Meeting Mr Write: Mr Write Trilogy Book One (12 page)

Matthew smiles and looks down at his feet.

“Sit with me a minute will you Rosie, I need to talk to you about something.” It sounds serious and I’m worried, but sit as he has asked.

“You and Rafe are so close. I love seeing the two of you together. I love him; you know that already, I guess it’s pretty obvious.” He smiles and I nod, laughing at just how obvious it actually is.  “I never thought that I would find a love like this, and I never want to lose him. I’ve spoken to your parents.”

I look at him and my heart skips a beat, I realise what’s coming and my emotions begin to well.

“Your parents gave me their blessing and now, I have to ask for yours. I want to grow old with Rafe, Rosie. I want to ask him to marry me, but I need to know that you’re ok with it first?”

I cannot hold back the tears and my happiness.

“YES Matthew, yes of course!”

I yell and hug him tightly. There’s applause and cheers of congratulations from the surrounding tourists, they think that it’s me who’s just been proposed to. Matthew and I giggle quietly, while both wiping away a stray tear or two.

“Are you sure? I never want to jeopardise your relationship with Rafe.” He is holding my hands and is completely serious, I smile at him and shake my head.

“Matthew, you enhance it. I couldn’t be happier.”

I mean it, I couldn’t. I’ve seen Rafe heartbroken when boyfriends have cheated, and when men have promised to leave their wives for him, when really he is just a bit of fun, and I’ve also see him be the one to do the using. Since he met Matthew at mine and Michael’s engagement party though, I have seen a massive change in my brother.

I had known Matthew for eighteen months by then so I knew that he was gay and that he was single, and of course I thought he’d be perfect for Rafe. Matthew is six foot two, with the most amazing blue eyes I have ever seen. He is blonde and
has a fantastic body, but given that he is a personal trainer that comes as no surprise.

To say that he just a personal trainer though sells him short. He owns a company that specialises in personal one to one training up and down the country, they also run residential boot camps, martial arts classes and specially designed workout programmes for their celebrity and wealthy clientele.

When I introduced Matthew to Rafe at the party, I knew that their mutual love of sport and martial arts would give them something to talk about, and that maybe they would go out of a few dates here or there, but I had no idea that they would fall so deeply in love that I would be asked for my blessing on a marriage.

Memories of the way that Rafe’s chocolate brown eyes sparkle when he talks about Matthew, and the way he smiles when he hears his voice come into my mind on the walk back down towards the beach. I cannot rid my face of its stupid childlike grin. An elbow to the ribs from Matthew as we approach the tanning twins sorts that out for me though, and I resume my poker face, on the outside at least. Inside, I’m so incredibly happy.

Thirteen

Jackson

I’m a complete wreck. Pippa wouldn’t let me anywhere near Rosie to apologise, and not seeing or speaking to her has made me realise what I have lost. Stupidly I believed that falling in love was a choice and I had made mine long ago that I never would…but now I know that it’s not. It’s irrational and all consuming, and despite my best efforts to ignore it, it has grabbed me by the balls and will not let go.

When I was young I had all the makings of a hopeless romantic. I used to let my imagination run wild as I wrote fairy tales of princes and princesses, and happily ever afters. My parents were so in love and I used to think all adults were like that, but I grew to realise just how special their love was.

Dad used to come in after a long day at work and he’d walk straight into the kitchen where Mum would be preparing dinner. I would usually be doing homework or writing at the dining table and he would wink at me, before spinning her around and pulling her in close to him. She would look up at him as though she had missed him so much that it hurt, and he would dip her back and kiss her like they movie stars were in some classic Hollywood love story.

I used to watch my parents and hope that I would have a love like theirs when I was older. I had that chance with Rosie, but I blew it, all because of fear.

When Mum got sick I saw my Dad cry for the first time. By the time they diagnosed her breast cancer there was nothing that they could do for her, apart from make her as comfortable as possible.

We kept her at home and cared for her ourselves, with the help of the nurses and doctors that came in daily, I was just seventeen. My Dad hardly left her side for the whole time, neglecting his own needs to just sit and hold her hand, reassuring her that he and I were going to be ok.

From the day of her diagnosis we only had six weeks to say goodbye, I felt robbed. My Dad was a shadow of his former self in the months that passed and I became extremely angry at the world. I started to drink a lot and sleep around, believing that the momentary highs would drown out the lows, but they didn’t.

As my eighteenth birthday approached and my university place beckoned, my Dad became concerned that I was going to throw it all away. The two of us went away together to a cabin in mid-Wales. We fished and drank beer, talked about films we liked and tried to re-establish our relationship. Dad tried to talk about Mum but I blocked him out, it was too painful. After a while my Dad became angry and it was directed at me.

“Jackson, she was and still is your Mother and she adored you. Don’t you dare block her out like she never existed!” I was shocked. That wasn’t what I was trying to do, it just hurt to talk about her, and I never wanted to see my Dad cry again. “It’s painful son. We love her so very much, but we’ll get through it.”

I could feel the burn in my throat as the tears welled in my eyes and I couldn’t understand how he remained so composed. He placed a strong hand on my shoulder and the tears fell. Unashamedly, I sobbed.

“You have to let it out Jackson. I have never felt pain like I am feeling now, but let me tell you something son, I thank God every day for the twenty years that I had with your mother. I don’t feel anger for the years that lay ahead without her, I was lucky.”

His words struck a chord with me. I wish I could have felt the same way and was so proud to call him my Dad at that moment and every one since, but I didn’t share his positivity. I painted on a brave face and vowed never to let him see my anger at her death again, but that was the day that I made the decision to stay single. I didn’t want to fall in love and lose that person, and I never wanted children, just to leave them in the end. I knew it was irrational, but it was my decision and it was the only thing that I would ever commit to.

I make a conscious effort not to think too much about my Mum’s death. I know that if I over analyse, I will realise how stupid I have been and how disappointed she would be. So instead, I try focus on doing at least some things that she could be proud of.

My writing is one of those things, but I’m not able to concentrate on my book at all at the moment. I’ve lost my train of thought and my vision for it, I can’t go anywhere here without seeing Rosie in my mind and it breaks me every time. I have to try and clear my mind, so I open up my online blog.

I have been blogging my trips for years and it’s a great way to end a day. Rosie has been mentioned in other blogs since I got to Krabi, but only passing comments about karaoke bars and snorkel trips.  I haven’t written anything for days, but I need to get things off my chest.

Jackson’s James – Ticket to Thailand

Day Fifteen, 15
th
November 2012

Well I’m leaving Krabi for Chiang Mai today. I’ve been trying to contact Rosie for four days now but her phone is constantly switched off. I’m such a moron!

I had a good thing and blew it because of my own stupid principles. Part of me is hoping that she will somehow see this and realise how sorry I am.

Rosie, if you do, please call me back. Let me explain.

I miss her company terribly. I can’t focus on writing my book and even considered getting a boat to Phi Phi and trying to find her, but I figure she needs space, regardless of how much it’s killing me.

I had no idea that I could feel this way about someone. She wowed me completely and I just feel sick at the thought that I’ve pushed her away for good. She’s been hurt before, and not just by me. So why would she let me back in and trust me not to hurt her again.

I’m not going to blog again until I get to Chiang Mai, and I’ll try to make it about Chiang Mai instead of the girl I’m in love with…

Seeing the words on screen make me realise that I am hopelessly in love with Rosie. I’m admitting it for the first time and it feels so bittersweet, if only I had realised that a few days ago.

I click upload and close the site, then I open Facebook. I haven’t tried to find Rosie on there until now. I don’t know if she even has an account, but I have to try to look for her, if she is on there, maybe she’ll check it while she’s on Phi Phi. If I send her a message, she might just read it and understand. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot that I have.

I type her name into the search box and then there she is, Rosie P Alvez, her red hair and green eyes pull me in and make my heart ache.

I feel crushed at the sight of her, standing at the Phi Phi view point with her arms wrapped tightly around the waist of some bloke, him kissing her on the top of her head. She looks happy…that’s the worst part.

I can’t blame her for moving on, but I wish it was me making her smile like that and not the Aryan that she’s holding on to. I decide against sending her a message, it’ll just be a holiday fling. I will make contact with her once she’s back in London, she can’t keep her phone switched off forever.

***

Rosie

On the flight home, Pip and I decide to use my laptop to look through all of the photos that she has taken while we were in Thailand. Being the great friend that she is, she’s already taken any of Jackson out and saved them in a separate folder…just in case.

We laugh as we look through our drunken nights out and reminisce at the pictures of the kids at the nursery, Annie & Steve, and the trips that we took. We get to the photos from Phi Phi, the ones that Matthew and I took at the viewpoint and then the ones that Pip took when she visited after seeing ours. Hers are incredible, but mine take me back to one of the happiest moments of my life.

Pippa clicks next and we both smile.

We look at each other, both with tears in our eyes as we flick through photos of Matthew’s proposal. He got down on one knee on the beach during an already amazing evening, he cooked us a barbeque on the sand and brought out a bottle of champagne, he held Rafe’s hand and spoke such heartfelt words that we were all in tears, Rafe included.  Seeing my big brother cry is something that I’ve never seen or ever thought I would.

Pip clicks next again and it’s a video. While she had taken the photographs I had filmed the moment for my parents. Pip clicks play.

“I’d like to say a few words.” Matthew is pouring us all a glass of champagne and I can see now how nervous he was, although I didn’t notice at the time.

“Oh here we go, my public speaker!” Rafe teases him, obviously not knowing what’s coming. Matthew clears his throat and hands Rafe his glass before lowering to one knee on the sand. My brother is lost for words and even in the dim light of the setting sun the tears in his eyes are clear to see, Matthew clears his throat and starts to speak.

“Rafael, there couldn’t be a more perfect place or moment to say these words to you. We’re in paradise with people that love us and I am honoured to be here with you. I want to grow old with you Rafe, I want to face whatever the future holds with you by my side and you would make me the happiest man in the world if you were to say yes. I love you, will you marry me?”

Rafe doesn’t say a word before the tears start to fall and he drops to his knees to join Matthew, he cups his man’s face in his hands and looks into his eyes.

“Yes, yes! Oh I love you.”

His voice is weak as he answers, strained with emotion. They kiss and the sound of Pippa and I cheering and sobbing at the same time plays loud and clear through the laptop speakers as the video ends.

“That’s true love Pip!” I smile at my best friend, who takes my hand and smiles back,

“So is this!” she winks at me and clicks next.

***

The next few days are a blur of jetlag and phone calls to family.
 Rafe, Matthew and I head to Buxton to see my parents and celebrate the news. I use the time up there to pull my book together. It’s turned out very different to any of my previous releases. It’s about a girl who goes travelling in the hope of finding love but instead finds friendships that she never imagined could exist. There’s no romance in it at all. It’s just a lovely story about a group of people brought together by a love for travel, despite the differences in their backgrounds.

I’m really proud of my work and think it feels more mature than anything I’ve produced previously, I can’t wait to present the manuscript to Francesca, I’ve even managed to finish it before the new deadline she gave me.

My parents, being the eternal hosts that they are, have taken it upon themselves to plan an engagement party for the boys. It will be in Rafe’s café but Dad will be catering it, and Mam will plan every detail. I of course am just expected to turn up and look pretty, which I’m grateful for.

Jackson hasn’t tried to make contact since I’ve been home, but it’s taking everything that I have not to think about him. I’m just glad that I have so many positive things to focus on at the moment.

The evening before the three of us head back to the capital is spent drinking wine in my childhood bedroom, listening to eighties Madonna and pulling together a guest list. We have great fun joking about what certain people might wear and who will go home with whom, but before long, Matthew’s mood changes and he goes quiet.

“Babe, what’s up? Having second thoughts?” Rafe asks. He is joking but there’s concern in his voice,

“No, of course not, it’s just…” He looks at me, “Michael!”

Stupidly, we hadn’t even thought about him before now. It will be the first time that any of my family will have seen him since the non-wedding. Rafe has refused to be in the same room as Michael for fear of killing him, but he’s Matthew’s twin, how can they not invite him?

“Don’t worry. I’m a big girl I can handle it…and so can Rafael.” I shoot my brother a look that says, ‘
you will behave yourself and not ruin this for your fiancé!’
He smiles a shy smile in response and Matthew writes his brother’s name on the list.

It’s the day of the party and I’m excited.
My parents are staying with Rafe for a few days, which means that all of my family is within close reach. Pip, Mam & I have decided to have a pamper day to get ready for this evening. Well, Pip, Dad and I decided, Mam protested saying that she had too much to do, but the Alvez men just wanted her out of their hair, and their very capable hands.

After a hot stone massage, a facial, manicure and a pedicure, I am ready for my hair to be tamed by a professional. I will do my own make up, but I’m the first to admit that I am crap with hair. Enrique is a friend of Rafe’s and is coming to the party later, so takes pleasure in making me as presentable as possible.

My Mam and I are next to each other in the salon while Pip is getting her hair washed. I can’t help but notice our similarities in the mirror. My skin is darker than hers and my hair less wiry, but we have the same flame red colour and bright green eyes. She is strikingly beautiful still and I can only imagine what my Dad must have thought the first time he laid eyes on her.

Mam had gone to Spain at eighteen, under the pretence of wanting to study the architecture of Catholic churches in Europe. The irony is that it was Catholicism she was running away from.

Mam had grown up in a strict Irish Catholic family just outside of Cork in Ireland. Her father was an alcoholic who ruled with an iron fist and her mother was a timid woman who relied on Hail Mary’s to get her through her loveless marriage.