I call Charlie the next day. I walk to the forest's edge. Let myself retrace the steps of the long ago explorer, cartographer, and allow my feet to carry myself to the cliff's edge where I can see the Nile as it ripples with the light of the sunrise. I imagine he, too, is by the sea. Connected, through the miles, by a shared view of the vicious, wild and unforgiving water. We have a long drawn out, painful conversation. But it needs to be said.

"Hey Charlie."

"Eve! Finally. How are you?"

"Good."

There is silence. Then I imagine that I hear the slight crackle of static. But who hears static on phones nowadays? I imagine him tousling his blond hair. His father would make him cut it, short, Ivy League, respectable businessman style. But during the summer he'd always keep it long. Oh, how I loved it long. I remember how I always used to ask to touch it, ever since I was a kid. And he'd let me tousle my hands through it. I remember his laugh, the lilting sound. Oh, Charlie.

"I'm studying anthropology and history at Astoria. Although, you know that, of course."

"I knew you got into Astoria. I kissed you, remember? I was so proud. I am still so proud of you. Do you remember where we were when you told me? On the pier."

I wonder is that where he is right now? In our place. By the waves. Is that the empty nose in the background? The lapping of the tide. I suddenly long to be closer to the water again, to feel the spray of the sea on my face, to hear that voiceless language of the ocean as it calls to me, beckons. I am standing close, too close to the precarious cliff's edge. Near where the mapmaker tossed himself into the churning mass below and I have a sudden urge to step forward, balance by the edge and feel myself tip into the depths below. But Charlie's voice anchors me to the ground. He was always my saviour. Was.

"But you never told me you were studying anthropology."

His voice is accusing. There is that strange silence again for a few seconds. Then he speaks again, his voice slipping between softly droning waves of static.

"Uh. And since when do you even enjoy that? You always hated history! Didn't you drop it, in like, year nine or something? The only subjects I remember you liking were English and Science. Wasn't it your dream to major in biochemistry or biomedicine? Evie! What are you doing with your life. You can't live out somebody else's dream-"

"You're wrong."

I let my words settle. White noise, what an awful sound.

I know that these are the words that will hurt him most. Charlie was one of the few people who truly knew me. Truly understood me. Knows things about me that nobody else ever would. But Rafe is getting there, persists a voice in my mind. He has seen all of you, and it's only a matter of time before he knows all of you too.

"I have a boyfriend now."

Surely you know. My parents told you, didn't they? That's why you're calling? Isn't it. There's no question about it. I want to say all of this, but I don't. Instead, I leave it at the one sentence.

I change the subject. I want to shock him, to hurt him. He of all people should understand what I am feeling and yet he refuses to accept the truth. It is all my fault and still he shakes his head and lies for me. Lies for himself. He doesn't want to lose me, even though I've lost myself. He can't bear to lose the two most important things in his life. Refuses to let himself be pushed away by both her and myself. Will we say her name, I wonder? It's been so long since we said it.

"And I have a girlfriend."

Since when? It hurts to know that he's moved on.

"So what? We can't talk? Evangeline. You promised me you would try. You swore it, that day at the cliff's edge. Let me save you."

The cliff's edge in Reeves. The memory drifts to me. A torn piece of fabric ensnared in a thorn as Charlie pulls me away from the churning mass of the sea. Tugs me away from the siren's call of the ocean. Maybe that's why I sought out the Same view again, while speaking to him. But he's not here with me now. He can't save me again. And yet, his voice still holds the Same protection and I take a few steps back, retreat into the skeletal trees once more, disturbing the frost covered twigs that litter the icy forest floor.

"Well, guess what, Charles? I lied! I fucking lied to you. To everybody. I guess she was right all along, huh. I kept my true self hidden behind a façade from you. And you believed it. You almost made me believe it, too. But deep down, I always knew. Always."

"Liar."

His tone is measured and sure. I guess he gets that from all his time spent with unhinged, albeit incredibly wealthy, clients in courtrooms.

"Yes, I just said that, Charlie. Weren't you listening. What are you doing, anyway? Hangin' with your girlfriend in our spot? I told you I am a liar. I lied to you and everybody else. Almost even myself. But I never forgot."

"You did. When you were with me, you forgot all of that, Eve."

It's true. With him, the world melted away. And it was just the two of us. Sometimes it seemed as though the entire universe realigned itself with a single point between us, our shoulders pressing together as we sat on the pier and watched the waves. And sometimes the universe disappeared when our bodies intertwined and there was no beginning nor end to us. Charlie knew me. Understood me, more than I cared to admit.

"Charlie! You don't know everything about me anymore. Okay! What we had, once-upon-a-time, is gone! And yeah, maybe I did forget things when I was with you and god, sometimes I wish I never left you, but that's over now. And it's my fault. Don't you understand? We can't change it."

I'm crying again. It seems that all I do nowadays is cry. His breath hitches slightly and I know that if we were sitting together, I'd let him pull me into his arms, kiss away my tears.

"I love you, Charlie. Always and forever. Heart infinity."

I imagine curling up in his arms forever.

"But we are broken, Charlie. I broke her, I broke us up. But I can't, won't, break you."

The lapping of the waves grows louder, a deep hum from the ocean that calls to me, both through the phone and from the real life water before me, but I now know to stay away. The hesitant first light of day tears me away from my nightmares and keeps me her in the real world, but I know that one day soon, history will repeat itself and Charlie won't be there to rescue me again. Nobody will.

"Evie, come back. Come back to Reeves. I know what you're doing in Astoria. But we can run away, together. I'll leave law behind, the family business, our names, everything. We can run, together. Please, Evie."

His chipper text messages and Instagram posts hide all this. He is just as broken inside as me. But I can't make it worse. I can't be with him. Moreover, I don't even know if I still love him in the Same way anymore. And then I realise a sad truth. We broke up before all of this happened. Does he remember? The spark between us disappeared. I still love him, but I am no longer in love with him. And we were alright with it. He kissed me, for the last time on that pier and promised we'd be friends. Heart infinity. Still love each other forever. I don't think he remembers this, though. He craves the normalcy of before. Oh, Charlie. But what can I say?

"Charlie. You have a girlfriend."

"She doesn't love me. She wants the family name and the fortune. I don't think we even like each other; we just look good on paper."

So blunt. But I remember that for all his virtues, Charlie does have vices. His golden hair, tan surfer boy good looks and Ivy League education projected an image of a wholesome good boy. A real life Archie Andrews. But he was never above casual fucks. With me, he stopped. For years, I was his one and only. He gave up that listless life for me. But I remember when I was younger, staying for sleepovers at his house, playing dress up with his sister. Almost every night they'd be a different girl. With his father on seemingly perpetual business trips and his mother attending galas and charity auctions or whatever, it'd be just me, Kiki, Charlie and the housekeeper, and sometimes we'd catch a glimpse of Charlie's flavour of the week. But we never said a word. And neither did the housekeeper.

He was careful though, to shield his sister and I from that world. He tried so hard. Pushed me away for years when I sought him out. I'd been crushing on him since I was eight. When I was thirteen and first started trying to flirt with him, he kissed me on the forehead and drunkenly called me his sister. He was sixteen. Finally when he was at the edge of seventeen and I was barely fifteen, he relented. On the pier, we shouted, whipped at by salt and sea spray. He kept saying it was wrong, he shouted over the call of the sea that he was too old for me, not right for me but I wanted him and finally when he kissed me, I knew that he wanted it too.

Charlie was my first. My first everything. And yet he was my secret from the world. I never told anybody that we were dating. Not my best friend nor my parents. Nobody. During the summer when I was seventeen years old, I told him that I wanted more than just kisses. He'd protested. I declared that if he kept refusing to do it with me, on the basis of some ridiculous principle, I'd do it with some other boy. I knew that Charlie wanted me, wanted more. And I knew that I was acting like a brat, but I truly loved him. And he loved me. I needed it to be with him. And so, I broke up with him that night. He acted aloof, rolled his eyes at me and hooked up with some girl. Nobody said a word, nobody questioned it; the image projected from his earlier years carried through to adulthood even though he'd long abandoned such playboy ways. For me. We were at the Same party and I saw her run her hands over him. He cast his eyes at me, raising an eyebrow as if to say you'll really let her do this? I wanted to scream, right then and there, but I couldn't say a word. Finally, I wrapped myself around a boy in my class, notorious for his player ways. That was it. Charlie grabbed my arm and tugged me away from the party. He yelled over his shoulder at his sister, warning her never to act like me, and although she attempted to follow, she soon lost herself in the haze of people. He publicly chastised me, keeping up the illusion that we weren't together, that he cared for me like a brother, and then Charlie dragged me away from the crowds.

We argued for almost an hour in his parents' greenhouse, surrounded by lush ferns and greenery. Finally we stopped. And I cried, tears streaming down my face as I whispered that I just wanted all of him, and he enveloped me in a hug.

He whispered things that were snatched away on the breeze. Sometimes, on warm hazy afternoons when the wind stirs the air and summer fades into night, I catch the gentle ghostly fragrance of calla lilies and jasmine flowers and suddenly I am there in the greenhouse again, with Charlie, for the first time.

There was a picnic blanket that he placed on the floor, between the palm fronds and gently curling ferns, and he was so gentle with me, as if I might break. For all my pushing for it, I was slightly scared, but he soothed my fears away.

That became another one of our places. The pier for first kisses and the greenhouse for other firsts. And I imagine him walking there now, as my phone hums with the wordless silence of the waves so far away.

The truth is, I will always love Charlie. But what we had is gone. Irreplaceable and unfixable. We weren't careful enough. I wasn't careful enough, and because of that, somebody found out. Just one person, and yet it ruined everything. I didn't mean for it to happen. None of us did, and as I begin to delve into this memory again, I let out a shaky breath. I see it in my dreams most nights, but I don't want to truly confront the truth in the harsh light of morning, the harsh light of reality. And Charlie hears the fear in my breath, understands.

"I'm sorry, Evie. I keep trying to forget. I do try. But it is so hard. Every day. Every fucking day I am reminded of it. Of her, of you. And the sea. There is no escaping the water, nor the salt that stole her last breath."

"I know."

The waves crash heavily, throwing themselves against the cliff face.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Break up with your girlfriend."

He laughs, a dissonant, mirthless sound.

"You deserve better."

I deserve you, I can almost hear him say. But he understands now and so he doesn't speak those words. And so we are back to formalities. Upholding the illusion that we are friends and nothing more. That we were never anything more.

"So, tell me about your boyfriend."

And he lets a smirk drift into his voice. I remember we were extras in a movie once. But I'd always been certain that if Charlie didn't pursue law, he could've been a brilliant movie star. Or a supermodel.

"Char-lie!"

I whine like a petulant teenager, embarrassed to tell her family about her new beau. And even though this charade is painful for the both of us, we keep it up. He laughs, and the sound is so full and bright that I can almost pretend that it is real. Not forced nor fake.

"I've gotta meet him. Eve, you have to come back and visit. Bring this guy so I can interrogate him."

I giggle, and I realise that I am so caught up in the charade of this that it suddenly does feel real. I won't ever stop loving Charlie, but suddenly I realise that I really do love Rafe too, and maybe he can, is already, ameliorating all the grief of my past.

"Okay. I promise. I will visit soon, alright? And I'll bring Rafe, too."

"You'd better!"

Silence again, but this time it is comfortable. I wonder if he can hear the waves before me through his phone. No. If he could, he'd abandon all pretence. Fear would slip into his voice and he'd shout at me, scared for me. And he'd never leave me alone again.

"Oh, and Evie?"

"Mm hmm?"

And only then does he let the truth come out for a few brief seconds.

"Drop anthropology. Do science, okay? Just do what you love, Eve."

And when I answer, I wonder if I am lying, fulfilling the role I play, or if I am telling the truth and am truly promising to take control over my life.

"Okay."

I imagine him sitting by the pier, the blueness of the water reflected back in his eyes.

"Charlie, I love you. Heart infinity. I will love you, always and forever."

"And I love you, heart infinity, always and forever. Take care, Eve. And don't forget to come back every once in a while. Keep in touch..."

"I will. Bye."

And that subtle click that my phone makes as I turn it off kills the conversation. Kills any pretence that Charlie -and I- had of continuing what we once had. For a while, I hesitate at the forest's edge, staring over the cliff face at the sea. And I imagine that Charlie walks off the pier across the beach, his shoes leaving footprints in the sand that will soon be washed away stolen by the ocean. I wonder what the beach would look like if none of our footprints ever washed away. There'd be ghostly traces of our past, bare feet scattered about in haphazard circles from bonfires with Kiki and midnight dances on the beach with Charlie.

I imagine him now, weaving through the long gone prints of our history braving the cold claws of the wind and the salty scratches of the water that the waves throw at him, to push through the Reeves forest to the cliff's edge.

I can almost feel the both of us, separated by hundreds of kilometres, and yet, sharing the Same view of a cliff face that hovers over the sea that stole everything from us. 

~~~

Ohmygosh, I had the worst week ever. A PHYSICS AND A CHEMISTRY EXAM. And now a group biology project- I mean, what a disgusting concept. A GROUP project worth 30% of my biology mark! And I don't think I went so well in the exams and I'm really quite terrified of results. I am like the opposite of Evie in regards to my studies. She hates anthropology and loves science. And I'm doing biomed, and anthropology -my ELECTIVE- is my saviour rn?! HELP. SOS.

Anyways, I was rereading this chapter when I was editing and woah epiphanies.

I remember I started watching Killing Eve around the time I started writing this book... is Evangeline's name actually subconsciously inspired by Eve?? Or is it inspired by my own REAL NAME?? I don't even know. I just made that connection now when I saw Charlie said Eve.

Also, Charlie. I've always adored the name Charlie for a boy. But I don't think I know any Charlies? The only Charlie I know is ... my handbag. I have this GORGEOUS Classic Chanel quilted flap bag in black caviar and I named it Charlie after my parents gave it to me. So, uh, is the side love interest of my story actually my HANDBAG??

Who knows. Not I, that's for sure.