The four of us were sitting on the steps of the production office, watching a rather splendid sunset. The filming was over, they audience were leaving, and we sat enjoying a last cup of tea before everyone went home. We laughed and joked about lines that had gone wrong and other general cock-ups that had happened during the filming. I'd been in the audience, but been placed at the front due to being short, and always hovered somewhere close to James, and soon he'd employed me as personal "holder of things" like scripts or his phone. It had been a long day, and so filled with surreal, emotional and exhausting experiences I felt drunk with tiredness.
"I hope this is a stupid question but I reckon you've had a good day?" Richard asked, peering down at me.
"You have no idea!" I sighed, tired but happy. "It's been insane. But so much fun! I have no idea how to thank James enough for this. Or any of you."
"Your reaction when James rolled out that Aston was thanks enough! You should've seen yourself," he laughed. Jeremy suddenly started talking, apparently not having paid attention to our conversation at all.
"By the way, James, how did that date of yours go this weekend?" He asked casually in a, peering innocently at him over his paper cup of tea.
"Aaw, Jeremy!" Richard muttered, outraged.
"The adult answer to that would be: none of your bleedin' business. But knowing you won't settle for that, here's a shorter one you might understand: Sod off, Clarkson," James finished surly, not looking at him. Privately I'd felt a stab of disappointment and surprise. He hadn't denied being on a date. And why should he? Of course he was dating, why wouldn't he. I realised I didn't know why it was bothering me. Was it because he hadn't told me about it? That I didn't know everything that went on in his life? Of course I didn't, I barely knew him. We'd known each other for a month. Well, a few, if you counted from when we met in Syria. This was only the fifth time we met and spent time together. Me feeling so familiar with him, like he'd been my mate for years, didn't change that.
"All right, sheesh. Can't have been a good one, with that attitude." He took a deep drag of his cigarette, and turned his attention over to me instead. "What about you, then?"
"Huh? What about me?" I was confused.
"Married? In a relationship? Single? Lesbian? Nun in liberal, but celibate religious order? Asexual?"
"...Jeremy... Please shut up..." Richard groaned, so exasperated he didn't know what to do with himself.
"Forever alone, it seems," I sighed.
"Really?" Jeremy raised an eyebrow and let smoke out between his lips. "How long? Since you were in a relationship, I mean."
"Um.. Four years." I counted the years, horrified that it had been that long. Jeremy whistled and gave me a sympathetic frown.
"What happened?"
"He died," I said simply. If he was so desperate for frank conversations, he was going to get it.
"Bloody hell," he exclaimed, staring at me an extra second to make sure I wasn't pulling his leg. "Wow, I'm sorry," he muttered when he realised I wasn't. He understood he'd stepped in it.
"Will you please just... shut up now?" Richard squeaked, exhausted.
"Yes. One can't keep a proper conversation with any of you," he smirked, got up and threw his fag end away. "I'm going home! To a bottle of wine!" He declared. Richard looked at his watch and bounded up as well, not realising how much the time was. They both said their goodbyes and drove off five minutes later.
"Wow, I really killed that conversation," I observed in the silence that had followed their departure.
"Nah, Jeremy did that," James shrugged, keeping his eyes on the sunset. "He can be such a tosspot." A long silence fell, not an uncomfortable one, just a pleasant one. It was a welcome relief from all the chattering and noise that had filled the studio all afternoon.
"Emily?"
"Mm?" I mumbled, lost in thought."I... I don't mean to be nosy, but... What happened to your... boyfriend? The one that died? If you don't mind me asking." I could tell he'd been wondering if he should ask or not.
"No, no, it's fine, I don't mind talking about it. Cancer. Third time recurrence. We were together for about 18 months, then we broke up, mainly because I hated myself so much I had no clue how to love anyone else, when I couldn't even like myself." At this James frowned quizzically. "Long story. A different story. Anyway, somehow we managed to go from being a couple and back to being friends, and I think he became even closer to me because of that, he knew me like no one else did. His family became like my extra-family, and he was kind of a.. soul-brother. He died after six days in the hospital, me and his mum holding his hand, five months after he was told he was terminal. He was 20, I was 23. But in most areas he was infinitely older and wiser than me. Maybe living with the threat of dying hanging over you for five years will do that to you." I drew a sigh, thinking back to a period in my life I hadn't considered for a long time. Sensing I wasn't finished, James kept quiet. "We were best mates for a few years, I spent an entire summer with him in a cancer hospital while he was on chemo, just to keep him company. Passing the time watching Top Gear episodes, incidentally," I added with a sad smile. "He died saying he still loved me. He said so even before he knew he was dying. I argued that I didn't have romantic feelings for him anymore, that he was more like my brother, or my best mate, or a combination of the two. He argued back that "wasn't that the way every long-term relationship ended up feeling like?" I refused to accept that. Thinking he didn't really mean it, he was just desperate, he was dying after all. If I knew I was going to die soon I'd want nothing more than to feel loved, to not be alone. I still don't know if I did the right thing. Maybe I was just a coward. Maybe losing a best friend seemed so much.. more bearable than losing a boyfriend. I told him he was stubborn, but maybe I was. Maybe I was just a coward who denied my best friend the last love of his life. And often I panic, thinking I refused to love the only one who seemed to be prepared to spend the rest of his life with me. Even before he knew how short it would be. And maybe my punishment is that no one will ever love me again." I had no idea what had caused me to spill my heart like this to him. The fact that he had still been in love with me when he died was something I had told very few people. The silence was deafening, I hadn't looked at James while I was talking, but looking inwardly, at my own ghosts and demons. "You are regretting ever asking, aren't you?" I said with an understanding smile, looking at him.
"What, no. I... No, I'm not," he said firmly, and put his arm around me shoulders. "I'm just... I don't know what to say."
"It's okay. There isn't thing you can say, I guess," I shrugged, and leaned a bit into him. He kept his arm around me as we sat there in silence for a while.
"You know, I think ... I think it took a lot of courage, doing what you did. Sticking to your principles, and your emotions, and what you felt was right. Instead of just giving in to what you thought you should do, out of pity or mercy or compassion. You stayed with him, but on your own terms, you loved him as a friend. Getting back together with him, on false premises, just pretending, because you felt bad for him... It was more love in what you did."
"Yeah...?" I said, looking at James with a silent plea, feeling my throat close and the familiar sting of tears in my eyes. What was I doing, crying over this again? I'd wasted so much time doing that already, and I couldn't change what had happened.
"Yeah," James nodded silently, squeezing my shoulders gently. "And the bit about how no one ever will love you again, that is just absolute twaddle. Your friend was smart, he saw how amazing you really were. Honestly, there aren't that many smart blokes out there, hence it takes more time to find them." I made an awkward sound, somewhere between a chuckle, a sob and a sigh, and leaned my against James' shoulder a moment.
"Thank you," I sniffed. "Sorry for just.. throwing all this on you, and becoming all emotional and existential."
"It's okay. I did ask what happened," James soothed.
"Yeah, that'll teach you," I smiled, and we both laughed. The sun had just gone down, and instantly the air felt chillier.
"Ready to get out of here? Go back to London?" I nodded and we scrambled to our feet. When we reached the car James halted. "Want to drive?"
"As much as I am in love with your car, I'll pass. I have reached my limit for luxury-car driving for today. Plus, I don't fancy having to drive into London traffic." We buckled in and silence fell as James weaved his way out of the industrial park. I looked out of the window at the blue light of dusk that I had always loved so much.
"You know, your mate was a bit of a twat, banging on about still loving you when he knew he was dying," James suddenly said matter of factly, having thought it over.
"I know!" I agreed. "He even said so himself, that he was mean for telling me when we both knew he was dying. And that he didn't really expect me to come back to him, knowing I'd lose him soon. But even so, he did tell me, and I can't really blame him for it. If you knew you were leaving soon, wouldn't you make sure everyone you loved knew about it?" James didn't reply for a while, thinking.
"Yes. I would. I probably would have done something ridiculous and desperate if I was him, like proposed to you or something."
"There's the silver lining I've been looking for. "At least he didn't propose!" We broke out in a liberating laugh that swept away the sadness and the seriousness the topic had brought with it. I turned on the radio, and absentmindedly looked as cars and lights sped past, reliving the day in my head as I smiled without even knowing it. All the experiences of the day had made me exhausted, but happy, like I a five year old who had spent all day in an amusement park.
"Emily. Emily?" I couldn't tell what I registered first, James' voice calling my name, or his hand on my arm, gently trying to rouse me. Groggily I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to remember who I was, as well as where, when and why.
"Bwuh?" I mumbled, looking at him drowsily.
"We're here. You're home." He smiled a little at my sleepy face. He was right, this was indeed my street. I must've fallen asleep without even knowing it.
"Oh... right." I sat up straighter and yawned. Now that I wasn't asleep anymore I suddenly felt cold, and closed my jacket closer around me. "You didn't have to do that, though, I could've gotten off in Hammersmith. Taken a bus or the tube back."
"I didn't have the heart to wake you up, only to make you get the bloody bus home," he said mildly. "I'm not a cock." I let out an involuntary laugh.
"Thanks a lot, James. And, thanks for taking me down to the studio today. I can actually tick off a few boxes on my bucket list now, thanks to you."
"Bucket list?"
"You know.. The list of all the things you want to do before you kick the proverbial bucket."
"Oh, right. Well, glad to help. Was fun having you along, though. You're welcome to come with me again, if you want to."
"Yeah, I might do that.. I had a great day." Why was everything feeling awkward now? Maybe because I didn't want to go, I didn't want him to leave.
"I had a good day too," he said.
"Drive safe, yeah?" I urged as I unbuckled my belt and made to get out of the car.
"You're just worried about the car," he teased.
"Well, that too... Mostly that."
"Good night, Emily," he said, sounding almost sad. God, I hated leaving him, and I hated myself for hating it.
"Night, James." With effort I got out of the car without hugging him, and closed the door behind me. James didn't drive off, but waited until I was safely inside before pulling back out into traffic.
"You have no idea!" I sighed, tired but happy. "It's been insane. But so much fun! I have no idea how to thank James enough for this. Or any of you."
"Your reaction when James rolled out that Aston was thanks enough! You should've seen yourself," he laughed. Jeremy suddenly started talking, apparently not having paid attention to our conversation at all.
"By the way, James, how did that date of yours go this weekend?" He asked casually in a, peering innocently at him over his paper cup of tea.
"Aaw, Jeremy!" Richard muttered, outraged.
"The adult answer to that would be: none of your bleedin' business. But knowing you won't settle for that, here's a shorter one you might understand: Sod off, Clarkson," James finished surly, not looking at him. Privately I'd felt a stab of disappointment and surprise. He hadn't denied being on a date. And why should he? Of course he was dating, why wouldn't he. I realised I didn't know why it was bothering me. Was it because he hadn't told me about it? That I didn't know everything that went on in his life? Of course I didn't, I barely knew him. We'd known each other for a month. Well, a few, if you counted from when we met in Syria. This was only the fifth time we met and spent time together. Me feeling so familiar with him, like he'd been my mate for years, didn't change that.
"All right, sheesh. Can't have been a good one, with that attitude." He took a deep drag of his cigarette, and turned his attention over to me instead. "What about you, then?"
"Huh? What about me?" I was confused.
"Married? In a relationship? Single? Lesbian? Nun in liberal, but celibate religious order? Asexual?"
"...Jeremy... Please shut up..." Richard groaned, so exasperated he didn't know what to do with himself.
"Forever alone, it seems," I sighed.
"Really?" Jeremy raised an eyebrow and let smoke out between his lips. "How long? Since you were in a relationship, I mean."
"Um.. Four years." I counted the years, horrified that it had been that long. Jeremy whistled and gave me a sympathetic frown.
"What happened?"
"He died," I said simply. If he was so desperate for frank conversations, he was going to get it.
"Bloody hell," he exclaimed, staring at me an extra second to make sure I wasn't pulling his leg. "Wow, I'm sorry," he muttered when he realised I wasn't. He understood he'd stepped in it.
"Will you please just... shut up now?" Richard squeaked, exhausted.
"Yes. One can't keep a proper conversation with any of you," he smirked, got up and threw his fag end away. "I'm going home! To a bottle of wine!" He declared. Richard looked at his watch and bounded up as well, not realising how much the time was. They both said their goodbyes and drove off five minutes later.
"Wow, I really killed that conversation," I observed in the silence that had followed their departure.
"Nah, Jeremy did that," James shrugged, keeping his eyes on the sunset. "He can be such a tosspot." A long silence fell, not an uncomfortable one, just a pleasant one. It was a welcome relief from all the chattering and noise that had filled the studio all afternoon.
"Emily?"
"Mm?" I mumbled, lost in thought."I... I don't mean to be nosy, but... What happened to your... boyfriend? The one that died? If you don't mind me asking." I could tell he'd been wondering if he should ask or not.
"No, no, it's fine, I don't mind talking about it. Cancer. Third time recurrence. We were together for about 18 months, then we broke up, mainly because I hated myself so much I had no clue how to love anyone else, when I couldn't even like myself." At this James frowned quizzically. "Long story. A different story. Anyway, somehow we managed to go from being a couple and back to being friends, and I think he became even closer to me because of that, he knew me like no one else did. His family became like my extra-family, and he was kind of a.. soul-brother. He died after six days in the hospital, me and his mum holding his hand, five months after he was told he was terminal. He was 20, I was 23. But in most areas he was infinitely older and wiser than me. Maybe living with the threat of dying hanging over you for five years will do that to you." I drew a sigh, thinking back to a period in my life I hadn't considered for a long time. Sensing I wasn't finished, James kept quiet. "We were best mates for a few years, I spent an entire summer with him in a cancer hospital while he was on chemo, just to keep him company. Passing the time watching Top Gear episodes, incidentally," I added with a sad smile. "He died saying he still loved me. He said so even before he knew he was dying. I argued that I didn't have romantic feelings for him anymore, that he was more like my brother, or my best mate, or a combination of the two. He argued back that "wasn't that the way every long-term relationship ended up feeling like?" I refused to accept that. Thinking he didn't really mean it, he was just desperate, he was dying after all. If I knew I was going to die soon I'd want nothing more than to feel loved, to not be alone. I still don't know if I did the right thing. Maybe I was just a coward. Maybe losing a best friend seemed so much.. more bearable than losing a boyfriend. I told him he was stubborn, but maybe I was. Maybe I was just a coward who denied my best friend the last love of his life. And often I panic, thinking I refused to love the only one who seemed to be prepared to spend the rest of his life with me. Even before he knew how short it would be. And maybe my punishment is that no one will ever love me again." I had no idea what had caused me to spill my heart like this to him. The fact that he had still been in love with me when he died was something I had told very few people. The silence was deafening, I hadn't looked at James while I was talking, but looking inwardly, at my own ghosts and demons. "You are regretting ever asking, aren't you?" I said with an understanding smile, looking at him.
"What, no. I... No, I'm not," he said firmly, and put his arm around me shoulders. "I'm just... I don't know what to say."
"It's okay. There isn't thing you can say, I guess," I shrugged, and leaned a bit into him. He kept his arm around me as we sat there in silence for a while.
"You know, I think ... I think it took a lot of courage, doing what you did. Sticking to your principles, and your emotions, and what you felt was right. Instead of just giving in to what you thought you should do, out of pity or mercy or compassion. You stayed with him, but on your own terms, you loved him as a friend. Getting back together with him, on false premises, just pretending, because you felt bad for him... It was more love in what you did."
"Yeah...?" I said, looking at James with a silent plea, feeling my throat close and the familiar sting of tears in my eyes. What was I doing, crying over this again? I'd wasted so much time doing that already, and I couldn't change what had happened.
"Yeah," James nodded silently, squeezing my shoulders gently. "And the bit about how no one ever will love you again, that is just absolute twaddle. Your friend was smart, he saw how amazing you really were. Honestly, there aren't that many smart blokes out there, hence it takes more time to find them." I made an awkward sound, somewhere between a chuckle, a sob and a sigh, and leaned my against James' shoulder a moment.
"Thank you," I sniffed. "Sorry for just.. throwing all this on you, and becoming all emotional and existential."
"It's okay. I did ask what happened," James soothed.
"Yeah, that'll teach you," I smiled, and we both laughed. The sun had just gone down, and instantly the air felt chillier.
"Ready to get out of here? Go back to London?" I nodded and we scrambled to our feet. When we reached the car James halted. "Want to drive?"
"As much as I am in love with your car, I'll pass. I have reached my limit for luxury-car driving for today. Plus, I don't fancy having to drive into London traffic." We buckled in and silence fell as James weaved his way out of the industrial park. I looked out of the window at the blue light of dusk that I had always loved so much.
"You know, your mate was a bit of a twat, banging on about still loving you when he knew he was dying," James suddenly said matter of factly, having thought it over.
"I know!" I agreed. "He even said so himself, that he was mean for telling me when we both knew he was dying. And that he didn't really expect me to come back to him, knowing I'd lose him soon. But even so, he did tell me, and I can't really blame him for it. If you knew you were leaving soon, wouldn't you make sure everyone you loved knew about it?" James didn't reply for a while, thinking.
"Yes. I would. I probably would have done something ridiculous and desperate if I was him, like proposed to you or something."
"There's the silver lining I've been looking for. "At least he didn't propose!" We broke out in a liberating laugh that swept away the sadness and the seriousness the topic had brought with it. I turned on the radio, and absentmindedly looked as cars and lights sped past, reliving the day in my head as I smiled without even knowing it. All the experiences of the day had made me exhausted, but happy, like I a five year old who had spent all day in an amusement park.
"Emily. Emily?" I couldn't tell what I registered first, James' voice calling my name, or his hand on my arm, gently trying to rouse me. Groggily I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to remember who I was, as well as where, when and why.
"Bwuh?" I mumbled, looking at him drowsily.
"We're here. You're home." He smiled a little at my sleepy face. He was right, this was indeed my street. I must've fallen asleep without even knowing it.
"Oh... right." I sat up straighter and yawned. Now that I wasn't asleep anymore I suddenly felt cold, and closed my jacket closer around me. "You didn't have to do that, though, I could've gotten off in Hammersmith. Taken a bus or the tube back."
"I didn't have the heart to wake you up, only to make you get the bloody bus home," he said mildly. "I'm not a cock." I let out an involuntary laugh.
"Thanks a lot, James. And, thanks for taking me down to the studio today. I can actually tick off a few boxes on my bucket list now, thanks to you."
"Bucket list?"
"You know.. The list of all the things you want to do before you kick the proverbial bucket."
"Oh, right. Well, glad to help. Was fun having you along, though. You're welcome to come with me again, if you want to."
"Yeah, I might do that.. I had a great day." Why was everything feeling awkward now? Maybe because I didn't want to go, I didn't want him to leave.
"I had a good day too," he said.
"Drive safe, yeah?" I urged as I unbuckled my belt and made to get out of the car.
"You're just worried about the car," he teased.
"Well, that too... Mostly that."
"Good night, Emily," he said, sounding almost sad. God, I hated leaving him, and I hated myself for hating it.
"Night, James." With effort I got out of the car without hugging him, and closed the door behind me. James didn't drive off, but waited until I was safely inside before pulling back out into traffic.
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