew my parents would make little to no fuss over me on the day, so she wanted to make sure I got to celebrate.
We’re standing in front of the lion enclosure. We headed straight there. Dahlia loved lions. She’d been obsessed with them since she first saw the Lion King, but she’d never seen one in real life until that day. Dahlia’s eyes are wide in the photo, her mouth open, mid scream, clutching my hand. Just as Dee snapped the picture, one of the lions let out an almighty roar and Dahlia jumped out of her skin, crying out, before instinctively reaching for my hand. It was a pretty loud roar, and I jumped too, but only Dahlia’s reaction was caught on camera. The polaroid photo developed and when Dahlia saw her expression on it, she’d been embarrassed. She insisted Dee take another picture, a big smile on her face the second time.
When we got home, she put the second photo on her dressing table and threw the original in the bin, but I snuck it into my pocket when she wasn’t looking. I never told her I kept it. I loved that photo. Dahlia was brave and loud and wild. She was full of spirit. I’d never seen her nervous before that day. As soon as she realised it was just the lion’s roar, she was fine, laughing about it.
But I kept the photo because it reminded me that even the bravest people could get scared too. I never wanted to forget that moment, when for a split second, she needed me as much as I needed her.
There are a few other photos in here from our childhood. Some of them were taken when we knew Dee was around with her camera out, a couple taken when we were unaware, but every one of them captured the innocence of our friendship perfectly.
God, I miss that. I miss Lia. A pang of longing for a simpler time twists in my chest and catches in my throat, making it hard for me to swallow. What I would give to go back to that time and relive it. But I can’t. I fucking can’t.
Slamming my fist down on the table, I swipe the contents of the box onto the floor, angry at myself for indulging my memories. I worked too hard to become immune to that pain just to let Dahlia’s return this week undo it all.
Chapter Fifteen
DAHLIA
“And then you enter it here, before crossing it off manually in the order book. It is an old-fashioned way of doing it, but it means we double up on our records in case we ever lose the internet.” My head is spinning with all the instructions my new boss, Beth, has given me this morning. I jot down what she says in my notebook. I hope it doesn’t take long to get into a routine with it. I want to keep this job, and I don’t want to let her down when she goes off on her maternity leave. She’s intending to carry on working from home right until her due date, but I want her to be able to rely on me to keep the store open for her on Saturdays. Luckily, it’s been quiet this morning, so we’ve had plenty of time for her to run through everything with me.
She sits on one of the comfortable velvet armchairs and runs her hand over her swollen belly. “So, I think we’ve covered everything. I’m going to meet my friend for a coffee and leave you on your own for an hour.” She must see the alarm on my face. “I’m confident you can manage, Dahlia. You are very capable. As I said, we don’t get many customers coming into the store. Most people order online these days. We get a few walk-ins, and the odd local customer making a collection, but the rest of the job will be packaging orders up. You’ll need to match them to new orders and have them ready for the courier to collect at 5pm each Saturday. You’re free to use any spare time to study. I know this is an important year for you with your exams.” I can’t believe my luck in getting this job. Beth seems more laid back than my old boss, and I won’t be on my feet all day by the sounds of it.
“I can’t thank you enough, Beth. I really appreciate the opportunity.”
“Well, believe it or not, there are very few teenagers around here who are looking for a job, so you’re doing me a favour. I just hope you don’t get too bored.” She smiles and stands up, stiffly, holding her back, before collecting her handbag off the counter. She double checks I have her number in case I need her to come back sooner. Then I’m alone in the store.
I take a deep breath in, inhaling the musty aroma of the books. There is no chance of ever getting bored here. Shelves and shelves of books: fiction, reference. New and old. It’s a paradise of words, and I would happily spend every Saturday here, even if I wasn’t getting paid.
