Lines We Forget

by J. E. Warren

  “Wow, just a handshake? That’s very formal. Don’t I get a hug?” She’s laughing but he feels like an idiot, believes he’s blown it, until Anna rises on her toes and puts her arms tight round him. Her tiny figure pressed against his body and her cold nose tucked close to his neck. Unflinching, lost in the moment.

  Charlie wants to hold on to her forever and breathe in the sweet, potent scent of perfume. Hopes it will find its way deep into the fabric of his jacket so he can feel like a part of her is still with him even after she leaves.

  And as she allows him to gently rest a hand on the small of her back with a soft sigh, he hopes that Anna can it feel it too, that she realises just what she’s kickstarted.

  To know and to really feel the electrifying spark that has once again ignited deep within his heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Anna

  December 4th 2010

  Eyeing up the open mic poster stuck to the bar’s corkboard with poor Eddie’s name printed on it like an afterthought, Anna patiently waits with a gin and tonic in hand for Charlie to turn up.

  It’s a miracle she’s actually early for once after stopping to gossip about the night ahead with Molly at work, which left her little time to catch a bus and meet him at some tiny side street bar across town.

  Anna tries to settle the hard beating in her chest that’s not stopped all day. Giddy in anticipation to see him once more, even though it has been less than a week since they spent the day together walking round Hampstead Heath, feeding the ducks and tiptoeing the line of casual, rekindled friendship.

  Not that she minds. She enjoys all the moments she can steal away with him, to admire his smile and the way he plays with his hair every time it falls into his eyes. She can’t help but let all the feelings she’s held down for so long rise up to the surface because being with Charlie again, in whatever capacity is something to cherish.

  It all seems to be slotting slowly into place and that’s fine by her. She’s content for the most part, happy in her working life and all that she is accomplishing. Proud to be independent and to be making new friends, like Molly who has become a wonderful and witty accomplice to spend the mass of pre-Christmas parties and subsequent prosecco hangovers with.

  And the once crazy, big city she had feared might not welcome her back has surprised her too with its eagerness to embrace and show her it’s bright lights, and never ending opportunities. Slotting effortlessly back into her almost complete puzzle, a piece that has been missing but one she’s found and come to love again.

  Which makes Anna realise that she can’t pretend forever that she and Charlie can just remain friends and nothing more. It keeps her up wondering late at night if the friendship they have been trying back on for size could work with an extra layer. If the love they once had for each other could fit over it again comfortably.

  She hopes that it can and that he feels the same, even if she is worrying that she’s reading too much into the situation. Perhaps bordering on being too optimistic, because even though Charlie hadn’t declined any of her hugs or small tokens of affection in the time spent together on days off and at weekends, he hasn’t really made it obvious that he wants her back.

  They’ve both coasted along without discussing any of it. Always making up for lost time or in her case, worrying about the fear of mentioning anything that might have the potential to knock them off balance and rock the boat. As far as reconciliations went, she thinks it has been quite simple apart from the mass of mixed, heightened feelings and worry and uncertainty, and the growing fear that Charlie just might not be interested in giving it another go. Maybe unaware that it’s even a possibility.

  Which is why when she catches him and Eddie stumbling through the door, guitar cases and bags in hand, she knows she’s got to do something about it. Before it’s too late and the pounding in her chest kills her.

  Not least because Charlie, all messy hair and flushed cheeks from the frosty chill currently battering the city, looks breathtakingly lush. Heading at a fast pace straight for her.

  “Hey, Anna,” he says, propping up a case by her stool. He gives her a gentle squeeze on the arm, which makes her hopes drop a little. Expecting a more affectionate greeting or a hug, anything other than that.

  “Hey, you.”

  Eddie breathlessly trundles up to join Charlie’s side, and even though she’s sure he must be aware she’s back in town he still gives her a look of surprise as she leans her head back to say hi.

  “Uh…hi. How’s it going?” he mumbles back.

  “Good, thanks. You?”

  “Good, yeah.”

  She can tell Eddie’s not really in the mood for chitchat, and so she turns her body and attention round to Charlie, who looks down at her as he waits for a drink.

  “I like your dress,” he says, pointing to the tiny black pattern dotted all over it.

  She mockingly fans out the fabric of the tea dress she picked up months ago at Spitalfields Market to tell him with a grin, “Why thank you. It’s got cats on it, if you couldn’t tell. My friend Molly calls it the pussy dress.”

  Eddie almost chokes and his eyes go wide, like he doesn’t have the ability to blink properly, as Charlie bows his head and quietly laughs into his hand. Giving her a look that once meant “Oh dear, Anna, what are you like?”

  She shoots him back a wry smile and carries on to the bottom of her gin, finishing it just as he places his palms down on the bar top to order.

  “What’s your poison tonight, then?” he asks Eddie whilst trying to catch the attention of the bar staff over the loud music.

  Replying without hesitation, he asks for a double whiskey and coke before adding, “Save it for me, would ya? I’ve got to get set up, sort my gear out. I’m up next.”

  Charlie nods and pats him on the back before Eddie scurries off towards the stage and through a porthole swing door.

  “He’s nervous. Wants to impress so they book him for more gigs,” he explains, his voice low. “I think he also has his eye on one of the barmaids too.”

  She catches his drift and notices a red-haired girl pulling pints behind the bar, her arms covered in colourful tattoos, her bottom lip encased between two silver rings.

  “I see…Seems like a perfect match,” Anna jokes.

  Picking up his pint glass, Charlie pushes over a fresh gin and tonic. “For you. This round’s on me.”

  The familiar flirty tone sets her pulse racing and makes her dress feel tight round her chest. “Thanks. Shall we grab a seat before Eddie makes his grand debut?”

  “Sure. I’ll let you lead the way.”

  She points to a vacant table to the back of the bar, tucked in the corner in dim light with a curved seat that looks cosy enough for only two. She realises it’s quite a sly move on her part but doesn’t care, sure that Eddie will happily perch on a seat at the end if he had to.

  And when they squeeze in to sit, Charlie’s arm brushes up against hers and his hand falls to her thigh. It’s an accident, but she hopes he won’t move it away. Enjoying how it lights a trail of pins and needles further up between her legs.

  “Sorry for being clumsy,” he says, pulling the hand away and shuffling to the side, leaving a gap in the middle, which she desperately wishes to close. When he takes off his jacket and places it down between them, she sighs and knows it’s not going to happen.

  “I like this.” She smiles, eyeing up the dark nylon jacket.

  Charlie shrugs, busy battling with a beer coaster that won’t budge. “Thanks. It’s my grown-up-trying-to-appear-responsible jacket. There’s a ton of pockets, I lose things all the time in them.”

  “Practical and stylish, then,” she teases. “Suits you, although I’m glad to see you’ve still got stocks and shares in flannel shirts.”

  “I own too many not to wear them.”

  It’s true, Anna thinks, how they’re his trademarks. How it’d be weird to see him without one. She’s missed being able to observe and admire him, o
pportunistic perving, because his touch earlier has got her hot under the dress and the feeling isn’t going away anytime soon.

  And as Charlie chats energetically about his busy day at the college and how many guitar strings he’s changed over the course of a week, she can’t help but compare the difference between him and Ollie, so glad to be with him instead.

  Sinking back into the seat, she vividly remembers how Ollie favoured tight-fitting muscle tees and Fred Perry polo shirts over casual, worn-out decade-old shirts and how he couldn’t leave the house without a slick of Brylcreem for his Barnet.

  The simplicity of Charlie, how uncomplicated he is when it comes to appearances and most things in general, leaves Anna with the solid realisation that she’d been an idiot for getting involved so soon with someone like Ollie and she’ll need to rectify it sooner rather than later.

  She makes a mental note to call him tomorrow or send a text message if she can’t work up the nerve to hear his deflated voice when she tells him that they are definitely over and should just remain casual friends, if that.

  “So I did an inventory earlier in the week, and you wouldn’t even believe how careful we have to be loaning all the instruments out, because so much goes missing,” Charlie tells her before pausing as faint cheers build by the stage when Eddie adjusts the microphone. He introduces himself and starts to strum.

  And he plays for what feels like an eternity but is really only four songs that happen to blur into one. Anna tries to keep her attention on him but it’s difficult with Charlie sat by her, fanning the flames that burn between them with every small whisper and coy look. She wonders how long it will be until the lights are back up and she can find the courage to confess her desires, because Eddie is getting too carried away with jamming. Clearly improvising the last few verses, letting the feedback from the amp echo through the room.

  When he finishes on a sharp note, Eddie’s unmistakable deep voice booms through the speakers and so does Charlie’s name. Anna feels his arm go rigid as it slides down next to hers, and she watches his jaw get tense as if he’s been called to sacrifice his first born.

  Eddie, ever the showman, calls his name again. “I know he’s going to hate me for this, but I thought for an encore it would be great to get one of my best friends up here and play us out for the night. For old times’ sake.”

  Anna doesn’t have to look to know that Charlie’s cussing Eddie’s little stunt under his breath, avoiding eager eyes from the audience who peer round to see just who the mystery friend might be.

  “So come up, man, help a guy out.”

  “I think this means he wants you up there, babe,” she whispers, only realising after that she’s called him by an affectionate term steeped in the history of their past, one that might not be appropriate.

  “He’s just pissing about. Ignore it.”

  Playfully nudging his shoulder, she laughs back. “You can hide under the table if you want until he gives up.”

  “Too late.” Charlie sighs, defeated, as Eddie points confidently to where they sit and the room falls silent. Quickly he grabs at her scarf and ducks behind it, and she gives the game away by chuckling loudly at his desperate actions.

  “It’s not an invisibility cloak, silly. You’ve been spotted.”

  “Can’t I just have a drink in peace anymore?”

  “Ah, what a hardship it is to be so wonderfully talented.”

  Charlie groans and he begrudgingly gets up. She finds it funny and endearing how his footing’s a little wobbly, reluctant.

  “Promise me you’ll cover your ears and eyes to avoid witnessing what’s about to happen.”

  Anna grins, tapping his back to give a last minute push. “Never.”

  She watches as he sheepishly weaves his way through tables, as patience wears thin among the crowd and hush turns into muffled chatter when Eddie finally helps him to the stage. There are gasps as he catches his foot on a rogue guitar lead and she has to hold her breath until he manages to take hold of the microphone stand for support.

  “Here you go, mate,” Eddie mumbles, sorting out the cables. He then hands him a dark wood grain guitar.

  She feels her heart in her throat as she sits back to watch nervously for him to start. His eyes find hers when he finally looks up and they appear to still be pleading with her to plot a rescue even though they both know it’s too late. Eddie keeps talking in his ear and she knows he’s asking what he wants to play and more than likely to speed things up and get on with it.

  “Okay. So I usually keep a list of songs in my pocket, believe it or not, in case of times like these,” Charlie jokes. “Well, I have no idea what to do, but I’m wearing the wrong jeans today, so unfortunately I’m going to have to make it up as I go along. Sorry.” His timid voice is just about audible as he attempts to warm up the crowd or maybe release some nerves. Really, she’s not quite sure, but for the most part it seems to work and he gets an attentive reception.

  Just not from a younger woman sat a couple of tables over, who doesn’t seem to register that he’s up there as she carries on talking loudly to a friend, that laughs rudely. Anna feels the protective side of her start to rage as she shoots over a death stare when Charlie notices them too. It causes him to fluff his words and he quietly asks to start again.

  “Oi, come on! Be quiet and have some respect,” Anna calls out. “Some bloody decency.” It sounds like a viper’s hiss but she doesn’t care, and hopes it acts as warning that she’s not joking. Charlie smiles from high up on the makeshift stage with the lights down low as he finishes tuning strings, and she knows he’s grateful, even if she does sound a little unhinged in her tirade.

  “Right, so,” he begins again with a little more gusto. “Eddie here is going to back me up on this one in case I forget the lines or mess up.”

  “So humble, isn’t he?” Eddie chimes in to quiet laughter from a table at the front.

  “I’m going to play something that I think is pretty self-explanatory. I mean, it’s almost Friday, it’s almost the weekend, and well, I guess you can figure out the rest.”

  The anticipation hangs in the space between Charlie and the tables, and Anna feels like her heart might explode at any moment from her own jitters and delight at seeing him back up there, ready to play and steal everyone’s hearts.

  Slowly he strums. “I hope you enjoy it. Sing along if you know the words.”

  With baited breath she watches as he starts to sing, and instantly she finds herself floored. It’s another classic that she’s not heard in years. One that her parents would play out loud in the car, and hum along to. They’d sing back to each other—“Friday, I’m in Love”. A true love song for the ages, they’d called it.

  Charlie continues to sing wonderfully, albeit in between nervous laughter and forgetting some of the lyrics. In such an intimate setting, Anna finds herself muttering, “Oh God, Charlie, what are you doing to me?” because the small crowd starts to whistle along and his passionate delivery of such a beautiful melody gives her a feeling like she’s never experienced before.

  And when he looks dead ahead and meets her gaze, she wonders why her cheeks ache so much before realising she’s been smiling like a lovesick fool the whole time. Head titled to one side, in awe and admiration. Struck by his choice of song, with words like poetry that he belts out so effortlessly as if firing arrows straight at her heart.

  Anna quickly notices that the loud-mouthed woman from before has turned round to see whom he’s singing to, as if he’s shone a spotlight on her just with the beauty of his words. She can’t be sure of it, but she likes to think that the woman’s wishing it were her sat in his line of sight. The lucky muse to such a serenade.

  Not that it really matters, not when Charlie, just five minutes in, captivates the crowd so easily with his modest showmanship. It’s cheesy as hell but she loves it, really. Taken in hook, line, and sinker by the way he shakes his hair about, his goofy, sweet mannerisms endearing when he clearly forgets and stu
mbles to hit a low note. Eventually pulling it together to end on a high.

  All she can do is quietly chuckle as heat rises up from her toes to the top of her head when a round of applause vibrates through the floorboards.

  Deliriously happy with what she’s just heard and witnessed, she decides he is exactly what her heart has always wanted. It doesn’t matter if it takes time to make it right again or what day of the week it is, even if it is a Friday, because she’s never fallen out love.

  Anna still loves Charlie. That she is sure of more than anything, and so with courage and the same intensity he’d shown her only moments before, she resolves to tell him again, once and for all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Charlie

  December 4th 2010

  Giving the door a firm push with the sole of his shoe, Charlie turns the key in the lock and slowly ushers Anna inside with reluctance.

  He worries about switching on the light and having her there for the first time. In his new flat, which he realises as she walks into a pile of letters on the carpet isn’t particularly tidy or somewhere ideal to bring back the girl of all his dreams.

  Still, he fumbles for the switch and hopes that some of the washing has been put away and that the kitchen table is clear and not covered in broken strings, old mugs of tea, or junk.

  “Really sorry about this,” he sighs as Anna’s eyes scan the small kitchen and lounge. “I’m still in the process of sorting everything out. I’ve acquired a lot more junk than I’d realised. Don’t usually have many guests over.”

  “It’s fine, don’t worry. You should see my new room. Now that is a total pigsty.”

  He senses that she’s a bit tipsy, still high on making the most of a Friday night, which she’d insisted on back at the bar once he rejoined her. After she told him breathlessly and giddily how she’d been quite taken aback by his choice of song and performance. How she’d ordered another round of drinks and suggested they continue the night elsewhere, maybe another watering hole or, as it transpired, maybe back at his.