Crash

She looks just like me

The rest of the night went about as smoothly as they could have hoped for. Penelope made conversation with Charles, laughed at his jokes, held his hand. It was hard to put what she was feeling into words, and that was the problem. She wasn't really angry, nor was she heartbroken. It didn't feel the way it had in the past. Instead, she just felt sad, that the relationship she'd dreamed up in her head, where there had been this invisible string tying him to her wasn't real. She'd come to accept that it wasn't fate that they met, it was him picking someone who reminded him of Camille. That was a tough pill to swallow.

The drive home was mostly silent. Every so often she could feel Charles looking at her as she stared out the window, angling herself away from him. It was as though he could sense something was wrong and was trying to establish what. His suspicions only seemed to grow when they got home, Penelope ignoring him completely as she lit a candle in the lounge, sitting on the rug and staring out into the warmly-lit landscape of the garden.

Charles regarded her carefully as he stood by the doorway, his glasses balanced on the top of his head. "You want to watch a movie?" he asked. "Or that Australian show that you like about the weddings?"

Penelope just shook her head, still staring out the window. Charles took a breath before sitting down on the floor across from her. He tugged at the blanket lying across the sofa and draped it across her shoulders, protecting her from the evening chill. She didn't react.

"What's wrong?" he said in a voice smaller than usual.

"Nothing."

"You won't even look at me. Since you spoke to Britney, you won't even look at me."

Penelope wanted to fix things. She had to give him a chance to explain, but she was going to do it on her terms. "I'm going to ask you a question," she said quietly, still unmoving. "I want you to know it's okay to tell me the truth. That's all I want, is for you to tell me the truth."

There was something in Charles's eyes that told her he was scared. "Penelope-"

"Please do this for me. I don't want to argue, I just want to know."

He nodded. He looked so beautiful in the mellow light, the warmth illuminating his features like the heavens were shining upon him. In any other situation, she would have kissed him, wrapped her fingers in his hair as his skin pressed against hers. Part of her wondered if she should just give in, let him take her and forget about everything she'd discovered. She loved Charles, perhaps too much to let him go even if he was about to break her heart. If the answer to her question wasn't what she wanted, was she even strong enough to leave him?

"Okay, Nell. I promise I'll tell you everything."

Her heart was pounding, yet when she spoke, her words were clear and plain. "Tell me about Camille."

The second Penelope said her name, a thousand emotions flashed across his face at once. The resounding one was shock, like she was speaking a language he didn't know. Penelope just sat there, waiting patiently, knowing that this could be the last time they sat there like that, consumed by the others company.

It was as though Penelope could hear his thoughts. She watched him trying to come up with an excuse or a reason to run or a way out, but eventually his shoulders sagged and he just sighed. "Why are you asking me about Camille, Penelope, I don't understand."

"Please just answer the question, Charles."

For the first time, their eyes met. Both of them had the same sad tint, like they were veering dangerously close to something bad. However, it seemed to be enough to show him that this wasn't a conversation he could run from anymore. If he loved her, and he did, he had to show her that he wasn't afraid to tackle the hard parts, too.