The air feels cold inside
her lungs. Everything seems washed out, despite the darkness. She
leans back against the building for support. Nearly dropping her
phone twice, she wedges it in between her shoulder and cheek, wiping
her clammy hands on her coat. It rings through to voicemail and all
the air she has been holding inside falls out.
She sits on her floor,
the walk home blurry. This wasn't supposed to happen. She writes out
a list of options, putting pros and cons next to each. It doesn't
seem to help. Pulling herself into bed, she resolves to pack in the
morning.
Light finally drifts
through the curtains. She booked her tickets some time around 4 a.m.
when she had officially given up on sleeping. Her bag is mostly
packed too. The search through her phone contacts is fruitless; she
had deleted his number weeks ago. A few embarrassing calls later and
she has it. It's still early, but there's nothing else on her mind.
The phone call was as
uncomfortable as expected. There were a lot of quiet pauses. They
agree to meet when she gets back. She will tell him then, in person.
Her parents still haven't called back. She gets through to them on
the train and tries to explain. Yes, right now. I'll call when I get
there. It's the 9:07 a.m. I'll see you later.
She opens a book and
reads the same page three times before giving up. The train is quiet
and there is nothing to be distracted by. Specific plans hadn't been
made for the other end. She will call him from the station.
He is at the platform
and she pushes her phone back into her pocket. They talk about
nothing in particular, walking round aimlessly. He brings up his new
maybe-girlfriend and asks her how she feels about it. She knows it
doesn't matter, but congratulates him nonetheless. She tells him
quickly in a fumble of words, before she can back out of it
completely. Without giving him a chance to respond, she says she
doesn't want it. Doesn't think so, anyway. His face doesn't change.
She tells him to call later when he has had time to think. Walking
away without a response, she doesn't want to wait around and watch
the process.
She realises she hasn't
called her parents. Evening has crept in and taken over the sky. She
is wrapped in a blanket on her bed, staring at the wall. Her mother
is on the end of her bed. She isn't sure how long they have been
talking. They have covered everything and more, but it still doesn't
feel like enough. Every ring puts her on edge. He hasn't called back
yet. She hopes he will.
