The Missing O

I’d gotten home late on Wednesday night. Whilst Charlie was still redundant I’d been working more hours than I ever had done in my life. Britt, the twins and the rest of the girls would all clock out at four o’ clock each night, just as always, and I’d remain at my desk, fixing and editing things until my eyes blurred, and then at seven o’ clock I’d run to catch the last bus home. It was tiring, to say the least.

Maybe that had been the reason I was so snappy when Charlie had told me she was going out.

“What?” I asked, after checking Kaitlyn was sound asleep. “Where?”

“Matt’s taking me out,” she said, her eyes gleaming. I looked around the living room; there were all the tell-tale signs of a night out. Charlie’s make up bag spilled out over the coffee table, her mirror propped up with a stack of magazines and an assortment of clothes hanging over the back of the couch. I sighed.

“Oh, Morgan,” she whined, “don’t be cross with me, please.”

“I’m not.”

I heard her walking right behind me, following me into my room.

“Liar. You’re all huffy.”

I sighed yet again. Suppose I was jealous of Charlie? Maybe I wanted some guy to sweep me off my feet and take me out for the night? No. That wasn’t it, not this time. I was sick of Charlie heading off into the sunset, leaving me to take care of Kaitlyn and without even twenty-four hours notice.

Perhaps I should have my own plans. What would she do then? Cancel her night out? Definitely not. She’d phone the babysitter that we couldn’t afford. Who was I even kidding. Charlie and I both knew I’d never have any plans, or be as spontaneous as her.

“I’m not,” I told her. “Look, go out, have a good time. Try and come home before I take Katie to day care though, please?”

“Oh, Morgan!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best, you know that?”

“I know,” we laughed. Charlie skipped into the bathroom, humming something and I heard the water go on. “So what time is prince charming picking you up?” I called through to her.

She stuck her head of white hair through the door as I collapsed onto the couch, pulling off my boots. “Eight,” she announced, leaving the bathroom door open so we could talk. “So I’m in a rush. Pick out an outfit for me, I can’t decide.”

This wasn’t the first time I’d had to do this. Usually it took Charlie days to sort out the perfect thing to wear, especially if it was a date and she was trying to impress. And I was sure this was the case with Matt, she seemed to like him a lot already.

I looked through the items she had flung over the sofa, in the end picking out her favourite dark jeans and a charcoal embroided top that I hadn’t seen her in a long while. I looked at the outfit and made a mental note to make sure she wore a coat.

Whilst Charlie was showering I thought I should get changed out of my work clothes. Seeing as it was just me tonight, I figured I’d get straight into some warm pyjama bottoms and a hoodie. I planned on pigging out and watching a bit of Most Haunted.

I was just brushing my hair up into a ponytail when my phone vibrated on the counter. I went to look who the message was from, but I heard Katie let out a wail so I left it unanswered.

Charlie was applying her lip gloss when I came back into the living room.

“Valentino?” I noticed my friends shoes as she looked at me through the mirror. “Wow. You really must like him.”

“I do,” she said, smacking her painted lips together. She smelled like my coconut body butter.

“So,” I said, rooting through the refrigerator, “tell me about him.”

“Matt?” Charlie asked, and I nodded. “Uhm,” she thought for a while. “I don’t really know all that much about him to be honest. I guess that’s why we’re going out tonight. We did things a bit backward, didn’t we?”

Charlie looked at me embarrassedly. “You mean by sleeping with him before you knew his last name?”

I had been joking, but Charlie seemed a bit defensive. “Shut up, I know his last name. Nicholls. You know it too. I know who he is, Morgan. I know he’s a nice guy. A great guy. I just don’t exactly know his life story yet.”

“Yet?” I smirked. “You’re planning on making something out of this?”

Charlie grinned back at me before looking away. “It’s a bit early yet. But he’s just so sweet, and I haven’t felt this way in a long time. He make me feel…oh, I don’t know. Young, Morgan. He makes me feel young.” She was looking at me again, and I’d stopped rummaging through our food. “Sounds daft, really, doesn’t it? It’s just, ever since Kaitlyn was born it’s like I’ve had to grow up so fast. Both me and you have. And it’s been just so tiring. But Matt, he makes me feel so alive. He’s not like all the other guys, I can feel it already.”

I looked at her face for a long time. I’d never seen Charlie this caught up in a guy, and they hadn’t been on the first date yet. But to her, as she’d just told me, this was so much more than just a guy, or just sex. I hadn’t even considered that she’d wanted anything to change. Charlie, my best friend who I had known for so long, had always been so stuck her ways. But now, for the first time, I understood that she saw a bigger picture. She wanted better things than this. This crappy apartment and frozen meals. She wanted more in life, for both her and Kaitlyn, and she saw all of this in Matt.

And all I could do was sit back, watch, and be left behind.

I went to bed late that night, filled with a galleon of ice cream and three glasses of wine. I was feeling so sorry for myself and so exhausted, that I almost didn’t look at my phone. But I remembered the message from earlier, so I laid in bed and opened it up.

Matt got me your number from Charlie. Hope you don’t mind. I look like a real stalker now, don’t I? Oliver x

It took me a long to realise that I was smiling. And even then I didn’t stop; I don’t know whether it was the fact that he didn’t use slang in his texts that I liked, or all the wine making me delusional, but for whatever reason that little text message made me forget everything that was on my mind.

I looked at my clock; it was past two in the morning. It’d have to wait until tomorrow before I could reply. I heard Charlie come in a little before three, and I didn’t even mind that it was so late, and didn’t bother to get up and interrogate her about giving my number out. For the first time in a long time I fell asleep that night with good thoughts on my mind.

I’d always hated Christmas shopping, even when I was just a little girl. I hated the cold, hated how the shopping bags would cut into my fingers from the weight. But most of all, and especially recently, I hated the money side of it. Christmas would be a struggle this year as it was, and if Charlie didn’t shift her arse and get a job, I’d be surprised to see turkey on the table. We were literally broke.

“Charlie,” I yelled, pulling her away from the frosted window. “In your dreams, Love.”

She grabbed at the coat longingly, her eyes glued to the leather. Chanel just was not in our budget. Still, she put up a good fight for a while before her heal slipped on the snow and she gave up, her lip jutted out as we walked away.

“What should we get Katie for her main present?” I wondered, looking through the odd things we’d already bought. There were a few pairs of trousers and a doll Kaitlyn had been gurgling over for a while now. Other than that we had nothing. I suppose I was glad, at this time of year, for the scarce family.

“I was thinking about a dolls house,” Charlie suggested, but she became distracted, smiling as she read over a text message she’d received. Matt, I was sure.

The date had gone well. Really well, so I’d been told. Charlie had gathered the balls to tell him about Kaitlyn, and apparently he’d seemed surprised but had demanded he ‘meet the little tyke as soon as possible’. He’d arranged to take both of them out for Sunday dinner tomorrow.

Great, I’d thought, My best friend is falling in love whilst I sit in a shitting cold café with Oliver bloody Sykes. Great. Bloody great.

Charlie didn’t know about mine and Oliver’s meetings. At least, I hadn’t told her. I didn’t know how much Matt knew, or how much Oliver was letting on. I didn’t care really, I just hadn’t found any reason to bring it up to my room mate yet. And if she knew, she didn’t find it interesting enough to talk about.

“What’s lover-boy saying?” I nudged her with a grin and she slapped me away, rolling her eyes but she blushed as well.

“Just asking how I am,” she muttered before slipping her phone away. “Anyway, yeah. I was thinking a dolls house, y’know, cause she’ll be able to play with it when she’s older and everything. I can just see her, decorating the little rooms and stuff. I think she’ll love it.”

I thought about it. It was a sweet idea, but I thought maybe Kaitlyn was a little young. Maybe she’d enjoy something she could use now, and wasn’t so…well, expensive. Dolls houses weren’t cheap, and the furniture and stuff cost a bomb. I didn’t say anything though. I didn’t want to spoil Charlie’s good mood.

Late at night I’d be able to hear her crying in her room. I knew she felt a failure for losing her job, even if she didn’t say it out loud. I’d catch her looking at Kaitlyn, and see how ashamed she looked. I wished I could just scoop the both of them up and be able to make everything right. I just wanted my best friend to be happy again. Matt seemed to be getting there, though.

I sighed.

“What’s up?” Charlie asked whilst stabbing out another text message.

“Nothing. Just thinking, is all.”

Charlie slowed outside a coffee shop and slipped inside, pulling me with her. The heat instantly wrapped around us, and the smell made me exhale.

“What about?” she asked. We both stared at a row or mint green and bubblegum pink frosted cupcakes.

“Christmas,” I said. “It’s a bit depressing, y’know.”

Charlie sighed, squeezing my arm. “I know, Sweetie. Have you spoken to your mum at all?”

I felt myself cringe. “She sent a letter a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t written back yet, though. Maybe I should.”

“Mmm,” she nodded, then turned to the woman standing behind the counter. “One large cappuccino, please.”

“So how come you don’t see your mum?” We were back in the café, two coffees and full-fat cokes in, and we’d devoured a lemon slice each.

Oliver looked good today. He was wearing a thick purple hoodie, with an obscure design on the back that I hadn’t had the chance to study properly. He had a plane white shirt tucked underneath, and was wearing - unsurprisingly - very tight and very dark jeans. But the reason why I thought he looked good today, was because he hadn’t straightened his hair. He did, however, have a black beanie covering most of it up though.

“She moved to France,” I said solemnly. I hated talking about family. Or more so, my family. It was all very confusing and hard to explain. “A couple of years back. We just sort of lost contact. We write, a couple of times a year. But that’s it.”

Oliver nodded, swilling a millimetre of coffee around the bottom of his mug. “What about your dad?”

I laughed, “Never knew him. All I know is that his name is Alexander Roché, he lives in France somewhere, and I look like him.”

“So you’re French?”

I sighed. This was the part I hated, explaining how little I knew about my parents and myself. “I was born here. Lived here all my life. I’ve flitted between the UK and France for nearly all my life, but I hate it there.”

“Mm,” Oliver finished his coffee in one last gulp. “My rents shifted me and Tom between here and Australia for a few years. Didn’t really like it all that much.”

“Really?” I asked, glad to change to focus to him. “How come?”

“My Dad’s job at the time. Just meant we were always in between places and shit. It got a bit confusing. I’m glad he doesn’t have to do it anymore.”

“Is he retired?”

He chuckled, “May as well be. He works for my clothing line now. So does my mum. They like it and everything, it’s not like I forced them into doing it. I just thought I should pay them back in some way for bringing me up and stuff.”

This whole clothing line thing seemed to becoming more and more of a big deal. Maybe bigger than what I had thought.

“What’s it called?” I asked, “The clothing line, I mean.”

“Drop Dead. You heard of it?” He was smiling but I could tell he was a bit embarrassed.

“Uhm, no,” I felt bad. “But I’m not exactly up to date with what’s in at the moment. I’m a bit of a hermit.”

He snorted, and I felt relieved that he hadn’t been insulted. But I’d gathered from what I’d leant about Oliver that he wasn’t that sort of guy. A cocky bastard, yes. But he wasn’t arrogant, nor ignorant. He was giving and humble, and the fact he’d given his parents jobs out of his own success was evidence of that.

We soon fell in to one of our breaks of peaceful quiet, where we would sit and just look around us for a while. It usually happened when we’d both finished our drinks but couldn’t be bothered to get up and order another one just yet.

I smiled to myself briefly. I had texted Oliver the next afternoon after he had gotten my number from Charlie. I still hadn’t questioned her about it. He texted me every day, usually during my lunch brake and he insisted that I texted him while I was on the bus, and to inform him that I’d gotten home safe. I didn’t really understand it, but I sort of, well, liked it.

“Drink?” he asked soon, and I nodded. He cleared our cups and plates, taking them to the counter to save the waitress two trips, and I watched him as he had his back to me.

An owl. The design on the back of the purple jacket was a traditional design of an owl, but it was all brains, lightening bolts and smoke. I stared at it for a long time, deciding what I thought of it. I liked it. Loved it, maybe. Underneath the owl were the words ‘Drop Dead’. I couldn’t help but smile.