22. Imploding
Chapter twenty-two
Imploding
Charlie
I’ve been lying still like this in my bed for what feels like forever. I feel like death. I can’t open my eyes. If I move, I think I may be sick. No. I will be sick. My eyeballs hurt, like the cord connecting them to my head has been disconnected or is hanging on by a thread. Gritty, like there is sand in there, and that’s even before I work up the courage to open them. My brain is also joining in on this fun little episode. It hurts like hell. Like it’s been squeezed by an iron fist, while someone with a sledgehammer is pounding into it.
I need to piece together what happened for me to be in this state. It’s been a while. I know alcohol was involved. I just don’t remember why I let myself get into this horrible mess.
Backtrack, that’s what I need to do. I need to remember. Do I remember getting home? Thinking hurts my head. No. Where was I last night? What day was it yesterday? Oh…
Friday.
Millie and Jack’s.
Waiting.
Babies.
My imploding life.
Yep, that’s what happened. My life imploded. It was watching everyone else move on, being happy, together, in love, while I can’t move from where I am. Figuratively and literally as of this moment.
I imploded. It all comes rushing back to me. I’m so happy for Millie and Jack, married, kids, a beautiful life. I wanted that for them. I sat and watched as they talked babies with Em and Dan, played with beautiful Daisy, and went forward with their plans, with their lives. While I’m stuck. Frozen and I can’t get past it, not it, him .
I still can’t lift my head off of my pillow as the tears start to fall. I’m sprawled out on my huge crumpled bed, alone, like always. I wake up and still feel for him, every time. And every time he’s not there, my heart plummets. He’s not by my side. Not standing next to me, through the huge life events that have been happening around me over the past year. I can see everyone moving on around me in a blur of activity, while I just can’t get there. Stood still. I can’t move.
I thought I was doing okay. I suppose I’ve had a few buffers with me during the previous Friday night dinners. I've managed on rare occasions to drag either Leon, Cole or Ethan with me to these things, but last night, they had to work. As bad as it sounds, I’ve also avoided a few of the Fridays, making excuses that I have other plans, or work to catch up on. I know Millie sees through the excuses, but she’s gracious enough not to pull me up on it.
Last night I was the only single person in the room, and look what happened. I got shitfaced. I don’t know how I got home, or at what point my memory stopped working. It’s not a great way to deal with my feelings, but at that moment, numbing the pain was better than unloading on Millie and Jack’s news about expecting their first baby together.
Groaning, I try to move again; I think I'm still in my clothes from last night. I can’t be sure, but I feel uncomfortable, and freaking hot.
I don’t want to open my eyes. If I do, reality will kick in, and I'll be forced to get up. I feel like I’ve been in a train crash. My body hurts and my head wants to detonate into a million tiny fragments. Just like the state of my life.
I need to pee and it’s getting painful now. I feel my phone at my fingertips, sighing heavily. I’ve had a bad habit of late. I order stupid stuff when I think of Owen. Being as it’s in bed with me and not on charge on the bedside table, I guess I did something stupid just to add to my humiliation.
My last drunk purchase was a set of garden flamingos, three of them, each one over a metre tall, and as pink as pink can be. I remember buying them, thinking they were the best purchase in the world. Then, receiving them the next day, Layla, who is normally so quiet, couldn’t stop laughing, refusing to let me send them back. She has proudly placed them in the shop along with the hedgehog and fox earrings my parents bought me last time they came to visit.
Thank fuck Layla is opening up the shop today. It’s my day off officially, but I… I still need the distractions.
Since he left twelve months ago; Leon, Cole and Ethan have become like my new brothers—making me miss my actual brothers I’ve not seen for way too long now. Owen’s friends watch out for me, taking me out, and we've had fun. I could have used them last night. Leon would have stopped me drinking so much and cheered me up. Even if they all still see me as with Owen.
Twelve months and I still feel the same as I did the day he left. How crappy is that. It’s like I've lost a piece of me. I still wear the necklace every day, no matter what. Just like he asked me to. The engraving I feel under my fingers reminds me of him, his flames, and how he called me Angel.
“That’s it…” I say with a gravelly voice, encouraging myself. I need to get up and sort myself out. I can’t keep thinking like this. I’ve got some things I need to get done today, as well as some information I need to send over to Simon.
Last week, I hit the jackpot. I found another video, one that could put Mr Summers away for a long time, one that had been floating around the dark web. I dug deep, deeper than I ever managed to before, and I found the source. Tracing it back to a stabbing that happened three years ago, I asked Simon to pull the records for me so I can crossmatch a few of the finer details. This is it though. We have him. Mr Summers, his partial face is on this video. Knife in hand, while he… stabs someone and kills them in cold blood. We should be able to do a face match using the police program, just to show we have a match as it’s only a partial face. I need to know how the case is going and if Simon’s informed anyone yet.
It’s been a while since we were able to move forward after the last witness went missing and was found dead a few weeks later. It was messy. This is why Simon’s kept my involvement a secret so far, but if this goes well, I’ll need to be a little more involved, and he will need to inform the courts I helped.
Peeling my eyes open, I dare to look at my phone, then put it down again. Fuck that. I need food and coffee before I start the dreaded phone dive to see if I bought anything stupid or called anyone last night.
“Millie. I don’t know what to do. How could I? It's tomorrow! I can’t leave.”
Millie’s not said a word, well I've not let her. I’m in a total flipping flap, verbally spewing my thoughts out to my best friend, panicking.
What have I done? Millie’s at work, but I rang her as soon as I looked at my emails on my phone and saw the timer I apparently set last night. Counting down, continually alerting me, and reminding me of the extremely bad decisions I make when I’m drunk.
“Slow down. I have no idea what you are talking about. Start from the beginning.” I can hear the amusement in her voice. “What did you order this time?” she asks.
“I ordered a goddamn holiday, Millie, and not just any holiday, nooo… I booked myself a five-star luxury holiday in Greece for a whole shitting week.” I sound almost hysterical. “And that’s not the worst part. I am meant to leave tomorrow! Oh, and it’s just for one. Me. All on my own. Just me. No one else. Me.” I can’t handle a holiday on my own. I don’t want to be alone with my own thoughts for a week. I’ll break, I’ll crumble, and I won’t be able to put myself back together.
“What’s wrong with having a holiday? I think you need one. The last time you went away was my wedding, and you only stayed a few days. When was the last time you travelled?” Pacing the length of my apartment, I sit and then stand again, heading into my room to look at my wardrobe and then sinking down on the bed.
Covering my eyes with my arm to block out the sun that is streaming through the window, I say, “But on my own? And tomorrow? What about the shop?” There’s so much to organise when you go on holiday. That’s why everyone books in advance. Normally.
“You have Layla to help with the shop. Ivy,” the woman who hires the workshop “is basically a permanent fixture in the shop now. I’ll pitch in. I’m sure Leon will help when he can. I think he has a crush on Layla. It’s cute.”
“I’m not sure you can crush on someone when you’ve barely spoken to them. Anyway, not the point, I can’t just up and leave everything—” Before I can make any more excuses, she interrupts me.
“Yes, you can. I know why you got drunk last night. You need this.” I thought I hid it all so well. I guess not.
“Not even I know why I got drunk last night.” It’s a big fat lie, and she knows it. Standing back up from my bed that’s yet to be made, I walk back out into the living room.
“Yes, you do. I told you that I was pregnant, and you were surrounded by couples and kids. I know you, remember.” She does, she really does. “Think of it as a fresh start. Time to have a fling without your new crew crowding you.” She has a point. “And move on.” Hanging my head, I slump onto the sofa.
“I’m happy for you and Jack, Millie. You know I am.” I don’t want her to think I'm not happy for them. With everything they have been through, they deserve the best type of happiness.
“I know you are, really, I do. But you’re not happy. I know there was something between you and Owen, but you can’t keep living like this. He’s not here.” That was brutal, but they say that about the truth, don’t they? It fucking hurts.
“Thanks, Millie.” My voice is laced with sarcasm.
“You know I only say it out of love, Charlie. You need to do something other than the shop and hanging around with Leon and his crew.”
I hold the necklace he gave me. It’s become a habit. Maybe it is time to change things up a little.
“Fuck… I go on holiday tomorrow,” I say and Millie squeals down the phone.
“Then we need a shopping trip, right? I’m heading to Bruno’s to get us some strong coffee and cake. I’ll come and get you in an hour. Be ready.”
“Make sure yours is decaf. You're carrying a tiny Millie or Jack in that belly,” I add.
“What? Oh crap, well, that’s not fair!” She moans and hangs up.
I have a holiday to get ready for.