Lines We Forget

by J. E. Warren

  When staring at his guitar fails lift the melancholy mood that hangs heavy over him like a wet blanket, and when his fingers don’t seem to work right without Anna there to fill the spaces between, he decides to take a walk, clear his mind.

  Holding his crummy old phone tight as he heads for the riverbank, he realises that his most valued possession now isn’t the guitar slung over his shoulder but something held together by bits of plastic, lose screws that could be torn apart or broken easily—his only hope of keeping a part of her close, for when she calls, as promised, every day.

  With the wind picking up to chill the late summer’s evening, Charlie settles on the concrete embankment, like he did so many, many months before to kiss Anna for the first time. He watches the sky the way he would do if he were busking and treats it as an audience so bitter loneliness doesn’t sink in too soon.

  And for all London’s faults, for all the reasons it drove her away, it can still be beautiful. Especially as the sun sets, lighting up the river like it were on fire.

  Charlie keeps on wishing she were by his side, annoyance creeping in with every passing minute, consuming any optimism left.

  If only her heart didn’t belong to some generic seaside town a million miles away, he thinks. Almost sends a message to beg her to come back, but he doesn’t get very far. All he wants is a way to express that he’s got no idea what to do now, or how to occupy his thoughts, when she’s the only thing burning in his mind.

  And as he watches the sunset, he wonders if she’s fallen asleep on the train yet or if she can’t because she’s too busy thinking of him too.

  He imagines Anna resting her head against the window, watching the landscape roll by, snacking on chocolate buttons and crisps as she often does. Charlie worries that she might not have charged her phone and that she might not be able to call him once she arrives to let him know she made it.

  He wonders if she still thinks it’s the right choice to have left. If her heart feels full again to be close to the coast, and if her head finally feels at peace, cleared by the salt air.

  It isn’t typically in his nature to entertain such bitter thoughts but he’s out of luck and out of reasons to feel fine about being alone. Again. Not quite sure how Anna has managed to escape being stuck in a rut only for him to fall back into one—destined to dwell in it for any number of days, weeks, or months until she decides if it’s just a temporary fix like she’d promised.

  Really though, if there were one thing Charlie has come to learn about Anna, it’s that she doesn’t like to be proven wrong. It seems pretty obvious even to a lovesick fool that she will make it last as long as she can, even if it doesn’t feel right.

  When a young couple walk by hand in hand to stand by the river and marvel at the sky’s colourful show, he feels the bitterness swell with frustration. He wants to warn them that being on the cusp of love comes with a whole mess of horrible consequences. How all good things have to come to an end, even if it feels like love could keep them alive and well.

  And as he fumbles away at the copper strings on his guitar and tries to sing, he feels bereft. Because with every minute that passes, he misses her more than he ever imagined possible.

  Misses her smile as flashes of their past play back in his memory. Misses the loss of her warmth when fantasies of their future take aim and stab in his gut.

  The absence of Anna consumes every bar and every rhyme that he sings out. Using the simple but cutting words to act as a cautionary serenade to all the lovers that pass by, to let them know.

  That love can be torn apart just as easily as it is made.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Anna

  November 22nd 2009

  Tucking a leg in under the duvet cover, Anna sighs and continues to listen as Charlie’s heart beats fast, rising and falling deep in his chest.

  She wonders if she’ll ever tire of the post-sex, sweaty delirium that comes from spending weeks apart, if all their overdue under-the-sheet reunions will continue to be just as satisfying. If the appeal of them will ever start to wear thin.

  Anna’s sleepy eyes drift to the four corners of his bedroom, ears taking in the soft sounds of his favourite folk artist that’s been the soundtrack to their afternoon delight. She lingers on his flannel shirts hung up on the wooden hook to the back of his door, and his guitar propped up against the window.

  A lump forms in her throat at the thought of having to soon pack her travel bag and slip on a thick jumper. Leave the warmth and familiar comfort of his arms to trudge back to the station.

  The routine of leaving behind one home for another hadn’t gotten any easier despite her initial optimism that the first couple of months would settle any doubt about long distances. Squash the myths she’d heard, read, and been warned about.

  Anna’s knows she’ll get teary eyed when Charlie kisses her forehead and whispers goodbye for now. That he’ll wait until she’s sat on the train to leave a voicemail to tell her he misses her already, and how the weekend went by too fast—how he’s sorry too for the petty argument the night before.

  He’ll wish it had never happened and will promise that next time it’ll all be sunshine and rainbows, instead of shouting matches about what to do or where to go. That he’ll do better to make the most out of the forty-eight hours together.

  The train will roll down the tracks and she’ll regret calling him an arsehole and the hour-long sulk in the bathroom when the decision of where to get dinner and which pub to visit got much too heated. She’ll stew too on the undeniable fact that she’s been up to see him more times than he can afford to come and see her. That he always uses the same old excuse about never having enough money or the patience to endure five hours in a musty old train carriage.

  All of it is just fuel for an argument brewing for another time—possibly building for a late night mid-week phone call when silence seeps into the gaps once filled with excitement to hear each other’s voice.

  There is no denying that Charlie still takes her breath away, but he also has a knack of firing up parts of her that are prone to act irrational and temperamental. Time apart has made them twist and distort, flare up, and Anna doesn’t quite know how to deal with the issues that long distance brings to simmer up on the surface.

  Each passing week feels like a never-ending battle between remaining cool and calm, patient and positive, and falling into deep pools of doubt, jealously, and fear to wonder about just what Charlie does with all his free time when she isn’t there.

  She tries hard to keep such feelings at arm’s length but they never stay away for long, ready each time to hitch a ride with her from the coast back up to the Big Smoke to wreak havoc with the sparse moments they get to spend together again.

  The only time negative thoughts keep away are when they can’t wait to tear off their clothes and find common ground in the suppressed feelings and frustration at not being able to connect as much as before. It’s how Sunday evenings are spent, counting down the hours and minutes until they have to untangle from heated sheets and each other.

  As she wonders if she’s got enough energy to prise herself away from his embrace, and as she stirs, Charlie strokes her hair and says, “Stay another day, just till Monday afternoon.”

  “You know I wish I could, but—” He cuts her off by planting small kisses on her cheek.

  “We can stay in bed or go feed the swans in the park. Maybe go to some museums. You do keep saying you want us to do more with the time we have together, thought you might just want to stay here with me for a bit longer.”

  Anna sighs. “I’d love that, really I would, but you know I’ve got work tomorrow. It’s also one of the veterinary nurse’s birthdays and I’ve promised her I’ll go out for drinks to celebrate.”

  “Okay.” Charlie’s body stiffens and he turns his head away. “Didn’t you go out last week for drinks?”

  “That wasn’t for her birthday.”

  “You seem to go out for a lot of drinks these days
,” he replies, and she knows that he’s probably thinking about the unflattering photos of her being slightly tipsy that Kelly, one of the other nurses, had taken. Charlie didn’t seem happy about finding them on her Facebook page—not least because it was all new and daunting to him. She now regrets setting up a profile for him so they could keep in touch when phone calls couldn’t be made because all it has done was breed paranoia. Not that he uses it much, or sends many messages.

  He isn’t one for modern technology, doesn’t understand the point of it. Unfortunately the one time he did decide to log on just had to coincide with the blurry photo of her and an old male school friend who’d sidled up to her in the pub booth without direct permission, which had just been the catalyst for yet another drawn out argument about trust.

  “It’s just drinks. I haven’t been there two months yet and I want to make a good impression, keep friendly,” Anna says. “I’m saving up as much money as I can so I can come back here too. So we can be together properly.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “And I’ll keep saying it because I am. Charlie, I really am trying my best, okay? Going for drinks with work colleagues shouldn’t be a big deal.”

  “If you say so. Just sounds like it’s more important to you,” he mumbles back.

  “Please don’t ruin the last couple of hours left. I said I wish I could stay an extra day, but honestly I can’t. Don’t make me feel shittier about that.”

  Charlie shrugs again, continues to look away. “Fine. Maybe some other time, then.”

  “We’ll arrange something soon. I’ll take time off before Christmas and we can do it all. Whatever you want.”

  “You said that last time.”

  Anna’s not sure why he’s acting like she’s purposefully being difficult. Especially when the reality of it is that she is working damn hard so she can keep coming back to visit him. She hates how he acts as if she isn’t bothered about being apart, because she really is. She misses him more than he’ll ever realise.

  She has also been trying to masterfully juggle life back home, new friendships and old friendships like Daisy’s that she has of late been so poorly neglectful of. Not that Charlie seems to care at all or to try and even begin to understand.

  “Fine.” He lifts his legs up and twists to sit on the side of the bed. She watches as he stands and walks towards the door, still naked, hair ruffled and wild. “Would just be nice if I actually believed you.”

  “You’re making this into something it doesn’t need to be.”

  “It’s fine.”

  She winces, clenches her fists below the covers. “Sure, really feels like it.”

  “Just promise me I won’t be subjected to more photos of you drunk next to some strange guy tomorrow.” It’s a painful dig but she doesn’t take the bait. She knows he’s spoiling for her to say something in retaliation, so she changes the subject.

  “We’ve still got an hour or two left, we can stay in bed for a bit longer,” she suggests when he turns the door handle, a cold chill escaping into the room. “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It’s just a question.” Anna breathes out, breathes in again to stay calm and not get into a back and forth verbal tennis match. “You seem quite eager to leave, that’s all.”

  “So do you,” he says, sounding childish.

  “Charlie, please. Let’s not do this again.”

  “I’m not. I’m going to put the kettle on and take a shower.” The way he mumbles, low and quiet, tells her that he’s really not happy. At all.

  Pulling the white covers up close to her lips, she growls into the soft fabric so he won’t hear and she thinks about how it’s the type of stupid, silly argument that will last more than just a weekend. How it’ll make the following nights alone harder to get through, and all the apologies, grovelling that will surely follow. She prays he’ll let it slide, maybe calm down once he’s out the room.

  But the hum of the hot water kicking in as Charlie slams the glass shower door, and his own frustrated cries echoing back, shut down all of Anna’s naïve hopes that maybe, just maybe, he might.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Charlie

  January 16th 2010

  Waving Lucas off, so very thankful for the peace and quiet of the flat for the rest of the weekend, Charlie prepares the pasta sheets for the lasagne he’s attempting to cook for the first time in an effort to impress Anna once she arrives.

  He knows she’ll be shattered from travelling up from Lyme in the morning and that she’ll very likely be tipsy from her lunch date with Daisy. Still, he hopes that Anna will remember she hasn’t seen him for close to two weeks and that this is to be their last night together before she had to leave all over again.

  As always, she likes to make promises, however big or small, and break them again in the next breath. Charlie can’t quite make sense of how flippant she’s become about their infrequent time together, as if being with him again is always almost an afterthought.

  He’s spent a lot of time thinking about the promise of promises, especially in the weeks that followed on from the disastrous Christmas holidays where he’d divided up his time between his parents’ house in the countryside and Anna’s down by the coast. An ill-timed argument on Christmas Eve down in the beer garden of her local pub had started a chain of petty disagreements and tense situations made all the more strained by her parents’ constant fussing.

  Like most of their fights, it had all kicked off over an unwelcome guest and paranoia.

  Sat in the corner booth of the low-beamed tiny pub on the outskirts of the Cobb with Janice, Tony, and Anna’s sweet but brash grandma, Charlie tried to make conversation and get into the festive spirit. Aware he had to make a real effort and join in with all their customary traditions, like pre-Christmas quizzes and early present giving. All was going well, until a tall guy with big, cartoon-like muscles approached Anna at the bar and seemed intent on not leaving her side all night. Even when Charlie introduced himself in an attempt to put a pause in their long conversation about life in Lyme, the guy still didn’t get the hint.

  And even though he’d witnessed random strangers try to hit on her before, this time it felt different. It niggled away at his rational side, and at the trust he’d held on tight to in the months since she’d left.

  The guy didn’t pay Charlie much attention, but he had it in buckets for Anna, who giggled and laughed along to his atrocious jokes. And Charlie’s heart sank at how she saw nothing wrong with inviting him to come and sit with them. Clearly not fussed about how inappropriate it was for him to sidle up close to her, put his arm round the back of the chair as if staking his claim. She didn’t even object to Charlie having to make do with the small stool at the end of the long table.

  And for the rest of the long night, she sat and chatted, retelling stories about the heydays of her youth to the delight of her parents and to Rick—Shelia’s oldest son, with the tacky neck tattoo and gold chain. A guy who was in the process of doing up his second flat and drove a black BMW, owned his own building supply company and holidayed five times a year. There really was no way Charlie could compete with that.

  Still, he’d kept up with the cheery mood, fake smiles, and laughter, all the while wondering if Anna even cared that he’d made the effort and long drive down from his parents’ just to be able to spend Christmas with her, their first together.

  He’d never felt like the jealous type, but he suspected it wouldn’t be long before that changed too. Because every time Anna would post something about a night out with her work colleagues or old school friends on Facebook—something he utterly resented—he’d wish to be there, if only to know what was really going on behind the scenes of blurry drunken photos. All of them bred paranoia and tension because however hard he tried to get on with his own day to day life, Charlie couldn’t change the fact that she was out there, often having fun with a bottle of wine, whilst he remained at home, rejected. />
  When Anna won’t return his missed calls, he plans in activities of his own to have something to look forward to, even if it is only an open mic night at his local or a poker game at Eddie’s. However, no matter how hard he tries, all thoughts eventually lead back to her.

  Constantly wondering what she does with her free time when she isn’t here to speak to, to hold, or to kiss.

  It’s the main reason why he’s spent most of his Saturday in the local supermarket, picking up essentials and candles, Anna’s favourite sugary treats and a smart tablecloth. It’s why he’s stuck in a tiny kitchen trying to fathom a way to make lasagne less bland and sloppy looking.

  She still isn’t returning his calls, nor has she given him a rough indication of when she’ll be round, and it’s well and truly starting to grate.

  As Charlie tends to the oven to set it to the right temperature, he thinks about all the worrisome questions that whirl in my mind, in his veins. Because something feels off, and it isn’t just the change in the seasons, how cold and dark nights always make it feel less bearable to be apart.

  It’s something else entirely and it hurts to admit to it. That maybe he’s been naïve to believe it might just work out or continue on like before. That Anna might finally come to realise that all the promises she’s made need to be fulfilled. He really can’t stand the uncertainty of her indecisions and all the off-the-cuff remarks about just staying for “another couple of months.” He’d felt sick during the New Year’s Eve’s toast round Anna’s parent’s dinner table with neighbours and friends. Where Janice had raised her glass to ring in a special New Year, thankful for having her daughter back.

  When he overheard her talk later on about the possibility of her only daughter moving into Rick’s newly renovated flat down the road, his stomach turned. Because sweet, well-meaning Janice thought Anna might not want to remain under her parents’ roof forever, and she should have her own place, with a friendly landlord. One with stupid, shit tattoos and an unhealthy interest in her.