This Book Made Me Think of You(46)
“It’s not crazy. I’ve been trying to sort the flat out this week, going through Joe’s things, and it’s not going well. I haven’t thrown away a single thing. I’m failing spectacularly at this month’s book. He gave me a book about tidying, and the flat is more chaotic than ever.”
“I think the books he chose were intended more as guidebooks, not maps,” Alfie says steadily. “It’s up to you what you do with them.”
Tilly is aware that her throat suddenly feels tight, her palms clammy. Her voice wobbles as she says, “I just feel like I keep taking these steps forward, but in other ways I’m still stuck exactly where I was.” Because when the grief hits her, it still feels as sharp as ever. Shouldn’t it feel easier by now? When will her heart stop feeling like it’s too big for her chest, like all the pain and love inside of her could just burst out, breaking her in half? “I feel like this is an important step, one I should be ready to take. But honestly, I’m not sure that I am. Or if I will be. And that makes me feel like I’m letting him down.”
“Tilly.”
Alfie’s hands suddenly reach for Tilly’s hands in her lap, holding them there. His eyes fix on her, shining with a fierceness but a softness too.
“You’re forgetting that I met Joe. When he came into the bookshop to order your books, he talked about you.” His eyes dart between hers, and the grip on her hands tightens as if he is trying to impress his words into her through his fingertips so that she will remember them and maybe believe them. “I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do to let him down.”
* * *
—
They finish tidying the shop together and say goodbye, Alfie staying behind to cash up the till. Once she’s on the street, she lets out a breath, glad to be in the open air. But there’s a part of her that wants to be back inside opening another bottle of wine and talking about the things she never manages to find the words for with anyone else. She thinks back to the moment when Alfie held her hands, his eyes fixed on hers, and how she had imagined what it would feel like to be wrapped up tightly against his chest, the roughness of his beard scraping against her cheek, his strong arms around her back. Just for a moment it would have been nice to be held.
* * *
—
Alfie switches off the lights one by one. He can still catch the lingering trace of Tilly’s perfume and the smell he’s come to know as hers—apples and tea and a touch of vanilla. All he can think about is the feeling of her skin beneath his hands. It had taken all his strength not to reach a thumb to wipe the tear that made a trail down her pale cheek and to stop himself from pulling her soft body into his arms. He so nearly leaned forward, bridging the gap between them, but he managed to stop himself at the last moment. Because despite the way she makes him feel—safe and calm and like his worries about the future disappear for a moment—Alfie knows she is not his to hold, and that his will never be the arms she wants around her.
July
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Twenty-Nine
Tilly’s fingertips are covered in flour, her bare shoulders warm from the late-morning sun that slants in through the open-air kitchen attached to the crumbling Tuscan farmhouse at the top of the hill. The air is sweet with the smell of apricots, figs, and peaches growing in the orchard. A view of golden yellow stretches ahead of her, the fields of sunflowers that entirely surround the villa in stark contrast to the hot blue sky.
When Harper called to say that she had a free ticket to attend a pasta-making course in Tuscany, it hadn’t taken long for Tilly to agree to go with her.
“When I heard ‘pasta,’ I thought of you,” Harper said on the phone. “The place looks incredible. It’s a villa in the middle of nowhere. Wouldn’t it be fun to go away together again? It will mean being away over Joe’s anniversary though. But I thought we could mark it in some way there? And I’ll be there to support you.”
Ever since turning down the invitation to join Joe’s family, Tilly has been uncertain about how to commemorate the day. She knew her parents would offer to come and visit or invite her to Hay for the weekend, but she isn’t sure she could face their worry and well-meaning but sometimes smothering care. She had been leaning toward spending the day alone, but as soon as Harper suggested the trip, she realized that her sister was whom Tilly wanted with her on what she knew would be a painful day.
“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Raj with you?” she had asked.
“There’s no one I’d rather have with me,” Harper had assured her.
So here they are, learning how to make pasta in an outdoor kitchen with views across the Tuscan countryside. Tilly pauses what she is doing, rubbing her hands on her apron and taking a photo of the view to send to the Paris Grief Gang WhatsApp group.
Cécile: Incroyable!
Fairooz: That looks so beautiful. I think you made the right choice about going.