Adapted from author David Nicholls' critically acclaimed novel of the same name, director Lone Scherfig's One Day stars Anne Hathaway as a principled working-class girl who forges a unique bond with a wealthy jet-setter that spans two decades. [ Source: IMDb]

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FFANC: One day Nathan Callahan might have to tell the truth.

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Chapter nineteen : One day

Ever since I was a kid, my mother had been busy. She was the only source of income in our house. Though we were only two people, it didn't mean we were doing well financially. So she needed her job. It was important to her to get as good at it as possible.

She would leave at irregular hours. She'd tutor people. She'd take classes anywhere she could. She was good at chemistry. So anywhere there was a chance for her to apply it, she'd. Because I was a kid, I couldn't tell you the details. But all I knew was she would leave me at home every day for her job.

The only few days she'd stay at home were over the weekends and holidays.

So, I soon figured out another thing that would keep her at home. It was if only I were sick.

And now I was. I was sick, and instead of my mother, there was this guy sitting on my couch pretending to read a book he would never even look at if it wasn't there. I wondered why.

So I asked him.

“Nathan.”

He didn't meet my eyes. He acted like he didn't hear me.

“If this was about the project, you could have just texted. I could pick up the scrunchie any time I went over to your house.”

There was a bit of silence before he replied, “I thought you'd never come back again.”

Nathan whispered while keeping his eyes trained on the writing. It almost felt like he was using the book as an excuse so he wouldn't have to meet my eyes.

I swallowed.

I would have gone back to his house. Because I was that sort of loser.

I gulped down my emotions. I thought back to everything he did for me today. It was making my heart press on my ribcage, an uncomfortable weight making its existence known. Even though I was acting like a bitch, every time he turned away from me, my eyes welled up.

I was weak, vulnerable, and literally at my worst, and he was taking care of me. The sentiment wasn't lost on me.

Oh no, the sentiment was turned tenfold because of my raging hormones.

“You could have just asked,” I said, my voice breaking.

Nathan finally looked at me, “I know I told you to stay that night. But I didn't expect to…expect to wake up right next to you like that.”

I remembered the way we were holding each other.

“I guess you were startled,” I shrugged, trying to joke, “Guess you got offended seeing my face first thing in the morning.”

“Emi-” Nathan stopped and corrected himself, and I winced, recalling I had told him not to call me by my name, “Kingsley, I’m sorry. That's not it at all. That's not why I-”

“It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I'll be there next Friday,” I shrugged. “I guess you got used to having a study partner, right?”

Nathan kept staring at me. I wanted to make this easy for him. He didn't need to lie to nurse my feelings.

“Besides, if I woke up right next to you in my bed,” I said, “no matter how good you look, I would've probably screamed.”

I hoped he would take the bait and say something witty about me calling him good-looking and stuff.

But he didn't.

“If you only knew,” Nathan sighed.

I didn't push for what I needed to know.

He placed his hand over my forehead as I closed my eyes. His touch was so heartbreakingly gentle that it almost made me rack a sob. He was simply checking my temperature. Yet the gesture was nice. He cared about me enough to want to know.

I always wanted to hug my mother when she was around, get close to her, and stay cocooned in her warmth. But my emotions were all lost when other priorities took over.

And my father was never there.

Maybe this was why I was so love-starved. Maybe this was why I craved physical touch; it was my love language.

This was why there seemed to be a longing somewhere deep inside me, etched into my bones. The screams building inside me, Give me love. Love me, please.

I guess I tried to salvage that craving by stuffing myself with stories about other people in love. I kept reading book after book, watching movie after movie; but that craving, that longing, it just never went away.

My mother was amazing. She brought me up all by herself. She gave me everything I needed. But she didn't sit by my bedside when I was sick. She never sang me a lullaby. She didn't tell me nighttime stories or hold my hand when I was scared. It was always me chasing after her, trying to get close to her while she left me for work.

Now I was close to crying when a boy touched my forehead.

Now I replayed that moment again and again, every time I closed my eyes when he was wrapped around me, cocooning me in his sleep.

“I guess I’m fine,” I murmured. My eyes were still closed. The last thing I wanted to do now was burst out crying. “You should go now.”

“Yeah, probably should,” Nathan said. I felt him stand up. He wrapped the blanket around me and tucked me in.

He probably picked up his backpack from the recliner next. Then I heard his footsteps go away from the living room, towards the foyer, towards the front door.

“Get well soon, Kingsley,” he said from there.

Stay.

Don't go.

Don't leave me.

I'm weak and vulnerable and lovesick, and all I want is for someone to hold me, love me, or maybe simply stay beside me.

Stay.

Stay.

Stay.

Why do we always say what we don't mean?

I heard him swinging the door shut.

I opened my eyes and let my tears roll.

Then there was another sound.

The door swung open. I jolted up from the couch, forgetting the tears on my face, and looked at him standing near the door.

“It's raining outside. I can't go home,” Nathan shrugged as he came in. He closed the door behind him.

I quickly wiped my tears and tried to look out through the window. It was definitely not raining outside. I could see clear sunshine, but Nathan came around fast and blocked my view.

“Why are you up? Go to sleep.”

He plopped down on the couch, took my feet over his lap, picked up the book from the coffee table, and settled down like he had no intention to move.

I wasn't going to call him out on his lie, his lousy excuse of rain. Because Nathan Callahan was choosing to stay.

He was going to stay.

I swallowed as my throat felt thick. Instead of making any sound that would give away my emotions, I simply laid down and closed my eyes.

*****

When I woke up again, it was dark outside. The faint residual light of the sunset was all around the sky. The living room was quiet, apart from the sound of my own breathing. Someone had turned off the TV.

I sat up gingerly, stretching and moving my limbs. I felt way better than I had all day. I had a little bad breath, but other than that, I felt fresh and rested.

I had already pushed off the blanket. So I picked it off the floor. I turned the photo frame back to its position. Then I saw the book and a note sticking out of it.

I turned on the lights as I headed upstairs to my room. I pulled out the note as I sat on my bed.

Kingsley,

Sorry, I had to leave before you woke up. You were snoring very peacefully and I saw no reason to disturb you. I had to go before your mother came and saw a stranger in her living room. Get well soon and come back to school before Mr. Wong starts to miss you.

- Callahan

I smiled to myself for no reason. Then I went to the washroom. As I went to the sink and thought of brushing my teeth, I glanced at my reflection.

Then I almost screamed.

No, it wasn't about how horrible I looked or the pimple. Oh no. It was the scribbling over one side of my face, on my right cheek.

It said ‘pretty’ in a big, bold letters right in the middle of my cheek, with rays around it. Then there was random stuff drawn all around. I went closer to the mirror and recognized them one by one. A whisk, a skull face, a tomato, an ice cream cone, and then there was even a flower.

Nathan Callahan had used my face for doodling.

He had done that with the same pen he had written the note with. I could just tell when he got the idea. As he was writing the note, he probably looked over at me and then at his pen. Then he got to work.

It was a wonder I had slept through it all.

I scrubbed my face vigorously. But some of the remains weren't going away.

I groaned and picked up my phone.

Me: YOU ARE SO DEAD CALLAHAN

Nathan: I thought that was you

He replied almost immediately, as if he were waiting for my text.

And then he said he didn't have my number.

Me: Why the hell would you do this

I put my phone down and tried to wipe off the big ‘P’ from the “pretty”.

Nathan: you were saying something stupid about not feeling pretty so now I hope you'll remember every time you look in the mirror

I didn't know why I did what I did next. I angled my phone and took a selfie of my half-scrubbed, reddened face with the pimple and the doodles and sent it to him.

Me: I look so pretty I wanna die looking at myself

Nathan: that's more like it, Kingsley. That's the spirit

Me: I feel so lucky what can I say

Nathan: yes because I doodled on your face only

Me: you bitch

Nathan: I am a blessing

I broke into a laugh as I shook my head. I heard the jingle of keys from downstairs and assumed it might be Mom. I washed my face as best as I could before heading downstairs.

Mom was carrying some sort of bowl and pouring steaming soup into it. I went towards the dining room.

“What's that for?” I asked, looking down at it.

“That's for you,” she said, “Has your fever gone down?”

I stared at her dumbly. Mom checked my temperature and then went away to freshen herself.

I sighed as I sat down to have dinner. I had a mind to look at the kitchen and caught no sign of the fact that Nathan had cooked there today. The bowl I had eaten from was nowhere to be found either. I checked the sink for it. Then I found it with the other clean bowls.

He must have cleaned and washed everything before leaving.

I tried to keep my breathing steady as I finished my soup.

The next day, when I came back to school, my friends surrounded me. I rolled my eyes at them as we walked down the hallway. I had told them I had a fever, and then they had gone back to the conversation they were having.

The conversation everyone else was having.

It was about Prom.

Prom was next week.

That information knotted my stomach into coils. I remembered what I had said to my friends: the only way I would come to prom was if I had a date.

The truth was I'd love to go to Senior Prom. The venue for Senior Prom and Junior Prom was different. Senior Prom would be held in the town hall, whereas Junior Prom would be at the school gym.

Out of the two, of course, Senior Prom would be the more glamorous and organized one. At lunch, Malti told us Principal Hayden had no plans to hold Junior Prom. He only agreed to it at the last minute because Cycreak was doing it.

It was going to be lackluster. But that hadn’t dampened anyone's enthusiasm. The girls would go dress shopping after class today together, and all of them turned to me, asking again if I wanted to go.

I knew the drill. I would go with them, pick out a lovely prom dress, give in to their desire, and come to prom with a sad, lonely face. I'd rather not go at all.

It sounded very wrong, I knew that. Like I didn't want to have fun with my friends. None of my friends had a date, so why was it such a big deal to me?

Because I had always dreamed about it. Because Prom was probably in every book I had ever read. It was the big event. It was when the girl wore the dress the color of the date’s eye. It was when big things happened. The magical dancing. The confessions of love. Sometimes even the breakups.

It was the peak of high school romance.

And I couldn't believe it, I had no one who'd ask me out.

I had dreams about prom, and those dreams weren't going to be fulfilled.

I stayed distracted all day as we shuffled from class to class. My friends kept asking me if I wanted to go dress shopping with them. I refused every time and retreated more into myself.

Finally, it was chemistry.

I was on my stool. I had all day to think about this. So I took a deep breath and rehearsed what I was about to say.

Nathan Callahan walked into the room. He saw me and smirked.

It was go time.

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