Sex, Drugs & No Idea

37: The End and a Beginning - Santa Barbara, California

After Lily had left, the boys and Charlie had spent only a couple more days on Phi Phi Don before catching the ferry themselves, and heading over to Phuket.

Charlie had been pretty subdued and not really in the mood for the drunken shenanigans that had basically defined the entire trip. They'd spent the couple of days they'd had in Phuket soaking up the sunshine on the beaches, visiting the giant Buddha on the top of Nakkerd Hills, the dramatic and beautiful temple of Wat Chalong and, at night, had taken advantage of the night-markets in Phuket Town to stock up on all the crappy souvenir type things that people might expect you to bring them after coming back from an overseas trip.

As they sat in the airport––with the about nine-weeks worth of hangovers teetering precariously above them, ready to drop on their heads as soon as those plane doors were sealed––each of them went through their highlights from the trip. When it came to Charlie's turn he blew out his cheeks.

"Well, fellas, I've got to say that I think my highlight was a girl," he said.

He was expecting a good-natured razzing. Instead, Hugo punched Frenchy in the arm and said, "I fucking told you, mate."

"I thought you'd say something disgusting and embarrassing like that," said Golem. "It's that romantic heart that beats in that nicotine stained chest of yours."

"Cheers, Golem," Charlie said.

"Yeah. It was obvious, bro," Dang agreed.

"Obvious," said Will.

"Oh, get the fuck out of it," Charlie said, grinning. "How would you guys even know?"

Will gave him a strange look. "Why the hell do you think we even agreed to come on this trip, man?"

"What d'you mean? For the ridiculous times we were bound to have, I imagine," Charlie replied.

"Well, yeah," Will admitted, "but also to keep an eye on you, because we were worried about you, you jackass."

"What?"

"We were worried that you were going to intentionally or unintentionally do yourself in, mate," said Hugo, with his customary frankness. "We thought you were gonna drink yourself to death, or take too much of something and become one of those froth-mouthed corpses you hear about being found in an alleyway off of Sunset."

I looked incredulously around, but no one was smiling.

"Bro, you've been a mess," said Dang. "Hugo's been telling us, and we've seen it. We were worried about you. And we thought this trip would be a good way that we could watch you and help you out, and we could talk about, you know, Sophia and shit."

"A sort of less wanky sort of rehabilitation," Golem said. "And one where we got to see Hugo punch your lights out when you acted like an insolent little dickhead."

Frenchy guffawed. "That was fuckin' funny, man. He really whipped you like a red-headed stepchild, Charlie!"

"And how did that go?" Charlie said. "Not well, aye? We didn't really talk about shit––didn't sort anything out. You couldn't be trusted to be my psych nurses and talk me through my problems. Bloody typical."

Hugo leaned forward. "Yeah, we didn't really talk about it, did we? It's a hard thing to talk about. Not just for you, but for us too. So yeah, you couldn't trust us to talk about death––it's awkward––but you could trust us to stick with you, to keep an eye on you and be your punching bags when you're being a pain in the arse."

"You could trust us to be there whilst you figured out how to say goodbye to her, bro," Dang said.

"And it worked, in a way, didn't it?" Will asked. "Whoever this girl is, she changed you. Changed your head. We all noticed it, and we're glad."

"Yeah, glad that we could finally relax and not have to worry about you offin' yourself, man," Frenchy said, with his accustomed sensitivity.

Charlie looked around at the kindly faces surrounding him, and then suddenly found that he couldn't meet their eyes. He swallowed and said to the carpet, "I love you, lads. I appreciate it."

"Ah," said Hugo, "we love you too, mate."

"Speak for yourself, bro," said Dang, grinning.

"Gaaaaaay," Golem said.

#

Charlie cruised north along the highway, passing through some of his favourite coastal spots––Faria Beach, La Conchita and Carpinteria––listening to the likes of Tyler Childers, The National and Bon Iver through his leased Audi's fantastic sound system, trying to ignore the nervous squirming in his gut.

He parked the car and walked down to Butterfly Beach, along past the seawall towards the cliffs. In the near distance, he could see a slender form silhouetted against the bright white reflection of the California sun in the water that lay pooling on the hard sand. The tide was going out. The figure's long hair was trailing in the breeze, and she seemed to be alternating between kicking at the sand and staring out over the Pacific.

"Butterfly Beach," Charlie said coming up behind her. "Bit fucking twee isn't it?"

Lily Larkin turned around, and the sight of her face smote Charlie a good one right in the heart and in the stomach.

"Charlie Green," she said.

"For my sins."

They stood eyeing each other for a second or three and then he said, "I've got to know. The boyfriend?"

"Over." She didn't smile, didn't grin as if she'd finalised a plan long in the making. She'd done what was right according to her, and Charlie didn't doubt that she'd been as kind as she could about it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

"Tell you what?"

She stepped towards Charlie and she seemed to fill his vision, his whole world, but she didn't say anything.

"I didn't want pity to change anything. It wasn't something I wanted you to bear." Charlie looked at his hands, at the sea. "I still see her in things, you know. Every day."

Lily stroked his face and smiled. "Then don't forget her, but forgive yourself. All you did was survive."

"I walked away from it with a cut on my foot," Charlie said. "That's it. And she just...stopped."

Lily stepped back and her eyebrow lifted, and Charlie smiled despite himself. "You wouldn't be the first one to figure out that love defeats logic every time. None of it was your fault. It wasn't fate or luck or whatever else you want to call it. It was just life, Charlie. And life is cruel and beautiful and chaotic, and can lead you down infinite, random paths... Even to here." She took his hand. "How can you explain any of it? Why try?"

Charlie recalled again how he'd read that the closest a person can get to perfection is by living entirely in the moment. No past, no future.

"Love comes with grief, you know," Lily said. "Always." She put her arms around my neck and my hands found her waist. "But it's not our grief that sets us apart. It's how we deal with it."

Lily kissed Charlie and everything else faded away in a blaze of present.

It was better than much drink. Better than any drug. Better, almost, than the thought of Golem's face when he opened his ridiculous bowling-ball bag to find that all his clothes had been swapped out for a collection of sex toys and a pink snorkel and mask set.

The sun shone yellow and the waves broke and the world turned.

Briefly, they broke apart.

"This is perfect," Charlie murmured.

"The perfect relationship," Lily said. "Wouldn't that be something?"

And she pulled him to her again.

End