Me Before You
Page 129
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I’m not really telling you to jump off tall buildings, or swim with whales or anything (although I would secretly love to think you were), but to live boldly. Push yourself. Don’t settle. Wear those stripy legs with pride. And if you insist on settling down with some ridiculous bloke, make sure some of this is squirrelled away somewhere. Knowing you still have possibilities is a luxury. Knowing I might have given them to you has alleviated something for me.
So this is it. You are scored on my heart, Clark. You were from the first day you walked in, with your ridiculous clothes and your bad jokes and your complete inability to ever hide a single thing you felt. You changed my life so much more than this money will ever change yours.
Don’t think of me too often. I don’t want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well.
Just live.
Love,
Will
A tear had plopped on to the rickety table in front of me. I wiped at my cheek with my palm, and put the letter down on the table. It took me some minutes to see clearly again.
‘Another coffee?’ said the waiter, who had reappeared in front of me.
I blinked at him. He was younger than I had thought, and had dropped his faint air of haughtiness. Perhaps Parisian waiters were trained to be kind to weeping women in their cafes.
‘Maybe … a cognac?’ He glanced at the letter and smiled, with something resembling understanding.
‘No,’ I said, smiling back. ‘Thank you. I’ve … I’ve got things to do.’
I paid the bill, and tucked the letter carefully into my pocket.
And stepping out from behind the table, I straightened my bag on my shoulder and set off down the street towards the parfumerie and the whole of Paris beyond.
So this is it. You are scored on my heart, Clark. You were from the first day you walked in, with your ridiculous clothes and your bad jokes and your complete inability to ever hide a single thing you felt. You changed my life so much more than this money will ever change yours.
Don’t think of me too often. I don’t want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well.
Just live.
Love,
Will
A tear had plopped on to the rickety table in front of me. I wiped at my cheek with my palm, and put the letter down on the table. It took me some minutes to see clearly again.
‘Another coffee?’ said the waiter, who had reappeared in front of me.
I blinked at him. He was younger than I had thought, and had dropped his faint air of haughtiness. Perhaps Parisian waiters were trained to be kind to weeping women in their cafes.
‘Maybe … a cognac?’ He glanced at the letter and smiled, with something resembling understanding.
‘No,’ I said, smiling back. ‘Thank you. I’ve … I’ve got things to do.’
I paid the bill, and tucked the letter carefully into my pocket.
And stepping out from behind the table, I straightened my bag on my shoulder and set off down the street towards the parfumerie and the whole of Paris beyond.
