Chapter Text
‘Before you say anything, this isn’t about Marina.’
‘I know.’ Penelope’s voice was firm on the other side of the line, none of the pity his siblings or his mother used on him lately on the rare occasions they spoke on the phone.
‘I thought you’d be asleep by now.’
‘I was writing.’ She sighed. ‘What’s really on your mind, Col?’
Where to start? He had been spiralling for hours already, too much wine and a really terrible blunt making everything worse after a weird night out in town with a group of locals he met the week before. It had only made him feel lonelier. For the past two months, he had been travelling around Croatia and Greece, allegedly for content on low season travel around the Mediterranean (a last minute, half-arsed excuse), but he was also running away. From so many things. Apparently, not fast enough. Tonight, he had just sent Penelope what he could now see as a deranged message, only for his phone to light up barely a second later.
‘Anthony thinks I am moping over that stupid article about Marina cheating, but it’s not only about that.’
‘I know. That’s why I called.’
‘It’s just…’ He knew he could trust Pen not to laugh or patronise him, or try to offer platitudes without much consideration. But how could he really say what was on his mind without her thinking less of him? He was pathetic. ‘Nobody cares. About anything I do or don’t do.’
‘How can you even say that when I am here?’ He could hear the disappointment in her voice. More of what he got from everyone else around him. ‘What time is it over there?’ She asked.
He had to lift his head from the pillow to see the clock on the microwave in the tiny kitchen counter in his nondescript hotel room. Just another one of the many hotel rooms he lived in. ‘Nearly three.’
‘When was the last time you’ve eaten anything? Crisps don’t count.’
Damn it. ‘Can’t remember.’
Her huffed laugh had no humour in it. ‘You need to eat. Can you order room service? I’ll wait on the line until you do, and then we can talk some more.’
‘Come on, Pen…’
‘Colin. I am dead serious. I want to hear you on the hotel phone.’
She had a point, so he relented. A burger with chips and a big bottle of sparkling water would be on their way up to him soon.
Pacified, she spoke again. ‘What is on your mind, Colin? Your message worried me.’
‘It’s not… I don’t really think that nobody cares about me, Pen. I know you’re my friend, I know my family loves me. But nobody cares about what I do. It’s all so stupid…’
‘Do you really think your value depends on what you do for work?’
‘No. Well… It’s not only that. Yes, the work has been bothering me. I had hoped my writing on local cooperatives around the world would add value to the typical travel advice, but the likes are so shallow. “Nice, move on.” So what. There is no engagement, no comments on my work, on these people’s work. No real support, no impact. Just a like, when even that, and scroll along, more, more content. I feel I am just feeding this monster who doesn’t care if I am there or not, who won’t even remember anything I wrote five minutes later…What is the point?’
‘And…?’
‘What?’ He was thrown by her sharp interruption.
‘You said it was not only that. Work was bothering you, but…what else?’
She paid way too much attention for his own good. Sometimes he forgot how well Penelope, his best friend since they were 8 and 10, knew him. She always listened, really listened, to what he said. That warmed him a bit. He even felt a hunger pang, finally, after ignoring his body’s complaints for hours. She sighed in his ear, and he blinked. Right.
‘Well. I don’t know, Pen. My family loves me because they need to, right? Blood and all that. But…’
‘Blood is not enough to make someone love you, Colin. I am living proof of that.’ Her tone was icy, and he felt his face warm up. Fuck. He really messed up anything he touched right now.
‘Sorry, Pen. I…I know. But it’s their fault, they are horrid. You are amazing and they don’t appreciate you. My family…well, they’re nicer than that. But… Fuck.’
‘What is it?’
‘Well, now I feel bad to bring this up with you, of all people. Your family is shit.’ That was harsh, but he knew she wouldn’t judge him for that. She felt the same. ‘Mine is not. But it’s not easy either, Pen. Not easy being amongst so many…ugh, how can I explain this?’ His head was starting to throb.
‘Your siblings are successful professionally, and you think you don’t measure up.’ Her voice had softened, a balm for his soul. ‘We’ve been through this before, Col. What you do matters.’
If his soul was pacified by her voice, his head had felt no effect yet. Pain went through it like a needle now, cutting through the throbbing, and he flinched. ‘I don’t know about that anymore. Nobody cares. No one comments anymore. There’s no community.’
‘That is a cultural thing, Colin, not a reflection of the quality of your work.’ He heard her moving around her kitchen, filling up her kettle, the click when she switched it on. It made him miss her little cosy flat, how safe he always felt there. ‘People consume content without much thought for the authors, the artists. The current format of media cheapens our work, and it’s soul crushing, but it doesn’t mean your work doesn’t matter. It will still reach someone out there who will be impacted by what you write and photograph.’
‘Maybe…’
‘Where does your family come into all that?’
Again, she didn’t lose the thread of the conversation. He shook himself. ‘Well. Even in my texts to them… Nothing. They think I am being melodramatic. They misunderstand what is hurting me. Even when I try to explain, they don’t really listen. After I started paying my own bills, Anthony stopped bitching about my travelling. Dad stopped the heartfelt conversations about “wasting my potential.” But they don’t take me seriously, it’s all drama to them.’
‘Surely not all of them.’
‘Frannie is busy with John and her studies. Even Daph was… It doesn’t matter. Whenever I complain about feeling lost, I am “too sensitive, too fragile, too dramatic.” They love their son, their brother, but roll their eyes at me whenever I feel too much. Nobody loves me for me. Nobody’s lives will change if I am not there. It will make no difference.’
Penelope gasped, and he froze. Her voice took an urgent tone, and it was suddenly louder, as if her mouth was very close to her phone. ‘What do you mean, “will change”?’
‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’ Did he? He definitely did. But Pen did not deserve the weight of that confession.
She breathed heavily on the line, little gasps muffled, and he felt terrible. He recognised that sound. He had made her cry. When she spoke, it was heavy with open sobs. ‘You ARE loved, Colin. So much. Just as you are.’
‘My family loves me, Pen, I know. But not as I am. They want me to be more–’
‘Not your family. Me. I love you. Always have.’
‘Pen–’
‘Please, let me say this. I fell in love with you when you looked up from that muddy puddle and laughed. And I never stopped. I loved every incarnation of you – the cheeky kid, the shy and gangly teenager, the suave traveller, and the lost, heartbroken version of you who left the country overnight without saying goodbye. I love you, Colin Christopher Bridgerton. MY world would collapse if you’re not in it.’
He sat up, listening to her confession but unable to really understand it. Tears ran down his face, but he couldn’t quite formulate any coherent thought in his head, let alone speak any words.
She kept letting out those devastated (and devastating) sobs on the phone for a few moments, before speaking again, her voice a tad bit less shaky now. ‘I am not saying it expecting anything in return. I never have. But I need you to know you ARE lovable. I know it because…my God, it’s so easy to love you. It’s like breathing. You are kind, you are funny, you are a beautiful soul. You deserve love and you don’t need to be or do anything else for it. You just need to be you. Be here. You need to believe me. Believe in one thing, Col. I won’t go away. I will be the friend you need, always.’
He could barely breathe. Could it be true? Could someone who impersonated light itself, someone so strong, so clever, so good, love him? How? He was…nothing. What was lovable about him to deserve her attention?
‘Pen…’ He tried, but how could he even ask her that? He didn’t know how to formulate a question that would not offend or worry her. Suddenly he wanted to fight that fog that loneliness, hunger, alcohol, and pot had created in his mind, but he had no strength left. All he wanted to do was cry.
She must have heard the tears in his voice. ‘Please don’t feel the need to answer. You don’t need to ever comment on what I’ve just told you. But I need you to know that you matter. That you are loved for just being here. That if your family doesn’t quite get your struggles with feeling valued and worthy, it says more about them, than you. Or…’ She hesitated. ‘Maybe it’s just a miscommunication there – no, I am not trying to gaslight you or justify their behaviour, I am just saying that you might not be in the best place mentally to explain yourself or to understand what they might be saying to you.’
He sniffed. Just as he was trying to think of what to say to all that, when he felt run over by a train, physically, mentally, emotionally – there was a knock on the door. Penelope must have heard, too. ‘Is that room service?’ She asked.
‘I think so. Just a sec.’
He wiped his wet and messy face with his sleeve before opening the door; the smell of food and the sight of another human being in front of him grounded him somehow. He thanked and tipped the man, and brought his tray over to the bed, where his phone was waiting. He pressed the loudspeaker. ‘My food is here.’ He didn’t want her to go; he just wanted to tell her that he was doing what she had asked of him.
‘Good. Please eat. And have some water before you go to bed. But before I go, you need to promise me you’ll sleep for a long time, no alarm clock. And the first thing you’ll do when you wake up is text me. I’ll check on you every day, Col. I hate that you’re all the way over there, all alone.’
‘I promise, Pen. I am much better already.’ He said through a mouthful of burger, and she chuckled.
‘I am glad to hear it.’ Her voice was teary again. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Anything.’
‘Can I try and find you a therapist that can see you online? If I find someone flexible enough, can you please talk to them a couple of times, see if it helps, if they’re a good fit? You need someone neutral to talk to as well, Col. It has helped me a lot. Please.’
He recognised how desperate she was for some reassurance. He really scared her tonight, and the regret weighed heavily in his heart, but he had needed her, and she was there. Heaven knew where he’d be if she hadn’t called him. ‘Sounds like a plan.’ He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He would do anything she asked of him at that moment.
‘Good.’ She was sobbing again, and he felt terrible. ‘That’s good. I promise I’ll find someone good.’
‘I am sorry, Pen. For scaring you.’
‘Colin, I swear to God, if you apologise for any of this… I am GLAD you reached out. You are loved, you are amazing. Text me first thing, whatever the time here in the UK is, do you understand?’
From her earnest tone, he knew that she would not put her phone on plane mode before going to bed. She would not put it on silent at work. He had done that, and he knew he owed it to her, to check in regularly. She did not deserve what he had thrown on her lap tonight, but she did not sound like she resented any of it. And just like that, he believed her. She loved him.