Our Time Will Come - An After Story

117

Emery

I try to understand, but I can't quite put my finger on why he has brought me here. I take a deep breath, before taking a seat on the low swing beside him. I almost feel like I'll fall through it any second, but the way he takes my hand, reassures me that he has got me.

"Charlie, I understand" I break the painful silence. "I just wish you had talked to me" I tell him. The way he is holding his face in his hands does something to me. The sinking sensation in my heart is back with a vengeance. I feel as though he is far too proud to admit that the letter is in fact his.

"Emery. When I told you that that letter wasn't mine, I was telling the truth" he shrugs, the look In his eyes tells me that he is being authentic. "I found it" he adds, his eye contact wavering. I raise my shoulders in the hopes that he'll speed up his explanation. "That night when We were... canoodling" he begins. I will not be able to take this seriously if he continues to use that word. "I went to get a condom from my room.. and I found the letter in the hall, I didn't think anything of it as it was scrunched into a ball" he adds, he is now focusing on my eyes.

"I can see why you thought that the letter belongs to me, the writer was sixteen years old at the time
and it was January, I could go on. But the part that you probably didn't get to... is when the writer then goes on to talk about his Dad leaving him at a young age and how he had hurt many people and felt no remorse" he reveals and it suddenly makes sense. He genuinely didn't write this letter. "Oh my god... this belongs to my father. Doesn't it?" My bottom lip begins to wobble. He is quick to grab my hand and squeeze it. It hurts to think that my father felt that way when he was just my age. "It does. Which is why I didn't want you to see it. But.. he was just sixteen then. It was before he had even moved to Washington and met your mother. Look at him now, boo" he shuffles closer to me on the swing to wrap an arm around my frame.

He's right.. I guess. But it doesn't take away the sting of reading the heartfelt letter of my poor father. When I read his books for the first time and learned the errors of his past, I always told myself that I'll never understand why he acted the way he did. But now.. I do. I don't approve, but I understand. "I knew that the writing seemed a little too Intellectual to be yours. No offence" I try to lighten the mood, though I'm not in the frame of mind for banter. "Hey! I'm smart!" He playfully taps my shoulder. I smirk, before resuming to serious mode.

"Why .. how did he have this letter after so long?" I grow concerned. Wondering what he may have been doing with the letter. I have many questions that only my father can answer.  "I can't be certain...but your Nana brought a lot of your fathers old stuff from England, right?" Charlie suggests and I nod in agreement. He's probably right. I recall her retrieving a huge pile of crinkly paper from her suitcase and ordering Mike to take it up the stairs, but he groaned and said he'd do it later. This is a lot of information to process in such a short space of time, but one things for sure ... that piece of writing has potential, and my father needs to realise that. He needs to do something with it.

"I should have talked to you about how I've been feeling recently. That way, you would have known that I'd never leave you. I should have told you that today is my fathers birthday. You're not a mind reader and the way I acted towards you before, was unforgivable.
I know that You would have helped me through it like you always do. I guess I just grew tired of having to burden you with my problems.." his eyes dart to the ground and I instantly find myself cupping his chin in my hands as some form of comfort. His eyes glow into mine for a brief second and it sends vibrations through my entire body.

"Hey! Don't you ever say that" I scold him and he looks down to the ground, yet again. "There's this thing that my dad always tells my mom. I always thought it was rather lame, until I met you. But.. 'A problem shared, is a problem halved'. It's true. I will always be here for you, no matter what happens. Okay?" My voice is so soft that it almost comes out as a whisper. I soon realise that Charlie is crying. I don't remember him starting to cry, but the stream of tears that coat his rosey cheeks is the evidence. Before I know it, I'm crying too. Sobbing even. "You're my fiancé, Charlie. We tell each other everything from now on. Okay?" I squeeze his hand and he nods in agreement.

We get to talking, properly, still perched on this old rusty swing set. I learn that Charlie is truly excited to finally be a big brother like he always desired, but wounded that it's in these circumstances. I learn that Charlie's fathers birthday was one of the only times of the year that they would sit down as a family and spend time together. We reflect on our time together, we laugh, we cry and we get reacquainted. It's funny how we sleep almost every night In the same bed, yet we have been so distant from each other.

"So, Travers. What's so endearing about Blake 'wannabe gangster' Priestley, that you've started to hang around him?" I interrogate my beau. He stutters hilariously before finally stringing a sentence together. He takes a deep sigh before doing so. "For once, he didn't want trouble. Austin's recent change in lifestyle has inspired him I guess. He apologised for what happened at the train tracks .. and.. he has a very sick Dad and wanted to discuss what it's like to lose a parent" Charlie shrugs. I instantly feel bad for thinking the worst. You think of the Priestley brothers and you think .. drugs, alcohol and meaningless sex.

I guess my father was right. The Past really is a Foreign country where they do things differently. I need to stop judging people for their past, when they no longer live there. "So, Blondie. What do you think of that?" Charlie teases, putting emphasis on the vile nickname that Blake has adapted for me.

"Don't call me that!" I scoff, a slight smirk escaping my lips. "Why, blondie. What will you do to me if I call you that?" He mocks tauntingly. His voice is soft and
His eyes full of mischief and I suddenly lose control of all my senses. Would it be totally inappropriate to take him right here, by the swing set of his childhood home?
Surely it would. "I - I will"

Before I can finish my sentence,  Charlie is lifting me from this awfully low swing. My legs wrap around his waist and cling to his toned body. He steals my seat and lowers me onto his lap to face him. His mouth his desperate to claim mine and even more so when I tug at his hair. I'm aware or the fact that this swing could collapse at any second, but that doesn't stop me from straddling his lap. "Charlie" I groan as his hardness rubs against me. Holy shit, this feels good. I suddenly stop when I grow aware of the low fences and the neighbours windows being wide open. "Shit" I whisper while covering my mouth in embarrassment. Charlie joins me in the realisation before breaking his silence.

"Oh what the hell, it's just Vanessa. It's not like she hasn't done it before. Those walls are thin, let me tell you" he smirks and I join him in a fit of laughter, before realising that we definitely cannot do it here. "Come on" I climb off his lap and take his hand. "Where are we going?" He grows confused. "To my bed" I try to seductively wink, but it comes out as more of a nervous twitch. Oh god, that wasn't sexy.

"Emery, Emery, Emery. Who knew that your bossy powers would one day be put to some use" Charlie teases, before tickling me profusely around my most sensitive area, my neck. I run to escape his playful assault and before I know it, we are chasing each other home, unable to catch our breath from laughing so hard and attacking each other with tickles. This is us, this is the Emery and Charlie that I love and have missed so dearly.