by R. J. Groves
I can’t say I was surprised when I received his message asking me to meet him. It was something we’d always done – out-of-the-blue decisions of seeing each other when it hadn’t been planned. Usually, it ended up being a surprise date, some exciting news, or something eventful and unexpected. How was I supposed to know that this time would be different?
“We need to talk,” he replied, straight-faced and hesitant.
“Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, my dear, we are talking,” I said, putting my arms around his neck in a gentle embrace.
“No, we need to talk,” he said. He removed my arms from the embrace and placed them by my side, unamused at my feeble and childish attempt at humour. “We can’t keep doing this.”
~x o x~
The tears continued streaming down my face, and I felt my body heaving and shaking uncontrollably. I tried to stop this memory – this nightmare – from replaying in my mind, but it was persistent and unstoppable. My flashback continued to torture me, no matter what I did. When I opened my eyes, it was still there, clear in my vision. When I tossed about, yelling at it to go away, it only grew stronger. When I thrived for a relief from this haunting memory, my heart continued to break.
I don’t know how long I was trapped in that moment, or why it seemed to drag on forever. I only hoped that perhaps the only person that could relieve me of this moment would be here soon.
I heard my front door unlock, opening and closing in one swift movement. Light footsteps trekked through the hallway, took long strides up the stairs, and my door abruptly opened, left to close by itself. My best friend was on the floor, leaning against my bed, pulling me into an embrace – resting my head in her lap – whispering to me that I was going to be all right.
I swallowed a mouthful of fresh, hot coffee, scalding my mouth in doing so. I placed the full take-away cup down on the table and sighed. It had been a long morning, and I was already exhausted. I took a bite out of my sub and looked at my best friend sitting directly across from me. She had her long, straight brown hair up in a ponytail, trailing down the middle of her back. Her fringe framed her face, enhancing her hazel eyes and flawless skin. Finishing her sub and taking another sip of her coffee, she looked over at me, then down at my plate.
“Emma,” she said.
Aimee looked as exhausted as I felt, but her eyes were full of concern. She sighed.
“Em, you need to eat,” she continued. “I know you don’t feel like it, but you haven’t eaten at all today, and it’s now after two.”
Out of habit, I glanced at the time on my phone. She was right. While I put my phone back on the table, Aimee was sorting out the bags of clothes, gifts, ornaments and makeup that she had accrued whilst shopping. I looked down at my feet – nothing. I pushed my plate towards her and took another sip of my coffee.
“I’m not hungry,” I said.
She frowned.
“Emma, please have at least one more bite,” she pleaded.
She had a habit of doing this – forcing me to eat at least one more bite before eating my food herself. Aimee was much like a sister to me – the sister I never had – and was always there for me no matter what. I gave in, taking another small bite from my sub, and pushed the plate closer to her. She sighed and finished eating my barely-touched lunch.
After Aimee finished eating and we had both drained our cups from the delicious coffee, she rose to her feet to continue shopping. She sighed again.
“Emma, you still haven’t bought anything,” she said.
“I haven’t found anything I wanted,” I replied.
This was partly true, in a way. The truth was that I hadn’t been looking for anything I wanted. I was too busy sulking in silence over what I should be getting over – what I should be releasing myself from. I held a tear back so as not to cry in public. Again. Aimee seemed to notice. Immediately, she walked closer to me, her multitude of bags in her hands.
“All right, come on. We’re going,” she said, her voice sounding slightly different. Annoyance?
“Where are we going?” I asked, confused. Her mother wasn’t supposed to pick us up until sometime around four.
“We’re going to buy you something,” she replied. “Now come on, we haven’t got all day!” she added jokingly.
I couldn’t resist the smile that was eager to get out. I barely had enough time to grab my purse and phone off the table before she had hold of my arm, dragging me in the direction of more shops.
“This will do,” she said, dragging me into another shop.
I glanced up at the sign above the door – Made Brave. I’ve never seen this shop before. I looked around at the beautiful clothing that were all different shades of black and white. I picked up a tank top – black with white polka-dots, a black belt just below the chest. On the next bench over were white denim shorts.
“Aimee, look at these!” I called.
Aimee rushed over, laying the two pieces of clothing on the bench together.
“Wow, Em, these are gorgeous! Are you going to get them?” she said.
“If they have my size,” I said.
I looked for my size but couldn’t find them on the bench.
“Here they are.” This voice did not belong to Aimee.
Surprised, we both turned around.
“Renée! What are you doing here?” It was Aimee who spoke.
“I work here. Do you need help with anything?” she asked, handing the clothes to me.
Aimee glanced towards me, her expression silently asking me if we needed anything else from the tall redhead. I shook my head.
“Can I just get these?” I asked.
“Definitely. Come this way,” she replied with a smile on her face, leading us to the end of the shop. Aimee grabbed a pair of each for herself.
After paying, we turned to leave. Aimee was satisfied that I had finally bought something. Something that I was happy with and thought looked nice, that could take my mind off of him – a distraction.
΅ ΅ ΅
I sat silently at the dining table, staring at the plate full of food in front of me as I fiddled with the stainless-steel fork in my hand. I moved a few peas to the other side of the plate and placed the fork delicately over the carrot pieces, resting both my hands in my lap. My mother looked over at me and sighed.
“Renée, sweetie, you need to eat,” she said, placing her cutlery together on the empty plate in front of her. I continued staring at the untouched steak and pile of vegetables still on my plate.
“I’m not hungry,” I replied. “Can I be excused?”
I looked up into the eager green eyes belonging to the woman sitting on my right. Her solemn face alternated between my own face and the plate of food in front of me. She sighed again, releasing a slight nod. I rose to my feet, gathering my plate and glass, and carried them over to the kitchen sink, not sparing a glance behind me before walking slowly and silently up the stairs and into my bedroom. I quietly closed my door and laid on my bed.
Staring at the ceiling, I thought about my day. I woke up a bit late this morning, skipping breakfast so I wouldn’t be late for my first day of work. It was a busy day today. I had to do a lot of organising and folding clothes, handling sales and running errands.
I was surprised to see Emma and Aimee there, though. I often thought about the two of them and the friendship they shared. The only time I could see them separated was in chemistry, which Emma took and Aimee didn’t. I thought that maybe they wouldn’t be with each other on weekends since they were with each other all through the week.
How wrong I was about that.
My thoughts drifted from the girls to the week I had just survived. My first week at Leverand High was nothing like I had expected. I had thought that it was going to be just like every other school I had been to, where no one talked to me outside of teasing or being rude. I was left alone with books and silence being my best friends, then arriving home to cry on my brother’s shoulder and never having a single friend at
school to talk to. This is what I’d expected, so this is what I had braced myself for.
I wasn’t prepared for Emma and Aimee talking to me before school even started. I was surprised when they wanted to show me around and welcomed me into their group. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be nice to me, and I wasn’t expecting to get what I wasn’t prepared for. Instead of rivals, I found friends. Instead of books and silence, I had someone to talk to.
I soon found myself thinking about the black-haired eighteen-year-old boy who helped me feel welcome on my first day. We had gotten to know each other a bit since I’d come to Leverand High. I could tell that we were developing a friendship that I would not let go of easily. But no matter how hard I tried, I would never give in. I would persevere to make this a good friendship to have. I remembered what Emma told me on my first day.
Don’t listen to him. Don’t believe him. Don’t trust him. Don’t give him the time of day. You’ll regret it if you do.
But it wasn’t just a statement. There was more to it. I just hadn’t been able to place my finger on it. A trace of sadness? Of hurt, maybe? Regret? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know why she didn’t like him; he seemed nice enough. I would have thought she might think he was attractive, maybe even boyfriend material. I thought about this a bit over the last week. Thought about it. I hadn’t done anything about it.
I wanted to know why there was tension between them, particularly in the soccer match the day before. Maybe she was wrong about him. I wanted to know, but I didn’t think my friendship with either Emma or Kane was strong enough for either of them to tell me. I guessed that it was just something I would have to wait to know.
I rolled over onto my side, closing my eyes. I hadn’t eaten much at all today, or over the past week. I just wasn’t feeling hungry; I never did when I felt sick. At first, I thought it was nerves – starting afresh at a new school, a new workplace, a new life. But now, I wasn’t so sure. My stomach made a noise, my hand instinctively reaching up to cover my mouth. Anything I’d eaten or drunk that day left me feeling like it would come back up again. I felt a small bead of sweat roll gently down my forehead as I heard a quiet knock on my door and the familiar creaking as it opened slowly. My brother walked through, closing the white door behind him.
I kept my eyes shut, concentrating on not throwing up. I heard footsteps walking towards me and felt the slight rocking of my bed as my brother sat down next to me. I felt the gentle, cool touch of his hand resting on my arm as he leaned in closer to see if I was awake. I forced my eyes open a tiny bit.
“Renée, are you all right?” he asked, concern written all over his face.
“I feel sick,” I replied, trying to sit up a bit.
He moved a little to give me more room, placed his hand on my back, and began drawing patterns with his fingers.
Fayne and I have always been close. I remembered when we were little, how we used to always play with each other’s toys and only felt bored and sometimes upset when the other wasn’t at home. In the park, we could never be found alone with other kids. Instead, we would take turns pushing each other on the swings. Our arguments are unlike those that other siblings have. They were never heated and always resulted in a battle of wrestles. He usually won.
Everyone has a relationship with their siblings, but we had a friendship as well. He had always been the one to hold me when I was hurt or upset. He always found a way to make me smile, no matter how I felt or what mood I was in. I could talk to him about anything and everything, knowing that he would understand. Fayne always has been, and always will be, my best friend.
“But you normally still eat at least something when you feel sick,” he stated. “You barely touched your dinner.”
“I’m not hungry,” I sighed, leaning my head on his perfectly shaped shoulder.
“You already said that at the table,” he said.
I looked into his face. His teasing eyes and crooked smile forced a weak smile to appear on my face. He glanced at his watch.
“I told Mum I was going to check on you for a few minutes before helping her with the dishes,” he said. “She’ll be waiting for me.”
He rose to his feet.
“Thanks,” I said as he reached the door, turning around before walking through.
“Rest up, little sis.”
Chapter 4
It’s not just physiological, it’s psychological.
I leaned back, sighing, against Aimee’s bedhead. My head was hurting and my hand was cramped from writing for so long. Last night, after returning to her place after shopping, Aimee and I spent the night watching movies – both horror and comedy. Sometime before the end of one of the comedies, we both fell asleep on the couch until mid-morning. After waking up, we relocated to her room where we sat on her bed talking and attempting to do assignments with our weary minds.
I closed my eyes, feeling the breeze from Aimee’s fan blowing the heat away from us as best it could on an unusually hot day. Thankfully, being 2:30pm, the heat had reached its maximum. I opened my eyes, my thoughts being startled by Aimee’s printer.
“I am finally done,” she said, stretching. Looking at the time, she sighed. “It’s only taken me five hours to complete.”
“Well, if we hadn’t been talking most of that time,” I laughed. “Maybe it would have only taken three.”
“Ha! I think I would have fallen asleep if we weren’t talking,” she scoffed, leaning back next to me.
We heard a nudging against her bedroom door, and Aimee got up to open it. As soon as the door was open, Aimee’s spaniel rushed in, running a loop around the desk chair before jumping up onto the bed and into my lap.
“Hey, Baby,” I said, stroking her beautiful, patchy coat. “You didn’t wake me up this morning.”
Baby was a very energetic dog. Whenever I stayed the night at Aimee’s, I would wake up with dog slobber on my hand and Baby’s nose against my cheek. As soon as Aimee sat back down on the bed, Baby was on top of her, licking her face.
“Baby, stop it!” Aimee cried helplessly, unable to prevent herself from laughing.
Baby jumped off the bed and ran out the door, returning shortly after with her bright red leash in her mouth.
Time for a walk! we could almost hear her say.
Obediently and absentmindedly, Aimee and I climbed off the bed, ready for the walk.
΅ ΅ ΅
“Née, wake up,” Fayne said, shaking me awake, his voice eager.
“What do you want?” I moaned, rolling onto my stomach.
My head spun and I felt queasy. Great, I thought. I still feel sick. Fayne pushed the blankets off me and grabbed hold of my ankles. His hands felt cool, and I felt hot and clammy.
“You slept in. If you don’t get up now, I will drag you out of bed,” he said.
“You wouldn’t,” I said, pulling a pillow over the back of my head to block out all light.
I felt his long fingers tighten around my ankles.
“I would,” he replied, dragging me off my bed and onto the floor.
“Fayne!” I yelled, throwing my pillow at him, flinching in pain as it left my hand. My left hand grasped my stomach and my right hand reached up to cover my mouth. Fayne’s face grew serious as he fell down to his knees beside me.
“Née? Renée, what’s wrong?” he said.
I shook my head, unable to speak from the horrible feeling I had inside and unable to move from the pain within my stomach. A large tear escaped my eyes and ran down my cheek.
“Renée, are you hurt?” he moved closer to me, putting his hand on my knee.
I nodded, another tear escaping.
“Can you get up?” he asked.
I built up enough courage to move my hands and attempt to stand, only to cry in failure, returning to my original curled-up position. My brother rose to his feet, lifting me carefully in his arms and laying me gently down on my bed. He held my face between his hands, looking me in the eyes.
“Renée, I’m going to
ring Mum, okay? Don’t move,” he said, his eyes demanding that I acknowledge his statement.
I nodded slightly, unable to bear much more movement. He stood above me, studying my face in his hands for a moment before rushing out the door. I found a position to lay where the pain eased and I didn’t feel like throwing up, just long enough for me to fall asleep again.
΅ ΅ ΅
Walks with Baby have always been fun and enjoyable. If we were ever in a bad mood, she seemed to always set out to cheer us up. She also knew her way around the neighbourhood. She could easily locate both of our houses and Central Park from just about anywhere.
Instead of us walking her like usual, Baby seemed to be the one walking us. She knew exactly where we were headed and led the way to the luscious park a few blocks down. While being dragged along behind this beautiful, energetic dog, Aimee pulled out her iPod for both of us to listen to.
Both Aimee and I have rarely ever done anything without listening to music. It had become a part of our routines since we were young. We walk with music, we talk with music, we eat, drink and sometimes sleep with music. If someone ever asked us the question “If you had to go to a deserted island, what would you take?” the first thing on our list would be music.
As we entered the park, my favourite song began playing. I’m not sure how it became my favourite song. There’s just something about it that made me fall in love with it after hearing it for the first time. Aimee let Baby off her leash and we sat under a tree.
Realisation hit me as the second chorus started. I glanced at my phone. Not to see the time or if I had any messages, but to see what day it is. Although I already knew, I had to make sure. My phone didn’t lie. It was, indeed, Sunday. Could it be that it had been one week since the breakup? Yes – and, to make it worse, it happened in this same park at around this time. And, I do believe, under this same tree.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t feel a stab of pain like every other time. Instead, I felt a constant pressure within me. It hurt, but it was more of an ache. It was like digging your fingernail into the palm of your hand, holding it in the same spot for a while at a constant pressure, never increasing the amount of pressure applied, but the pain still worsened. Or maybe it was like a fire roaring inside me, heating my insides so much that it burned.
