Title from: Both Sides of a Smile by Dave
(Carla is screaming this whole verse at George ok iykyk! I struggled just choosing 1 line)
Carla
"You did so amazing!" Jenny is beaming as she's packing her heels she wore for the whole afternoon into her bag in preparation for her journey home. "I really thought you weren't going to get through the speech without crying." She adds, her Glaswegian accent thickening as she laughs towards the end of the sentence. I just nod in agreement as I dab some concealer recovering a few spots which had smudged in all the excitement of the afternoon.
"I'm surprised too. I really didn't think so many people would show." I admit remembering how hard my heart had been pumping with nerves before three (the time the event started). I had convinced myself that nobody would show in what can only be described a self preservation exercise. I suppose it was better to expect the worst than expect the best with things like this. When over eighty people were looking to me with expectant eyes at the start of the event I felt my heart flutter. Twelve year old me wouldn't have believed that many people would attend something just to see a sneak peak of the clothes I created. I don't even think twenty one year old me would believe it. At twenty five I barely believe it.
Jenny grunts lugging her large bag onto her shoulder after checking each work surface is back where it belongs after the madness of the afternoon. I couldn't have done today without her and I hope she knows that. "There's an envelope for you on the table." I announce reaching for the blush from the makeup bag beside me. After the event I'd went into clean up mode before being shoo'ed away by Jenny, Sian and Darryl to begin getting ready for date night.
Jenny had already wiped away the threat of tears from my eyes fifteen minutes before the beginning of the showcase. It was when I got George's phone call. The one telling me he wasn't going to make it. I had all but burst into tears before putting the phone down on him, only picking up after five redials from him and a pleading text.
He had promised this morning, he swore when he dropped me off at the doors of the studio that he would make it back in time. He guaranteed that since the day was unscheduled there was no way it would run over, 'impossible' is how he put it. George said that everyone would understand he had plans, that this was important to him because it was so important to me.
Of course, none of that turned out to be true.
So when the second phone call ended I was left gasping an explanation to Jenny as tears spilled from me until my eyes stung. She had wiped them away and encouraged me to make the best of it. Assuring me that with, or without, George everything was going to be okay. That I didn't need him to make this a success because look how far I'd come already without his presence. After all, this wasn't his achievement, it's mine!
I did all of this.
So when ten minutes later a huge bunch of Roses with my name and 'I'm sorry - G' scribbled on I had tucked them in the corner of the room and shook it all off. It wasn't like he forgot. This wasn't on purpose. He would be here if he could.
We still had tonight.
But everytime I so much as glanced at the direction of the roses a nauseous feeling hit me and I felt my lower lip wobble. I know Jenny noticed it. She kept encouraging me gently at every spare moment, steering me from conversation to conversation with a wide proud smile. I think she knew I needed this, the time to compose myself before George's arrival after floating through the afternoon in his absence.
I'm too giddy to care about George's absence right now. Sure, it's a problem to be targeted at a later date. There's no way George is escaping this.
But for tonight he can. I just want tonight. I want to enjoy this day - fully. I want to have at least one moment with him on this memorable day so I can officially pin it as the best one in recent memory.
"Carla..." the almost disbelieving call of my name pulls me from my thoughts. The envelope contains £300, a light bonus for her work today, and over the last three years. I'm considering it a small raise for her role as emotional support when I needed it most.
"Take it, don't you dare complain about it! Use it to get a cab home and order a pizza." I instruct, pointing the makeup brush in my hand in her direction using my 'boss' voice more than I ever have before. Jenny just grins and squeals before wrapping me up in an excited hug. She giggles into our hug thanking me repeatedly before hopping towards the door.
"Have fun!" She beams before she slips through the doors and locking them behind her, leaving me alone with my makeup and quiet music playing from the radio. I sing along to each song with a smile even finding a bottle of champagne someone had left from the showcase. I pop the cork with a slightly alarmed squeak when the bottle begins to foam from the top with its opening. I'm grinning like an idiot when I pour it into one of the left over glasses from the event taking gentle sips between scrolling on my phone and swiping lipgloss onto my lips.
Ten minutes before George's arrival time I slip into the back and pull on my dress, altered specifically for the night (by me). The blue shimmering material which reminds me of George's eyes the very reason I chose it for tonight. I adjust the shoulder, pulling at the hem until it's even on my body, sitting exactly how it was designed to. A silent hum of excitement leaves me when I see the full outfit in the full length mirror, pride and excitement filling me until I don't know what to do.
I look good and I'm the one that made it happen.
I'll never not get a thrill when I make something that makes someone feel good, much less when it's me. I smoothe the fabric over with my hands once, twice, theee times then reach for the glass of champagne downing it nervously. I love that after all this time the excitement of being with George has never faded. I'm still shaky with nerves and excitement each time we do something like this especially when either of us has put thought into the date.
-
My phone rattles on the table I'm half perched on the edge of. The buzzing is irritating and makes my stomach flip with simultaneous excitement and nerves. I can feel the two sensations battling inside of me as I snatch up the device and slide my finger across the screen. "I was getting nervous here, you better be fighting for a parking spa-"
"Baby," the apologetic call of the name is enough to make my stomach drop. The nerves and excitement leave me. Instead in filled with dream, physically bracing for the verbal equivalent of a punch to leave George's lips. "I'm so sorry Carls,"
It hits. It's heavy and rough.
"I'm just leaving now." Something stings at me, my freehand grasping the edge of the desk as my eyes widen. I repeat the word 'now?!' in disbelieving questioning. He was meant to leave ninety minutes ago, an hour ago at the latest. "Time completely got away from us today and fuck, I was in a meeting. I-I'll be an hour." He stutters knowing just from my gasped question that I'm unimpressed with the decision.
Pathetic tears sting my eyes as I reel myself in from George's apologetic announcement. His every word hits me like a rough upper cut. His 'sorry' didn't make any of it more pleasant to hear.
"We'll miss our booking." I whisper into the speaker. I'm not sure if the thought spoken aloud is for myself or George. The reality that we'd miss our booking was one I'd been coming to terms with over the last fifteen minutes when I'd realised George was late. I just assumed he was stuck in traffic. I thought that we'd be fashionably late, or that at very worst George would be able to bribe our way inside with a £50 slid to the hostess. Worst come to worst we'd slip into the Italian place around the corner, but neither of us would fully care because we'd be together.
This is beyond any of that.
"It'll be fine Carla, look I'm..." I hear the rev of his engine as it comes to life. He really is only leaving now.
"It's gonna be at least an hour and a half until you get here George." I point out, hating the weak shake to my voice when I point out the journey time. It's not even as though he's fifteen or twenty minutes into the drive. George hasn't even left his designated parking space! Our booking at Bob Bob Richard is in fifteen minutes.
"I know, I know." His voice is alarmed and lacking it's usual cool confidence. He knows this is beyond the limit of what is acceptable. Cancelling twice in one day? He must know there's no salvaging this. "Fuck Carls." There's a slam on the line and another string of frustrated quiet curses. I can picture him hitting the steering wheel in the same way he does when he's frustrated after a bad race session. I've never seen him repeat the action outside of the formula one car and I don't know what to do with that knowledge. "I'm sorry."
There's a pause of silence after his apology when I refuse to accept it. Did he really think I would just accept it?
The dread is back in my stomach so thick that it almost makes me lose my balance, or maybe that's just the champagne I've been sipping on whilst restless for his arrival. The sequins of my dress scratch at my mid thigh as I adjust myself from my position on the desk, the heavy wood groaning under the change of pressure. I press my spare hand to my cheek and realise that it's wet. Quiet tears are steaming from me with the complete heartache that George is causing me today.
"This...this isn't working." I admit outloud for the first time, my words are quiet but on my tongue it feels like I've screamed them. It's something that should have been said months ago. George heaves a heavy breath with my loaded sentence. He can't be surprised. It isn't working! Whatever this is it's not working. I've known it for weeks, maybe even months. We can't keep pretending that everything is fine. We can't go on acting like we're not continuously letting eachother down and hurting eachother's feelings. I can't go on with George continuously letting me down and hurting me like this.
George can't be as on edge as he is and think that everything is fine. Up tight and somewhat controlling are two qualities he never used to display. Yet these days, particularly on race weeks, I see them most hours, and I hate it. I hate that parts of him have shifted so drastically because of the pressure he's under. I hate that he so infrequently resembles the person I fell in love with on the Cornwall beaches.
"This part time bullshit isn't what I signed up for, it's not what I deserve G." I add, the anger that's been desperate to spill from me since Monaco rising to the surface with the harsh words. The tears are already spilling from me, I may aswell let it all go.
"Carla don't bloody say that." George pleads, his words are almost begged. "I'm so sorry." He repeats the weak apology for the third time. I wonder if he thinks this is the end? I think with anyone else it would be. I'm almost screaming at myself that it isn't. Maybe it should be.
"I know you're sorry George, but how many times are we going to do this in one week?!" I stress trying my best to dab mt eyes in a way which won't smear mascara all over my face.
"It's one late dinner." George counters in a mumble. I hear his car moving, finally. It doesn't ease the pain I'm feeling at all, only makes my anger flare more.
"It's not!" I snap, my voice rising. I've risen to my feet in my anger my heels clicking against the floor. "Are you serious right now?" The question doesn't get a response from George. It doesn't need one. If he wasn't expecting me to be at least a little bit angry about this he really doesn't know me at all. "It was dinner on Tuesday. It was the showcase today. It's now - three times." I stress, my throat feeling coarse with the strangled words. I'm exhausted having to fight for the bare minimum. "Three times!" I yell, trying to pull something from George, a reaction, a defence, a gasp - nothing comes. "and it hasn't even been seven days." I'm practically sobbing down the phone. George knows that tears are falling from me even if he can't see me.
George heaves a shaky breath that tells me so. He's uncomfortable with my tears, always has been. Today he's the one that's caused them so he'll just have to listen to them.
"I-I've just been really busy Carla. everything is so mental here, sometimes I feel like I'm being pulled in a million different directions and I never know where to go." He explains through stutters. There's a certain weak rip in my heart with his words. "I'm so so sorry. I love you so much Carls, I promise I do." When I don't reply I hear George shift. I can imagine him nervously wiping a hand over his face as he leaves the Mercedes Headquarters. One hand swiping messily over his blue eyes and the other gripping the custom dark grey steering wheel of his Mercedes provided car. The same Mercedes which is tearing us apart; a part of me is sniggering with the irony.
"You never go to me." I weakly point out. My voice is still wobbling and I'm fighting through my desk drawers for tissues. My makeup is sliding from my face with pathetic tears because I can't so much raise my voice at this man without sobbing. It breaks my heart.
"That's not fair." George's voice is pleading. I'm shaking my head. What's not fair is me being left at the bottom of his priorities continually.
"But it's true." I point out. My words are met with silence. "You're being pulled so many places, and at no point do you choose to come to me. I'm at the bottom of the list every single time." George groans almost silently with my words. "I don't deserve that. This." I correct myself still pacing the floor with tissues dabbing the smudged grey areas around my eyes. With each blink of tears more black mascara stains the tissue.
"You don't. And I feel so shit that you would even think you're anywhere close to the bottom of my list of priorities." George counters, quick and polished, it sounds like a PR trained answer and I hate it. "I love you Carla I really do, I swear." I know he loves me, it doesn't mean he prioritises me. That's the problem right now. "You can do better and I know that but I want-I have to be that man for you." My heart thuds with his wording, the quiet begs doing little to soften the sharp edged hurt his actions have made grow inside of me. I don't respond because I don't have a response. In the silence my tears are drying up, my whole being becoming numb to George and this situation.
"We can still do tonight." George says, his voice distant from the Bluetooth car microphone. "I'll not be long, I promise I'm all dressed Carls." The problem is, George's promises don't mean much to me. I've trained myself not to trust them, especially after promising he'd be in attendance this afternoon and this evening.
"I was dressed half an hour ago when you were meant to get here."
"See!" He cheers. My words weren't meant to be a positive thing. I'm the furthest thing from dressed right now, I'm pretty sure my makeup has been wrecked by the landslide of tears and mascara pouring from my eyes. George's triumphant cheer isn't the win he thinks it is. "Look, we'll just be a little late and it'll all be okay." George is rushing now as I sniffle pathetically through shakes of my head.
"I don't want to." The four words leave me as a whisper.
"What?"
"I don't want to." I repeat, firmer in the words. "I don't want to see you or be with you tonight." Somewhere through the sentence I find my confidence the uncertain waver disappearing.
"Baby, don't do this." George's voice cuts through the static of the line. My eyes widen in surprise.
"You shouldn't have done this!" I counter, the words falling from me in a yell. "How dare you!" My voice is accusing and raw. I never imagined I could be so irate over a phone but somehow not having George here, infront of me (like he should be) is inflating my anger and upset more. Being angry at him is so easy. "I'm not taking the blame for this George. This is on you, all you, don't you dare try and turn it on me!" George huffs at my stern words.
"I wasn't I-"
"You were!" The anger is bubbling out of me in well deserved harsh words. George doesn't know what to do.
"Carla." He repeats my name, sounding confused by my attitude. He's soft and puzzled and lacking the knowledge of how to fix this purely because I've hidden how much he hurts me for so long. I can't hide it anymore.
"I'm going to stay at the apartment here tonight." I announce, imagining the plush king size bed in the Soho studio George owns. The flat was maintained now that we had our shared home incase of a late London-based event, or I was stuck at work until late. Sometimes it's even loaned out to friends or family members visiting the city. Now it's just so I don't have to look George in the eye. "Alone." I add before he can assume that he's invited. "I don't...I can't see you." I stutter out, my face still twisted in rage my freehand flexes.
"Carla." George repeats my name for the twentieth time, as if the shocked call could change my mind. His presence would change my mind, but I'm not getting that for at least another hour and a half.
I'd rather not have it at all.
"George if I see you I'm going to scream at you and say something I'll regret because right now I..." I stop myself before I say the thing I'll regret.
I hate him.
I don't. It's just the only thing that I know could ever hurt him the same way his blasé attitude to our life together hurts me. The worst part of this whole thing is that I love George. I love him so much that it makes this whole thing tear me apart. Each time im disregarded I feel the rip in my chest. I love George down to the very core of who he is and he clearly doesn't see that. It's why this all pains me so much. I just want George to feel hurt the same way I am, but I refuse to stoop to that level. The words can't fall from me.
"I don't want to do that." I sob. I hate that after everything I'm still thinking of him, of his feelings. I just can't help it. "I don't want to go, I don't want to see you." I must sound hysterical with the repeated words. The sentence repeated two or three times before George hushes me.
"Okay, okay...it's okay Carls." He soothes. His voice softer. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He apologises over and over, his voice so thick with tears that I know they must be falling from his eyes too. His long eyelashes will be damp and thick. Usually if he were crying I'd be the one to wipe his tears away. Today I don't even want to. "I don't mean to do this to you, I'm sorry." George repeats the apology two or three times. I imagine that if he were here he'd have me in his arms and be pressing soft kisses to my scalp with each repetition. I imagine we'd be swaying softly side to side as he soothes me, his voice growing softer as we cling to eachother for comfort.
But he's not here. He's in that same place he always is when he should be spending time with me.
"I know." I admit, because I do know he doesn't mean any of it. "I know you're sorry G." I sniffle pressing my cool fingers to my tear-swollen eyes and squeezing them shut.
"I-I'll stay at home, you stay at the flat." I nod in agreement if his words, thankful for the space. "But if you change your mind call me, okay?" George asks and I choke out a thankful 'okay'. In the past if this happened I'd have jumped in the shower to wash this all away and be on the phone to him by 9.30. I doubt tonight will be the case. I wish I wasn't so easy to forgive him in the past, maybe it would mean he wouldn't be so quick to forget about me in the present.
"I'll come around first thing and we can work this out." George's words aren't a question, it's an instruction. He's letting me know that whether I like it or not he'll be there in the morning. Then he takes a loud inhale that I can feel rattle in my chest, nerves swelling from him even over the phone line. "We're gonna work this out? Right Carls?" All the confidence is drained from his voice, instead he's quiet and unsure.
I hate the way it makes my fingers tremble.
"Sure." Is all I say before tearing the phone from my ear and ending the call.
———
This week you can catch me tearing it up to Eurovision songs & new Jonas Brothers (if you don't know I LOVE THEM)!
I don't know if I've actually said before now but just so you guys know this is a short story! So...we're almost halfway (already!)
I can't wait!
Especially for the next handful of chapters hehe
Hope you enjoyed
❤️❤️