If the World Was Ending
Chapter 6
She wasn't coming. He knew that now. He looked at his watch for the numerous time that afternoon.
For awhile he had fooled himself that he had got the time wrong. That she had really meant 3 o'clock and he misunderstood and thought she had meant 2 o'clock. Yet his excuses for her no show were running out, for now it was way past any hour he could pretend he misheard.
He looked around the small café that they had chosen to meet. Somewhere on neutral ground. They both had agreed via text that that was what needed to happen. That they needed to meet in a place which held no history, no memories for either of them. Halfway between him and her. The cafe was busy; but still over the past couple of hours he had received sympathetic looks from the staff who had worked there. However, the longer he sat, the longer those looks turned to annoyance.
He knew eventually he'd outstayed his welcome here. So, Charles, picked up the newspaper that he pretended he had been reading and headed outside.
The sadness hit him like a wave as soon as the fresh air came into his lungs. He had tried not to be too hopeful, but it was easier said than done.
The love of his life. The woman that he had destroyed, his best friend, had reached out and had finally, after years of no communication had contacted him and suggested that they meet.
He found it hard to believe when he first received Molly's text. Unsure just how to answer. He knew he wanted to answer it. He knew he wanted to see her. Yet, he also knew the fears he still had, and he also worried whether he was mentally strong enough to go through it all again.
Her text didn't offer anything but a small chance of hope, that she would see him, listen to him, and maybe forgive him. He wasn't foolish enough to think that this was the grand reconciliation he had never dead hoped would happen. He was realistic, he knew that he had to show his contrition, and explain, and this was the chance he had been waiting for.
Yet now as he walked down the lonely street to pick up the car, he abandoned with excitement hours ago, all those hopes and tiny slivers of something good came crashing down.
Quite simply the afternoon was ruined.
Molly had asked to meet him, but then she had failed to turn up. He couldn't feel anger though, he could only feel total disappointment. Knowing it had been a big gesture from her to even suggest it, and he had expected her to see it through. Yet she hadn't, and it hurt.
Charles made his way eventually into the small lonely flat that he now owned. It was his, it was somewhere he could return to, it was something important in his recovery, to have something that he possessed once more. A home. Yet if he was honest there was no love there, was no attachment. To him it was four walls and somewhere warm and dry. To him nothing had felt like home since Molly had left. He moved slowly around the room trying to find something to do, trying to distract his agitated mind, but it was useless. Everything he did turn back to Molly.
The text shook him out of his daydreaming. He hadn't expected any more contact, almost resigned himself to that when she was a no show. And so, when he looked down at the unfamiliar number that now belong to his ex-wife, he did not wish to read it.
I'm sorry. It began.
He threw his phone down. He couldn't read any more. He knew what the words would say. He didn't need to read them. She had changed her mind.
The text flared up his anger. He reasoned that he did not deserve to be treated like this. He deserved a chance. It was something she hadn't given him, and it was all he hoped that she was going to do.
Spurred in by the injustice of it all he immediately picked up his telephone and dialled a familiar number. He was pulling in a favour. He was using the little resource he had to rectify a problem that had continued for too long.
And so hours later he found himself driving through the gates of the camp where he now knew she lived. His rank, his credentials, and his previous attachment to the camp saw him sail easily through the Gate House and into the residential block.
"You looking for Molly?" A stranger asked. Watching him knock on Molly's door.
Charles swung round and saw a young girl in her bath robe poking her head out of her bedroom door. She looked at him suspiciously.
"Yes." He gave her a flash of his famous grin. The one that was sure to get him what he wanted from any female member of society. "Do you know where she is?"
It worked.
"Yes. She's gone out with a few of her mates. They won't be back for a while." And then the stranger disappeared. The door firmly closed.
He knew what to do, he knew he had to stay. There was no running away from the inevitable now. Molly needed to see that, and he needed to make sure she did. So, he remained outside her bedroom door, on guard, squashed down on his hunches, waiting for her and the hours to pass by quicker.
Eventually he heard her returning from a night of fun. He recognised her laugh immediately, a sound he hadn't heard for many many years, and one that instantly made his heart go flutter and the hairs on his arms to rise in anticipation.
She didn't see him. She was too caught up in the friends she was with and focusing on her tasks. Even from the distance away he could see that she may have had one or two drinks too many throughout the course of the night. He still said nothing, instead he watched her move to the communal kitchen, and he heard the group chatter lessen as each of her friends left for their own rooms. He didn't need to see her; he knew what she would be doing. He knew this Molly still.
Eventually she came out the kitchen, with the expected cup of tea in one hand and toast on a plate in the other. This is what Molly did. She always ended the night with a cup of tea and slices of toast.
Her gaze was focused intently on what she was carrying. More concentration was required because of the alcohol in her system.
As she reached her door she eventually as she precariously balanced her plate on top of the teacup to give her a free hand for her key. It was then she raised her eyes and saw him. The look of surprise was memorable, and the familiar closeness was immediate.
"You're here?" She said with total disbelief. Charles smiled then he nodded his head.
"Hello Molly." He said simply.
"You're bleeding here!" She said again as if to confirm it.
Then she remembered what was doing and attempted to continue to open her room door. She turned to him.
"I've been making tea and toast." She said simply raising the products towards him. "Do you want some?"
He shook his head and couldn't help but smile. Of all the first conversations he thought he would be having with Molly over the years, he never thought the first one he would have would be about tea and toast.
"I could make you some without the Marmite on." She offered "I know you hate the stuff."
She didn't wait though for his answer, stunned by his presence she now moved on auto pilot into her room. Charles naturally followed and gallantly took the plate and mug off Molly and set them down.
He hadn't waited to be invited in. He knew that was a given. He felt embolden by the happy smile on her face.
"I can't believe you're here!" She spoke. Then paused and rushed out. "Look about this afternoon. I'm sorry."
"Why didn't you come?" He asked immediately not wanting to waste any more time. He tried but failed to keep the hurt from his voice. He winced when her registered it.
She stopped stiffly taking off her coat, turn and looked at him confused. She heard it too.
"You know why?" She said. "My text... I told you. Sent it this evening. Didn't you get it?"
Charles shook his head.
"I didn't really read it." He said quietly pulling out his phone to look at it, and it was only then when he saw the entirety of the text.
He looked up at her. Only to find her staring at him. Waiting. Wide eyed and silent.
"Shit I'm sorry." As reading her text made him understand. "Molly are you okay?"
"Yes." She nodded putting a hand to the back of her neck. "A little bit stiff but nothing really. Cars buggered though. Has gone off to the garage."
She flopped sitting down onto the bed and grimaced as she jarred her shoulders. She considered him.
"So, you just thought I stood you up then?" She asked. "You thought I didn't come on purpose!"
He nodded, ashamed that her minor fender bender had been the reason for her no show. Ashamed he hadn't taken the time to read her text. Ashamed because he hadn't given her a chance once again.
He looked around and found a chair only partly covered with clothes and sat down.
She hiccuped and slurped her tea.
"But even still, you came to see me." She said with a mouth full of toast. "Even though you thought I'd stood you up?"
"Yes." He smiled a shy smile and watched her.
She said no more, merely chewed noisily on her toast, and every now and then raised her eyes answering his shy smile with hers.
He could see she was tired, and tipsy, and so once the tea was finished and the toast was gone, he lifted the plate and cup off her lap and placed them on the bed stand. Her eyes more than half closed now.
Now free from her plate she kicked off her shoes and lay firm on the bed. Hugging the pillow to her.
"You came. To see me. You really came?" She mumbled out. Sleep was starting to claim her.
He knew the signs and he knew there would be no talking tonight. The alcohol, and potentially the emotions of the day had caught up with Molly. He knew that within seconds her head hit the pillow she would be asleep.
He stood and gently moved over to pull the duvet up, so it covered her. By the time he had her breathing had slowed and her eyes were tight shut. He was unsure as to what to do. They needed to talk but now wasn't the time. He shifted his weight from his feet and went to move away but was stopped in his tracks. The half asleep, half inebriated Molly reached out and pulled his hand. She held onto it tightly and pulled it in close to her chest knocking him slightly off-balance. He hunched down next to the bed, powerless to do anything at the moment, as she hugged his arm tightly.
"Charles." She mumbled out in her sleep. An unconscious request. "Stay. Please."
That was all, but it was said in such a simple kind reminiscent way. And even though the squatting down by her bed was hurting his legs, he was willing to stay there forever if it meant that he could stay close to Molly once again.
She woke early with a smile on her face; it was difficult not to. The smell of him was there. She knew that before she had even opened her eyes that he had stayed. The soft gentle breathing also reminded her of his presence.
Gently, hopefully, and silently she shifted and then moved her head to open her eyes to look at him. What she saw made her smile even more. He had stayed. Somewhere in her sub conscience she knew she had asked, but she has been unsure that he would. Yet he did.
He had stayed; for her.
She watched his scrunched-up body fitting in one of the soft comfortable chairs of her room. It wasn't big enough to accommodate his big, long body, and it wasn't a pleasant place to spend the night; yet he had. And she smiled gratefully.
She wasn't naive or stupid enough to think that there weren't difficult conversations ahead. She knew that there were, but what mattered was now they had made a start, and they could only move on from here.
He slowly opened his eyes, shifted his stiff body, and moved his head from side to side.
"You stayed?" She simply said as soon as he woke.
He smiled. For the first time in a long time, she has had asked something of him and he had given it to her.
"Yes." He nodded. "I stayed." And then even though he could see the happiness on her face despite he still needed to check. "That was okay wasn't it?"
"Absolutely." She shot back without hesitation.
She started to move in her bed and didn't take her eyes off him. He too stood and started to stretch. Raising his arms above his head she caught glimpse of his stomach and the scar that remain from his first shooting. The sight of it burst the fairytale bubble as she had woken up in. Reality was harsh and it was true, and the pair of them together knew that more than anyone.
"I'm too old to sleep in a chair." He joked with her.
Molly began to move stiffly too and immediately he stopped thinking about himself. "Are you okay! After yesterday?"
She threw her legs out of the bed and smiled at him, rubbing her hand across her head.
"Yeah, I think the rear ender is it the cause of my headache." She smiled at him and realised immediately she wasn't fooling him. Laughing she continued. "Ok. Maybe I had one a few too many last night too."
He laughed. Knowing how her girl's nights out often ended.
"Shots?"
She nodded her head gently.
"Charles." She began. "We need to talk, don't we? That is if you still want to?"
He sat himself down heavily in the chair. His elbows rested on his knees and he held his head.
"I'm here aren't I?" Then he turned his head and looked at her. He needed to be brief. "Yes, we need to talk."
She was just about to continue but he stopped. He stood up again and grabbed his jacket.
"First Dawes." He said with a smile. "We need to get you a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich. So, let's get your arse out of that bed, into the shower, and then maybe we can."
She jumped up and regretted it, but cheerfully managed.
"Sounds like a plan."
"Come on then Dawes." He said reaching out a hand pulling her away from the bed "Get your bloody arse into the shower. I'm not saying that you need one, but I bloody do, and the sooner you have yours, the quicker I can have mine."
They moved around one another gently and with familiarity. He soon left her alone though as she dried her hair and made herself decent.
Left alone and with her thoughts she wondered about it all. How the pain of what he had done still hurt, but the pain at not having him in her life hurt more.
He broke her thoughts as he came back, cautiously opening the door. Carrying two steaming mugs. Placing one down next to her he saw her worried face.
"You ok?" He asked swiftly. Wondering if his Herculean effort at being brave was about to come crashing down his feet.
"Yeah!" She half smiled into her brew watching him sit down on the bed next to her.
"Shall we get out of here? Go find some breakfast? Talk?" He secretly hoped she would agree. "If your head's up to it?"
She eyed him suspiciously.
"My head? Yeah. What about yours though?" And he knew what she meant.
"I think so." He said truthfully. "I want it to be. I want to try. Think we should at least try."
She accepted it for what it was. Maybe they wouldn't find all the answer and solutions straight away, but Charles was right. They at least had to try.