NOW.
LÉO.
Tuesdays are our new Thursdays. We may not be in college anymore, but we like to keep up with our silly traditions. Which is how I find myself at the counter in a not-so-crowded pub on a Tuesday night—sometime after work.
"What can I get you?" The bartender I've never seen before asks me.
"Three beers and a Kir."
The guy behind the counter steps up and gets to work on the drinks as I take in the inside of the bar. Not much has changed since our college days.
The Alehouse looks exactly the same—except that the paint on the wall is now a grayish white instead of an eggshell white, and maybe the seats have changed colors. But the vibe is the same, melancholy now seeping through me as my eyes land on the corner we used to sit.
"There you go," the bartender says, pulling me out of my reverie.
I fish in for my debit card, flip it with my fingers and set it above the no-contact designated area. The machine beeps, the guy offers me a smile. I shove the card back to where it comes from, and pick up the tray our drinks sit on.
The warm spring breeze wraps me in its embrace as I step out on the terrace and find the table my friends are sitting around—only now they're huddled together on a side. I frown and come to halt, noticing the phone Lily is holding before the three of them. I take a deep breath and move forward, steering clear of the camera as I set each of their drinks down in front of them just as the bartender would have done.
Her voice hits me like a raging storm. Unforgiving and strong, unyielding. It sounds every bit like her—the cool tones, the way her voice picks up when she ends a sentence as if she's asking a question.
I sit down and close my eyes, imagining Charlie on the other side of that phone. Picturing her here with us, as she should be, with a smile on her face and a light shimmering in her eyes that I've craved to see for so long.
And yet, there are things I can't quite place now: is she happy, wherever she might be? Does she look like herself still, or has she made drastic changes to her appearance? What would it feel like to see her again?
I haven't allowed myself to check her instagram profile since she left. I tried, but chickened out at the last second, just as I was about to click on her profile. It's as if it felt wrong and at the same time, I had never wanted something so badly. But I needed to put it all in the past, even though I never could.
When the weight in my chest crushes my lungs, I stop thinking about her altogether. She wouldn't want me to anyway.
Still, as I keep my eyes closed and listen carefully to her every word, I wish for the call to never end. I want to hear her voice, every minute of every day.
"I've got my plane tickets," she says, and I can hear her smile. "I'm all set, just need to pack."
"OK, travel safely," Lily smiles. "Send a text when you're there."
Lily cuts the call too soon, and I find myself in an instant withdrawal, focused on the beer inside my glass that has transformed into a half-pint by now.
I can feel their eyes on me, and the silence that follows is so loud I might just go deaf. I know they're looking for any sign of my being annoyed by the call, but I'm not.
"What?" I bark.
"Nothing," Lily hesitates. "Are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
I hold my pint to my lips and drink, thinking of the way nothing has ever felt quite the same since Charlie left. Thinking of the way nothing has felt the same ever since we fucked up anyway.
"I know you won't talk about her, or what happened—"
"When is she getting here?" I ask her.
"Friday."
I nod. I turn my glass in my hands. Friday couldn't be far enough—but for as much as I'd love to see her again, I can't.
"You know you should be here when she gets back," Lily sets a hand on my arm.
"I don't think you understand."
"Tell us then."
The familiar burn in my eyes is settling, and I hate that I get so worked up over this three years later. I should have turned the page by now. But I can't. And the tears prickling my eyes won't fade away.
"She won't want to see me," I say without looking at them.
"What if she wants to?" Gabriel chimes in, wrecking me all over again.
"I know she won't."
"Why don't you let Charlie speak for herself?" Teddy asks.
I look up from my drink and find three pair of eyes set on me, and for all their pity and good-hearted words, I catch a glimpse of something else.
Hope.
In their eyes, Charlie is ready to face them and this life again—meaning she's ready to face me. But I know she isn't, or else she would have reached out.
And their hope, however fickle it might be, makes my blood boil in my veins.
Memories of our last hour together flash before my eyes in a fleeting second, and my hopes are crushed instantly. She won't want to see me, that much is clear.
But why can't I shake the feeling of wanting to see her again then, even though I know she won't let me?
"Did you see her?" I ask them. "The day she left."
They shake their heads all at once, looking like puppets in one of these terrifying muppet shows they do for kids. Of course they've not seen her, she wouldn't have wanted that for them, to see her in the state she was in.
"We talked on the phone," Teddy says.
"I saw her. Trust me, there is a reason as to why she left in the first place, and I think any of us would have done the same thing if we'd been played the way she'd been."
"Did you, though? Play her?"
I try and remember what it was like to be with her then. It feels like being punched in the guts over again. For whatever reason, I can't seem to remember. I know some details, I remember things that have no relevance, but I can't remember why or how we fucked up. I just know that somewhere along the way, I loved her enough to be willing to face this truth and go after her. But she had a foot out the door.
"Yes, no. I don't know," I stutter, unsure of myself. "All I know is that Charlie left that day, and she's never coming back to me. She might be around, but she won't allow me back in. And I don't want to make her uncomfortable. So it'd be better for everyone if I just stayed home for the weekend, and maybe hopped out of town."
They're looking at me, expectation written all over their faces and I know they want to know more. But in three years, I've never been able to talk about it. Not to them, not to my parents, not to a fucking shrink. There is a veil wrapping this whole aspect of my life, and it only gets heavier with time.
Soon enough, there'll be nothing to remember.
"Léo, you should come." Lily leans in towards me. "You both are different people now. You've changed, you've grown. If there is anything that can't be, it's the both of you staying apart. You know it."
"I was a fucking wreck."
"I know." She squeezes my arm. "I know, I remember. Which is why I think it'd be better if you'd just suck it up and be the man I know you are. And own it. Wouldn't it be the most beautiful thing to have her back into your life after all of this?"
"Yeah," I breathe.
"Then don't be a prick and sit on the chance to live the story you were always meant to live. You deserve it."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that this could have happened before, but it didn't. This time is the time for you to make it right."
"Right person, wrong time?" I ask her, raising a brow.
Lily does not answer. Not with her voice anyway. But I can see it in her eyes, the certainty of her words, the weight of it all. The unspoken truth between the two of us that this was more than a fight and that I want nothing more but to fix it.
"Whatever," I say. "If it all goes down south, I'll blame you for it."
"OK," she laughs. "You can blame me."
The three of them laugh it off as if this is a comment made to be funny. But it isn't. However, I am grateful for the opening it gives them to go on ahead with a new discussion I don't really care to be a part of.
Right person, wrong time.
This is one of the few things that got me going through these past three years, with little hope of finding my way back to her again.
I think of all the text messages sitting in my drafts that I've never had the courage to send, now burning through my phone. But every time I tried, all I could see was the pain in her eyes and this wrecking misery clawing at my own heart.
Truth is, I'm a coward. And no one knows but her.
Would it be any different now, having her around? Would it feel any different, knowing I could finally set things right?
Charlie thinks I'm a coward, but she wasn't there when I tried to make it work. She was there, but she was gone inside her head—so far gone that she had a foot out the fucking door and wouldn't listen.
Maybe if it weren't for me, she wouldn't have left. I can lie to myself and say it to make me feel better, but I know the truth. And it'd wrecked me as much as it had her.
And maybe everything that has happened is on me. Maybe some of it is on her. I don't know who is to blame for it. But whatever the hell happened has happened, and I can't do a fucking thing to change it now. Unless...
Lily might be right. This time is the time I make it right. Charlie will be here, and it feels as if the fates had it in their plan all along. Maybe this is the chance for me to undo the three years of wrong I've done her—Hell, the lifetime of mistakes I've committed when it comes to Charlie Jones.
Yes, this is the time for me to make up for the three years lost, and as much as I despise her for it, Lily is right. If there is one chance for me to have everything I've ever wanted with Charlie, I have to take it.
It would be a fucking gift brought down on me to have her back into my life, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure it works.