Lines We Forget

by J. E. Warren

  Her voice sounds even better in person, he thinks after listening to it for days via her voicemail. It gives him small comfort to hear there’s no anger or bitterness in it.

  “Do you think we could go for a walk, that’s if you want to or don’t mind?” she asks between sips from her cup. “Or I can come back later after you’ve finished?”

  Taking off his guitar with such eagerness causes him to knock the tea from his hand. It spills to the pavement and snakes its way under Anna’s boots. She taps out a little splash and laughs.

  “Shit, I’m sorry.” He tries to catch the paper cup from rolling off the curb as the guitar swings under one arm.

  She laughs again and he knows there’ll never be a time when he’s not happy to hear it.

  “Don’t worry about it, silly. There’s plenty more tea left in the world. We’ll grab another on our way to the park.”

  “The park?”

  “Yeah, there’s a park about four roads down.” She pauses. “That’s if you do want to come for a walk.”

  Charlie really does, he’s just not vocalising it. Can’t seem to find the ability to speak when his mind’s a jumble of questions. Trying to find the reason behind Anna’s sudden appearance after such a fraught period of absence.

  He finds the strength to nod instead. Pulls a hat from his back pocket and slips it on. Laying down the guitar, he snaps the case shut and lets the pennies rattle about.

  He needs to tell her how sorry he is for leaving her alone at the party and hope she trusts his explanation for it.

  Careful to keep a respectful distance, he lets Anna set the pace as they tread the street towards the large trees that loom behind office buildings and high rises.

  “You know that I didn’t mean what I said, back in the taxi cab,” she says like a whisper that’s been playing on her mind. “I’m sorry I told you to fuck off. I hate that I did that.”

  “I’m sorry for everything,” he sighs, hoping she believes it.

  She slows down her steps. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you have to be sorry for everything.”

  As they round a corner, a streak of bright sunlight illuminates the way. Charlie stops to shield his eyes and when he finally looks out, she’s close by his side, face against the sunshine, wild hair blowing in the breeze. He marvels at just how beautiful she really is.

  Finally, he remembers how the verse went. Anna’s hand, as it slips into his, magically untangles the mess of forgotten lyrics.

  ***

  Anna

  Scooping up the loose change from the bar, Anna tucks two packets of crisps under her arm as white foam escapes down the pint glass. Quickly she takes a fingerful, lets the bitterness settle on her tongue.

  On her way back towards the roaring fire, she thinks about how glad she is that they never made it to the park or got Charlie another cup of tea. How the heavens opening up was a small blessing, allowing them an excuse to take shelter in a nearby pub instead.

  And she doesn’t even care that the pub’s sign hangs off at the brackets or that the carpets are all sticky. She thinks of it as a typical, cosy London boozer. All peeling Victorian wallpaper and hard wood furniture like the tatty church pew that Charlie’s commandeered for them over by the fire.

  The low hum of conversation between elderly patrons hugging the bar and the music vibrating through the walls brings back memories of the night he got up on stage and sung to her. It was the night she realised that she liked him more than anyone else before.

  Returning to see his scruffy mane of hair and piercing eyes, Anna sighs and hands over his drink.

  “Don’t ask me what these are. I just picked the pump clip with the funniest name and hoped for the best.” She laughs, still soaking up the rogue beer foam from the glass.

  “I hope it’s not a Bishop’s Finger I’m about to drink,” Charlie teases, which lifts her spirits again. She’s really missed that voice of his.

  “Gross. No, I decided upon the one that made me laugh, not want to throw up.”

  “The suspense is killing me. Come on, which one have I ended up with?”

  “Hoptimus Prime.” Anna can’t help but snort. “If I remember correctly it’s a double pale ale or something. Not going to lie, it was the cheapest too.”

  He laughs and she feels like the last five days have been a complete and utter waste of time and energy. Missing out on moments like these.

  “I pushed the boat out too and got us some crisps. I’m afraid it’s the rather unexciting choice of Ready Salted or Salt & Vinegar.”

  “Both excellent choices, thank you.”

  Anna fiddles with a beer mat, and taps her foot against the table. “Thought it was the least I could do after dragging you away from playing only to make you walk miles in the pissing rain.”

  Below the church pew, she can hear the faint sound of Charlie’s scuffed trainers brushing against the back beam, like an offbeat nervous tune, and she wonders if he’s trying to work up the courage to talk about the night at Eddie’s—which is the big pink elephant in the room, still wearing its Happy New Year’s party hat.

  When he clears his throat and pushes back his hair, she knows it’s probably fair they both discuss it, if only to clear the air once and for all.

  “Anna, I know that you don’t want to hear me say this again but I feel that you deserve to hear it, properly. Over and over,” he says quietly. “I am so sorry about what happened. About everything.”

  There’s something oddly appealing about the way he apologises, Anna notes, feeling awful for watching his lips instead of listening, but she can’t help it. The week-old stubble he’s sporting, paired with his wicked blue eyes, steals her concentration and blocks out the rest.

  “I was so worried about you, especially when you got in that cab. I just didn’t know what to do or how to explain that there’s absolutely nothing to worry about because there’s zero, zilch feelings between Jenny and me. Really.”

  The mention of her name pierces through Anna’s inappropriate perving.

  “All she kept talking about was how you’d taken her cheese, something weird like that—I guess because she was real drunk—and about how pretty you were, are.”

  “It’s fine. I get it now. It was just a shock to see you together like that,” she replies. “The cheese thing was just stupid. Long story.”

  “I want you to know that nothing happened. It was only a hug, one that I gave begrudgingly and regretted instantly,” Charlie insists, cheeks flushing.

  “To be honest, you didn’t look like you were much enjoying her screaming into your face, but the timing was just awful and it looked a certain way, from where I stood.”

  “I know, and I fully respect why you left and why you didn’t want to talk.”

  Anna sighs. “We both know I wasn’t exactly grown up about it. I’m sorry for giving you the finger and bolting. I should have at least heard you out.”

  “I wish I could rewind back to that night and do it all differently.”

  “Look, it’s just—I’m not sure how to explain it, but sometimes I let my mind overtake all rationality and assume the worst. It’s not the first time. You’re lucky I haven’t interrogated you about how many girls you’ve slept with!” she jokes, before regretting the latter part.

  Charlie stares at her, and then he clears his throat, takes a sip of beer and says, “Seven.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean you actually had to tell me.”

  “Well, if we’re getting everything out in the open I might as well. I don’t like the thought of you worrying about it, because it’s really not that big a deal.”

  She swallows hard and tries to smile because she knows that his revelation doesn’t actually help, not least because her number’s slightly higher—which is a first.

  “Nine,” she says quickly, eyes back down to focus and catch the condensation from her pint glass.

  “Glad we’ve got that off our chests.” He laughs, brushes his hand across her knee under
the table. They say no more about ex-partners and past bed hopping, and instead make small, idle chat.

  As Charlie talks about how his beer tastes weird and Anna makes another apology for swearing at him, an older gentleman in a flat tweed cap smacks his hand down on the CD selector that’s bolted to one of the corner walls. Both of them jump and roll their eyes as the music he chooses skips all over the place. Another hard smack against the side forces it to get back on track and their once quiet retreat fills with jangly guitars and drumbeats.

  “Great timing.”

  “It’s actually a pretty solid choice. It’s a good song.”

  “I’ve forgotten what we were talking about now.”

  “You were apologising for something you didn’t need to, again,” he tells her, with one finger circling the grainy pattern on the oak table.

  “Oh right, yeah. I’ve been a right prat to not call or give you the chance to explain. That’s why I wanted to come and see you today. Thought you’d probably ignore me after the way I treated you,” she confesses, her voice caught in her throat because it feels so alien to genuinely want to say sorry. It isn’t often that she admits fault or shoulders blame.

  But the truth that Anna has held back from Charlie for his own sake is that it had taken a long lunch break, a bottle of red wine, and Daisy to remind her just how petty and silly she’s been.

  Daisy, it turned out, is the best agony aunt she could have wished for. She isn’t one to mince her words or nod and just agree. Instead she’d been firm and cutting with her advice.

  Their chat consisted mostly of Daisy gulping down wine and rolling her eyes with expert finesse.

  “Did you catch them shagging?” she had asked flatly.

  “No.”

  “Did you catch him snogging her on the terrace?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Has he tried to apologise, call, or text you?”

  “Sort of.”

  “You told me he’s left you voicemails every day, babe.” Daisy had sighed.

  “Okay, fine, he has, but still it doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t change the fact he left me by myself to talk to her.”

  “Whatever. His ex sounds like a dick, Anna. What matters is, do you still like him?”

  “Of course! If I didn’t, why would I even care what he did?”

  “Do you still want to shag him?”

  “What? Wait, you can’t ask me that!”

  “You don’t, then?” Daisy laughed. “You couldn’t care less if you never saw that gorgeous mop of blond hair again? Never got to hear him serenade you again?”

  “I didn’t say that. I mean, I do want to see him, it’s just, well, I’m pissed off.”

  True to form, Daisy didn’t mess around or pull any punches, which Anna is now extremely thankful for.

  After finishing off the wine and listening to her try and justify why she couldn’t bring herself to call him, Daisy had set her straight.

  “Admit it, babe, you really like him, but you enjoy the feeling of being mad at him too because you don’t know how else to deal with it.”

  “I’m mad because I should be mad,” Anna had protested.

  “Nope. Wrong. Let me tell you something—if I did this to every guy that pissed me off then I’d never get any. You think him hugging some vegan twat is the end of the world? Well, it’s not. Trust me when I say Charlie’s one of the good guys, Anna. Be happy with that and don’t make the poor guy’s life a misery just because you want to stew on it for a bit longer, make him jump through hoops. Plus, he is really easy on the eye and has a ton of fit mates so that’s another excellent reason to keep him around!”

  Anna didn’t often get tongue-tied but Daisy had managed to render her speechless. It took another glass of wine for it to all sink in, but when it did, it came with the heavy and brutal realisation that she’d been acting completely unreasonable.

  That and the fact that Daisy is a great mate who she admires and will be eternally indebted to, because now Anna gets to sit and be with him once more. To enjoy his company and the way he looks up at her like no one else ever has.

  “I’m sorry, Charlie.”

  “Please, stop apologising. I fear we’re going to go round in circles like this when it’s me who has everything to be sorry for,” he says with a small laugh, jolting her away from staring at him again, lost in thought.

  “Forgive and forget?” she offers.

  Charlie leans towards her and smiles. “Deal.”

  An invisible but painful weight lifts from her conscience and she just wants to put his stupidly beautiful face in her hands and kiss him hard.

  “You want to get in a game of pool before they call last orders?” he asks, thwarting her grand plan.

  “Go on then,” she replies as the baby pool table at the other end of the pub becomes free. “I’ll warn you now, though, that I’m really crap at it. The pool cues are always too big and my hand-eye coordination skills are way off.”

  “Should be an easy win, then.”

  “All right, don’t brag just yet, mister! You never heard of beginner’s luck?” Anna teases, carrying over their belongings to the grassy green felt table.

  Charlie teases her right back because that’s how lucky she is, she thinks—to have someone to match her snark and wit without hesitation.

  “Have you never heard of being a student before? I must have spent most of my University loan brushing up on my pool skills. In between copious amounts of drinking, of course.”

  When he fishes for a fifty pence piece and slots it into the machine, she grabs the rack and colourful balls. Attempts to line them all properly, but gives up when he tells her that there’s at least four missing.

  Still, they make an effort to play, careful not to jab the cues into the walls or each other, which proves difficult, as space on either side of the table is severely limited.

  Charlie looks like he’s going to keel over and die of laughter when she almost smashes her drink off the side shelf to completely miss her first shot.

  “Remember who’s holding the cue right now…” she says, pretending to poke him in the bum, secretly enjoying the view of him bent over the table to line up his own impossible shot.

  She realises that she’s never going to get any better at the game when her opponent makes eyes at her over the table. Has to remind herself that there are other people in the pub with them as the thought of pinning him against the wall to kiss his neck becomes too much.

  After a particularly disastrous shot, he offers her some help and advice. Naturally she messes up in spite of his friendly tip to aim for the centre of the ball.

  She can’t take him seriously though, not when he’s right behind her, chest heavy against her back and arms over hers, sharing the cue. Seven odd days without a glimpse of Charlie has hindered her ability to think straight.

  “Are you trying to aim for the door?” he jokes when she still can’t hit the damn thing. He stops laughing when she whacks the ball like a mad woman and sends it flying off the green felt, straight into his groin.

  “Shit, I’m sorry! Here, let me come over and rub it better.”

  The blush escaping from his cheeks lets her know that she hasn’t lost her effect on him, even if she is much too loud and brash and crude for her own good.

  “You’re actually crazy,” he says, potting the black. “But I love it.”

  Dizzy with the glow of being back in his company, Anna suggests they stay for one more drink, which turns into two and then three, until the barman rings the bell on them and politely requests they leave.

  ***

  Out on the street, the drizzle and bitter chill keep them from walking all the way back, so Charlie offers to catch the Tube with her, because he’s a gentleman. With warm hands and a cute bum.

  The ride back is quick and fun as they stop to applaud a lone busker by the ticket barriers. He plays them a speedy version of “Tiny Dancer” in exchange for loose change and Charlie spins her by the tip of h
er finger like a tipsy ballerina until she can’t see straight.

  Up on the stairs, he lifts her over the last step and detours through the station.

  “We need to go the other way. You can’t get out of the side entrance at this time of night,” Anna says, pointing to the large iron clock above them. All four sides show that it’s incredibly late, close to midnight.

  He laughs, stops her by putting his hands gently on her shoulders. “I know.”

  “The gates over there are locked now, we have to go all the way around—” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. She doesn’t even get the chance to realise what’s right in front of her until his lips are pressed to hers.

  One of his hands cups the side of her face as the other brushes away her hair. Again he kisses her. Soft and hard. Then all at once. Anna thinks that she might have left her feet somewhere because she can’t feel the once-solid ground beneath her.

  As Charlie’s mouth gently nibbles her bottom lip, she tastes hops and salt—both curiously delicious and oddly moreish. It reminds her of their first kiss, sparked by champagne and lust.

  “Happy Friday, Anna,” he whispers, in sync with the clock chime as it strikes twelve. “I know it’s not quite the same as wishing you a Happy New Year, but I do love you.”

  And for the second time, a strange but intriguing thing happens. Anna is once again left utterly and wonderfully speechless.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlie

  February 14th 2009

  Dusting the top of the strawberry cheesecake, unable to hold the sieve and packet steady, Charlie gives up and realises that he’s maybe bitten off more than he can chew.

  The squash still needs squashing and he’s not even sure how to turn plain rice into a creamy risotto as per the picture in the recipe book. A smug-looking Jamie Oliver instructs him to add more garlic and even more peppers, red shiny onions instead of the type he’s got, and it’s exhausting.