CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
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JAMES
It had been two weeks since Emma went back to Scotland, and even though I spoke to her every single day, I missed her. Her laugh, her voice, her presence, not having them close by made me ache. I told her I would follow after a few days, but work became crazy. It was easier to stay here.
I regretted my decision.
I needed her by my side, and if this loneliness was any hint of how my life would be if she wasn’t around, I didn’t want it.
Initially, the quiet of the empty flat had engulfed me, made me feel peaceful. The past few days though, the walls had closed in on me, making the whole place claustrophobic.
Sighing, I picked up my phone.
“James, what’s up?” Ralph’s sleepy voice answered.
“Nothing.” I sounded despondent even to myself.
“Do you want to come over?”
He didn’t need to ask me twice.
A single photographer waited for me outside the building. He obviously didn’t expect a successful night, as he didn’t have his camera ready; he struggled and cursed as he fiddled with the straps. I ignored him and waited for a taxi to drive past, ready to whistle at any minute.
“James!” the photographer shouted. “What happened to you and Jane?” he asked as a taxi pulled over, the flash of his camera blinding me. I didn’t answer his question. After years in the limelight, I knew that it didn’t matter what I said. My words would always be twisted and made to be something else. Best thing to do was to keep my mouth shut.
Arriving at Ralph’s home, I noticed how quiet and peaceful the street was, perfect for a family. The driver stopped at the end of the road to make it easier for him to turn around. Tipping him enough to buy his wife a nice present, I walked to Ralph’s front door. I gave him a missed call to let him know I was outside, instead of ringing the doorbell and waking up the whole neighbourhood.
“Hey,” Ralph whispered as he opened the door. He looked like he’d just woken up, his hair pointing in different directions, and his pyjamas were all crumpled.
“Hey, man, sorry to wake you up. Nice pyjamas by the way.”
“Thanks,” he answered. I snorted; he must have been still half asleep for him not to notice my sarcasm.
He walked to the family kitchen, opened the fridge, and with robotic movements, poured milk in a pan. Lighting the hob, he then retrieved two mugs from a cupboard. Still without saying a word, he counted as he spooned cocoa powder into the cups, then added the now warm milk before dropping a couple of marshmallows into the two steaming cups. I stood there mesmerised by his movements, entertained that he was making us cocoa.
“Let’s go downstairs,” he said, after handing me one of the mugs.
I followed him down to the basement, still amused. We sat on the couch and he took a sip from his cup.
“Have a sip while it’s warm. It will help you sleep.”
“I can’t believe you wear pyjamas.” This time I hoped he got the hint. I took a drink from my cup, letting the liquid warm my body. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had hot chocolate.
“What else am I meant to wear? Jeans?”
I shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood for me to take the piss out of him, but I couldn’t help it; some things were hard to stop.
“I don’t know, boxers and a vest, shorts. Do you have to button them up to the top?” I said, touching my neck to indicate the top button. He didn’t answer; he just stared at me as he drank.
I let out a laugh. “Sorry, man, I can’t take you seriously. You look like my dad.”
“Shut up, James. For the record, I am a dad.”
“But you’re not old enough to wear old man pyjamas,” I protested; it was just too easy.
“Get to the point, James. What’s wrong?”
“Okay… Dad,” I said, and laughed as he rolled his eyes.
My voice lowered, turning serious. “I need a plan, so I need your help.” I took a big breath and came clean. “You know, I need a plan as to what to do with Emma.”
The words came out jumbled up, not making much sense. But they didn’t make sense in my head either.
He nodded as if he understood, took another sip, and left the cup on the table. “Okay, but you have to promise not to make fun of it,” he ordered, in proper dad mode.
“Pinkie promise,” I said with a mocking grin.
“First of all, I need a favour from you too,” he started, waiting for me to agree. When I nodded, he continued, “It’s Marisa’s birthday, and I want to do something special. Can you help me book a nice restaurant?”
“Of course, man, it’s the least I can do.”
“Cool. Now what I think you should do is book a flight and see her. Asking this kind of question can’t be done over the phone or through text message. So, you have to see her face to face.” He was now pacing around the room.
“What if it’s too soon? If she turns me down?” I didn’t think I could take the rejection.
“It’s a risk you have to take.” He paused. “The best thing would be to contact her flatmate, make sure she’s there when you arrive.”
I agreed to everything he said. The days without Emma had reaffirmed everything I already knew. I wanted—needed—her in my life. I did want one more thing though. “Ralph, can I ask you for one more thing? Once this is all over, can we start my driving lessons, before I move away?”
This was his turn to laugh, and he didn’t stop when I complained.