Let Me Be Your First (Music and Letters #1)

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  Sam gives my life purpose. I crave time with him, lavish gifts on him, and stamp down the ugly feelings of jealously towards my brother because he has made something of his life. We have a tolerable relationship. I know he is jealous of me because of my salary, and I am jealous of him because he has everything money couldn’t buy.

  Signing up to the dating website was a spur of the moment decision. Essentially, I gave no thought to it apart from keeping my fingers crossed that my background of disastrous dating experiences would come to an end.

  I didn’t expect to find you.

  I didn’t expect to fall in love without even meeting someone face to face.

  I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I just want you to know everything. I’m giving all of myself to you, no restrictions, no fears. Just me.

  You are breathing fresh life into me.

  Forever yours

  Ben

  Her profile seemed too good to be true. My dating experience had led me to be a major cynic and I quickly started to imagine worst-case scenarios just to put the brakes on any kind of happy thoughts entering my psyche. Maybe she had a tick, maybe she burped the alphabet as her party trick, or perhaps three dates down the line she would finally build up the courage to tell me she was a hermaphrodite.

  Meeting her that day injected new life into my veins. She was stunning, both inside and out. I loved to watch her mouth move, forming words and smiling just for me. I could watch her mouth for the rest of my life, and that was kind of amazing. She had a habit of pulling her lip under her teeth when she was nervous. She did that a lot on our first date. I almost placed the pad of my thumb there to feel the warmth of her, but I thought that might scare the shit out of her.

  The one before, as I liked to call him, had caused chaos. Elle’s head was fucked, but mine was a close second. I felt her slowly retreat. This woman was my destiny, so I wasn’t going to give her up without a fight.

  Until I saw him.

  I lived and breathed for her even when she wasn’t with me. Everything reminded me of her. I would struggle not to pull the phone out of my pocket to ask her how her day was, or tell her a funny story about something that had happened during the day. But I couldn’t do that as much as I wanted to.

  The one thing I was desperate to tell her was the title of the song that was playing on a loop in my car, on my computer at work, and in the background as I tried to drift off to sleep. Jake Bugg, ‘Someplace’, the song that was the soundtrack to this epic ball-ache of a chapter in my life. The hairs on my arms stood up as I took in the lyrics. A shiver passed through my spine, causing a heavy shake as I listened to the haunting voice describing a lost love returning to the comfort of a previous partner.

  I folded it up, placed it in an envelope, and slid it under the bed. Maybe one day she would read it, but only when I knew for certain that she would come back to me.

  She was everything to me.

  Apart from mine.

  Chapter Forty

  To: Ben Newman

  From: Elle Davis

  Date: 29 July at 10:56 a.m.

  Subject: Bored. Tired. Missing you.

  Dear Ben,

  Will you help break up the monotony of recovery? I don’t think I can read any more lifestyle magazines, or eat any more chocolate without disastrous consequences for my thighs. I’m a one-woman pity party at the moment. I want to join the living again, but my shoulder is having none of it.

  Hey, get me! I’m a local celebrity. I haven’t been asked to sign a copy of the paper yet, but I’m desperate for that to happen, so if you fancy popping over to indulge my fantasy…?

  I’m not addressing the elephant in the email, am I?

  I got your letter. It’s tear stained now, but I still keep it on my bedside table. I use it as an aid to sleep because I’m usually exhausted after reading it…

  I’m sorry you had to meet Luke like that. He really had no business being at the hospital.

  Abi told me about your chat after she managed to remove the foot from her mouth. Yes, I did see him the day of our first date. I was taking a breather beside the river and he came to talk about his dad. I can’t suddenly change who I am as a person. I wanted to offer him some support, but at the same time, it doesn’t mean I want him.

  That chapter has ended.

  Does that change anything for you?

  Just think about that for me, OK?

  I can’t promise an instant fairy tale. All I know for sure is that I miss you and I would love to hear from you.

  It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it? All in the same day, I managed to get stabbed, lose my passion for my job, and potentially lose the love of my life. I just wanted you to know how supremely talented I am…

  Yours (if you still want me)

  Elle

  PS, I turned twenty-five last week. You owe me a birthday card.

  It’s funny how a sharp blade to the shoulder and a few weeks off work can give you clarity.

  I was slowly being driven mad by Mum’s incessant need to take my pulse, check my temperature, and offer me various pills and potions. It had developed from checking I hadn’t died from my injuries, to checking I hadn’t died of boredom.

  She was being wonderfully Mum. I mean that in the nicest way possible. She worried, she dithered, she worried some more. She fell back into her nurturing role with ease. Most of all, she sat with me and talked. Just talked. Early hours of the morning, late afternoon, after I had woken from a nap, and midnight when the pain threatened to consume me. We avoided the topics of Luke, Ben, and work for as long as she could stand. The morning she sat down with a pot of coffee, twelve crumpets and a giant Toblerone was the morning I knew we were in for a few home truths.

  You know what? It helped. She didn’t judge my journey from naïve virgin and neurotic new-girlfriend. She listened without interruption when I told her that despite hating Luke’s flaws, I accepted them and hoped I could have cured him with love. She nodded in acceptance when I told her I was pushing away what I had always wanted. Through all the heavy, dense fog, she helped me to accept that Luke’s love was half-hearted and tepid. Everything about it was offhand, wrong, and difficult, but that was OK. It was sad, but it was an experience, my experience, and it was life in all its extremes.

  Work was a different subject entirely. I felt vulnerable and de-skilled, but I was willing to build up my confidence.

  ‘Elle Davis, you are a fucking disgrace. Two weeks off work for that tiny scratch. What a lightweight.’ Abi breezed through the door like a rainbow after the grey of the rain.

  ‘Thank God! I need your smart mouth. I’m so bored. Tell me something. Anything,’ I pleaded as she grappled with a hug, trying not to hurt me. ‘What have you been up to, lady? Tell me some bedtime stories.’ I smiled at her as she pushed a stack of magazines towards me.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell. I haven’t been out since you’ve been MIA.’ She slid a card across the table and dived into the box of chocolates my brother had given me.

  Dear Best Friend of Mine,

  I love you. You understand me. You are strange in a fantastically brilliant way. I know all your secrets, including the night you told me you cheated when we did a sponsored 24-hour fast for Save the Children by hiding a sausage roll and a multipack of Wispas in your bra. I’m not letting that one go—ever.

  We don’t need men. Let’s grow old together.

  Love, your soul mate

  Abi

  ‘I told you that in complete confidence.’ I smiled as she fidgeted with the various birthday and get well soon cards on the windowsill, pretending to read the verses.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. I knew when she had something on her mind. She started twirling her long brown hair around her fingers, drawing attention to the blood-red nail varnish on her fingernails.

  ‘I’ve just been thinking. With you nearly dying on me and with all of the changes at work, it’s just got me all stressy.’ Her eyes were glassy and she absentmi
ndedly wiggled her nose with her fingers in an attempt to either postpone a sneeze or delay a good cry. ‘I sent him another letter. He didn’t fucking respond. Nothing. Not even a don’t bother, I’ve moved on postcard.’

  She held her fingers across her mouth, stifling a sob. I couldn’t bear to see her like that, so I stood up and opened my arms out to her. She crashed into me in a collection of sobs and whimpers. I couldn’t say anything else other than I was sorry and it would be OK. But I knew it was meaningless. I knew they were just words that people offered when they didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘I don’t know what to do. All that crap about if it’s meant to be. I should have pleaded for him to stay. I should have begged him. Fuck, Elle. I made the biggest mistake.’

  I held her as she sobbed, her whole body jerking as she tried to get the words out through her cries.

  ‘I’m just wasting my time. Just existing. I thought all the men and the one-night stands would fill the gap he left, but I just feel disgusting. How could I do that to myself? To him? To us?’

  She continued crying in my arms as I stroked her hair. ‘You’ve only done what you thought would help. You’ve just reacted to the pain. Shush, come on.’

  She held her hand over her face and continued to cry.

  ‘I need to stop. This isn’t me. I don’t cry over men. Not anymore.’ She tried to laugh, but it spilled out into another round of uncontrollable sobbing. ‘You know, I started crying the night I left the hospital and fucked it up between you and Ben. And with one thing or another, I haven’t stopped since. What have you done to me? I’m broken.’

  We broke our hug and I smiled as I passed her a wodge of tissues. She took a steadying deep breath and returned the smile. I knew she had been hurt. She thought she had hidden it well, but we were so intrinsically entwined that I felt her pain deep in my own chest just as she had felt mine.

  We sat and held each other, listening to each other’s stories, airing our regrets, and trying to let go of the pain that had consumed us. She reluctantly updated the soundtrack of her life after listening to a hundred and one songs before we finally settled on ‘Elastic Heart’ by Sia. It couldn’t have been a more perfect song for Abi. Sia sang about finding love after enduring heartbreak and pain. You could hear the anguish in her voice. The emotion trembled through the song like leaves dancing through a breeze. It was haunting. I couldn’t listen to it without my heart shrivelling and crisping like a flower without water.

  Sitting side by side, feeling totally relaxed and happy, I questioned my search for love. Maybe Abi was right. Maybe I had already found my soul mate in her. I loved her unconditionally. I had lived vicariously through her for the last few years. I accepted and appreciated our differences, embraced our eccentricities, and had a fun ride along the way. She had taught me to laugh, influenced my decision to take risks, and above all, supported me through the good and bad times. Wasn’t that a perfect recipe for a long lasting relationship?

  ‘You know, Luke Simms was punching way above his weight with you,’ she said as we listened to the final bars of her newly titled anthem.

  ‘You would say that even if he was dating Gigi Hadid!’ I laughed.

  ‘I hope he gets some terrible disease and his dick drops off.’

  ‘OK, if we’re going there, I wish that for Jamie Dawson too.’

  ‘Oh good God, no! His dick is too perfect for that. He’s the ultimate cockateer. It would be a travesty to womankind,’ she said as we lay stretched out on the floor of my bedroom. I looked across at her and started to laugh.

  As Mum checked in to see where the laughter was coming from, she broke her resolve and the three of us huddled in together for a recovery hug.

  ‘In light of the shitstorm that is my life, don’t you think you should learn some lessons from me?’ Abi gestured towards me, pointing a chicken drumstick as we sat in the kitchen watching Mum pull trays out of the oven. Anyone would think she was throwing a street party with the amount of food she was shoving in our direction.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about sexy Ben and his panty-dropping eyes,’ Abi continued.

  ‘Oh yes, panty-dropping is the only way to describe those eyes of his,’ Mum growled as she stuffed a bell pepper.

  ‘Mum, for God’s sake!’

  ‘What? It’s better than saying he’s got a tight package. Don’t think I didn’t notice,’ she said, moving her hand to high five Abi.

  ‘Linda, she wouldn’t know.’ Abi winked as she returned the gesture, the clap of their hands making me jump.

  ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t even get that far. You’re no daughter of mine,’ she said, sighing in irritation. This made Abi chuckle for the first time in half an hour, so I had to let it slip.

  ‘OK, in all seriousness, I think you need to contact Ben. You need to explain what happened with fucknugget, and then you need to grab on to Ben with both hands and never let him go. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Promise me.’ Abi had a look in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. They were full of regret and begging me to listen. I heard everything she was saying loud and clear.

  It had taken me a trauma, a separation, and time to acknowledge that life wasn’t actually empty without a partner to share it with. However, when Ben came into my life, he’d brought a new light. I had written chapters before him. His presence simply illuminated them. The writing was already there but needed to be noticed, picked out and framed.

  ‘I’ve emailed him. I thought that was better than text. I had to explain. I needed him to know. At least that way he can make his own mind up. God knows I’ve messed him around. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t reply,’ I said shyly, embarrassed that I had pushed him away so easily.

  ‘That’s good. You’ve done the right thing,’ Mum said as she stood behind me draping her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. Abi smiled and nodded her head in full agreement with my confession.

  ‘I love that you’ve emailed him. Why divert from the method of communication that brought you together in the first place? Genius. This would make an amazing romcom,’ Abi said, stabbing an olive on a cocktail stick.

  ‘That depends on the outcome,’ I muttered.

  What if he doesn’t reply? What if I’ve pushed him too far?

  ‘I need him in my life, Abi.’

  ‘He’ll come.’ She leant over to kiss my cheek, grabbing the side of my head with her hand. ‘So, when will we see you back at work?’

  ‘I can’t imagine ever going back,’ I sighed. ‘How will I cope after this?’ I looked down to my scar as she took my hands in hers.

  ‘You love it, Elle. Social work is in your bones. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but you’ll get there,’ she said. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘What exactly is a fucknugget?’

  ‘I don’t know where it came from, but I guess it means a colossal dick, a cockatit—’

  ‘A wanking cock knocker. A spunk trumpet of epic proportions!’

  ‘No. He’s a cockwomble,’ I nodded in triumph.

  ‘That’s brilliant. God, he’s such a fucking cockwomble.’

  When Abi left, loaded with macaroons and pasta salad that Mum had packed in twelve different sized Tupperware boxes, I opened my emails.

  To: Elle Davis

  From: Ben Newman

  Date: 29 July at 6:23 p.m.

  Subject: Hey.

  Dear Elle,

  Yes, it changes everything.

  It’s time to say I’ve been an idiot.

  Always yours

  Ben

  Chapter Forty-One

  An email from an incredible guy you can see being a big part of your future should be available on prescription. I decided then and there that I was going to write a blog called Understanding Endorphins and their Importance in Pain Management. Pass me the shot-put. I am ready for the Olympics!

  After the email, I didn’t get a chance to reply before my phone flashed, indicating that I ha
d received a message.

  Ben: Hey…

  Me: Hey!

  Ben: I’ve gone from feeling like life has no colour or purpose without you to pretty crazily happy all in the space of the time it takes to send an email.

  Me: I’ve missed you…

  Ben: Me too. How weird is this? My mate Carl and his girlfriend have just leased this deli. They open next week. Small world. Now, where is my coat?

  With that message, he attached a picture of the vacant deli we saw that night we kissed in the pouring rain underneath his coat.

  Ben: How’s the patient?

  Me: Irritable

  Ben: I’ve been thinking about you. A lot. All the time. Every minute of every day. I even dream about you. There’s been no escape.

  Me: I’m sorry

  Ben: So…Your ex is a nice guy, huh?

  Me: Let’s not talk about him. He isn’t important.

  Ben: Can I see you?

  Me: Yes, I would love that

  Ben: How about a break from the boredom? My treat.

  Me: OK, but I look terrible!

  Ben: You are always abso-fucking-lutely stunning!!

  Me: I’m not joking. I haven’t showered for a week…

  Ben: Need some help?

  Me: Don’t push your luck

  Ben: Spoilsport. See you tomorrow?

  Ouch! The Olympics could wait another year. I was happy to put it on hold and pack away the shot-put. I hadn’t thought this through very well. I remembered why I hadn’t washed my hair since the morning of the attack. The pain in my shoulder felt like an avalanche of boiling lava was descending across my bones. I even had to bite down on a hairbrush to complete the menial task of tying my hair back. Bugger, why did I agree to see him?