I knew what was happening. It was the unscarred piece of my heart. It was just big enough to let in a bit of affection.
There was still a tiny bit of room left. “Raymond,” I said, “you can’t know how much it means to me, to have a friend—a genuine, caring friend.
“You saved my life,” I whispered, scared that tears might come, here in the café, and embarrass us both.
Now that I’d started crying in public more often, it seemed that I would do it at the drop of a hat.
Raymond squeezed my hands tighter, and I fought, and won over, the urge to whip them away and put them behind my back.
“Eleanor, don’t thank me. You’d do the same for me, you know you would.” I nodded.
To my surprise, I realized that he was right. “I remember the first time I met you,” he said, shaking his head and smiling.
“I thought you were a right nutter.” “I am a right nutter,” I said, surprised that he’d think otherwise.
All my life, people had been telling me that. “No, you’re not,” he said, smiling.
“Aye, sure, you’re a bit bonkers—but in a good way. You make me laugh, Eleanor.
You don’t give a fuck about any of the stupid stuff—I don’t know, being cool, office politics
or any of the daft shite that people are supposed to care about. You just do your own thing, don’t you?”
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