“I actually just thought you might want to talk,” I said.
She’d been leading me there, hadn’t she? Thatmaybe I do, toowas surely an invitation to ask, even if she didn’t know it. And for all my resolutions, I couldn’t resist. I used to live for moments like these. Proper deep chats, genuine connections…
She swiped a hand through the Xs she’d been drawing in the sand. “I lost someone. But I think I lost myself long before that, really. I’ve spent a great deal of my life waiting for people to give me the life I want, but I realize now that I need to be the one totakeit, actually. By myself, for myself.”
“You’ve not given me many specifics there,” I said, though actually what she’d said had hit me in the chest the same way the guitar music had—I understood the desire to look after yourself more than I’d like her to know.
“You think you deserve them?”
There was a sharpness to that sentence that felt more honest than anything Charlie had said to me so far.
“I guess I’ve not given you much reason to trust me.”
“No.”
“Well. All right. What would you like to know?”
I figured there was no reason I couldn’t give her a few specifics.
“What was your last job, before you came here?” she asked after a moment.
I told her about the pub and gave her a sense of how miserable I’d been there.
“The only upside was my dad was proud,” I said. “My parents drank too much, too. I never saw so much of him as when I could get him a free beer.”
Her expression was serious. She has such an expressive face, all nuance.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. My parents aren’t bad people or anything, they’re just…complicated. We aren’t close anymore. I’m not sure my mum even knows I’m here.”
“Mine doesn’t, either.” She tilted her head as she looked at me. “So we have that in common.”
“And I lost someone,” I said softly. “So, yeah. Rosie got the grieving part right. There’s that, too.”
“That and the bruised soul,” she said.
Itwasall a bit woo-woo for me. But actually, it was a pretty perfect phrase for how I felt. Bruised right down to the core.
Anyway, I’m home now, and tired tonight. I can hear Charlie’s asleep on the other side of the door. I relaxed once I felt her breathing settle. She’s so often awake. I don’t know how she survives the days.
I keep thinking of her saying,By myself, for myself.I told her a little about my past to help her trust me, but it’s made me see her in a new way, too. Between that and the strange moment in the shop this morning, she’s thrown me completely off-balance.
I should be focused on my future—who is this new Charlie Jones, thismeI’m building here?—but I can’t be. I’m too busy wondering who theotherCharlie Jones is.
Good night,
Charlie Jones
Monday August 25th 2025
Shop’s closed, and I told Jones I would be hiking today, and hike I shall!
Hurray!
Feeling a teeny bit nervous, actually.
My plan is to explore the west coast, hitting theapparentlyfamous Pouque Rock for a little solo picnic and then heading home. Only thing is, today has sort of got away from me—have been sorting the “pharmacy corner” at the shop, which contains several drugs I’m not sure we can legally sell—and now it’s a bit late.
