Silver Lining

by E. J. Shortall

  “I’m sorry, I have to go,” I sputter as I turn on my heels and rush back to the front doors, noticing Jenny’s smirk as I pass her reception desk.

  “Come back soon,” she shouts after me as I practically run out.

  Not knowing what to do, and scared that I will break down at any second, I hail down the first Black London taxi I see and give him the address to take me home. I settle back into the seat and let the tears fall free. The driver peers at me through the rear view mirror with a look of compassion and intrigue on his face, but he doesn’t say anything and returns his eyes to the road, leaving me to my misery.

  When the taxi pulls to a stop outside my building, I pull some money from my purse and hand it to him, not bothering to wait for the change, and quickly get out, slamming the door behind me. I don’t mean to be so aggressive, but I just want to get in to the safety of my flat before hysteria sets in.

  In the safety of the flat, I rush to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me. I drop all my bags in the middle of the floor, collapse onto my bed, and let the overwhelming devastation take over.

  ***

  The first call comes in at ten past five, followed by a text. I ignore both. The next comes at twenty past five, followed by a text. I again ignore both. This continues with the interlude between calls becoming shorter and shorter, and in the end, I get up, grab my phone from my bag and switch it off. God, how I wish I could switch off like the phone.

  Lying back on the bed, the tears continue, my body shaking and jerking with my heartbreak. Eventually, the weight of emotion and physical exhaustion takes over, and I cry myself to sleep, curled into a ball and wishing things had been so different.

  The front door slamming closed wakes me from my restless slumber, and immediately my mind replays the scene from earlier.

  “Amber, are you here?” Becki’s concerned voice carries through to me from the hallway, but I don’t answer. I just want to be left alone.

  “Ambs, are you in there?” Becki calls out again as she rattles my door. When I don’t respond she tries again. “Ambs, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” Still I remain silent, sobbing quietly into my pillow.

  I hear a few steps on the wooden floor in the hallway and then Becki’s hushed voice. “Yeah she’s here, locked in her room. What the hell happened...Well, whatever it is you have done, she won’t answer… No, don’t you dare. Give me a chance to talk to her… I mean it, Craig, stay away… Yeah, bye.”

  Just hearing his name and knowing he was on the phone causes the violent sobbing to start up again, and I want to scream. I’m frustrated with myself for being so stupid with my heart so soon after the end of another relationship, angry with Craig for deceiving me and taking my fragile heart and blasting it to smithereens, and angry at the world for ever letting me meet Craig ‘the bastard’ Silver. I jump to my feet and let the anger consume me, ripping the duvet and pillows from my bed and tossing them aside. Next it’s the contents of my bedside table. The lamp falls with a heavy thud on the wooden floor. Glass shatters from the framed photo of my mum I keep there. My ereader goes skimming across the floor, along with other random objects I’d not bothered to put away. Next is my dresser, items crashing and thudding as the screams of frustration rip through my throat.

  “Amber, Amber let me in. Stop it, sweetheart. Come on, let me in.” Becki’s desperate tone somehow penetrates my hysterical rant, and I drop to the floor, letting the anguish consume me again. “Come on, Ambs, open the door. Let me in. Talk to me.”

  I know she won’t give up until I let her in, so I stand on shaky legs and unlock the door, remaining in the doorway with my arms hanging limply at my sides and my head dropped forward in defeat. She immediately pulls me into a hug and squeezes tightly. “Oh my God, Ambs, what happened?” Being in my best friend’s embrace and hearing her concerned tone breaks me further, and my legs give way. Becki, feeling me drop, grabs me tighter and lowers down with me, never once letting me go. We remain that way for several minutes, maybe even hours, as she lets me cry onto her shoulder, occasionally muttering soothing words or smoothing hair away from my face.

  When the tears once again dry up, she asks me for a second time what happened, and I know I have to face this reality and tell her. Ignoring it won’t make it go away. “It’s Craig,” I whisper. “He’s… he’s married.” I feel Becki stiffen up beneath me, but continue “Al… Aleisha isn’t an ex at all. She is his wife. They’ve been married for twelve years. Why, Bec? Why did he lie to me?” I wail.

  When Becki hasn’t said anything after a minute or two, I pull away to look at her and I see fear in her eyes. “Bec? Why would he lie to me?” When she still doesn’t answer, and her eyes widen further, understanding hits me like a freight train. I jump to me feet and retreat several feet away from her.

  “You knew,” I whisper. “You knew he was married, and you didn’t tell me. You let me bear my soul to him and hand him my heart on a silver platter, and you didn’t tell me. Why? Why would you do that? You’re supposed to be my best friend. Best friends don’t keep things like that from each other!” I continue, now screaming at her.

  She tries to walk toward me, but I put my hands up to stop her. “Why?” I scream.

  “I wanted to, Ambs, I really did. I don’t know the full story, but I know they aren’t togeth-”

  “They. Are. Married. Becki.”

  “Estranged. I don’t think they have been together for years.”

  “I don’t give a shit. He is married, and no one thought this tidbit of information would be useful to me.”

  “Ambs, I-”

  Cutting her off again, I glare at her, feeling totally and utterly let down and betrayed by everyone who is supposed to care about me. “Get out!” I scream. “Get the fuck out, Becki. Leave me alone! Friends don’t do that to each other.”

  Becki, crying now, looks at me, pleading with her eyes. “Ambs, please.”

  “No Becki, I don’t want to hear it. I just want to be left alone. Please, just go.” I am so weary with all these emotions running through me, so I drop down on my bed and bury my face in my hands, waiting for Becki to leave.

  “I’m sorry. I really am, Ambs,” she says quietly before leaving my room and closing the door behind her.

  Feeling totally and utterly alone in the world, I curl up on my bed and, this time, cry for my mum. It’s at times like this a girl really needs her mum.

  ***

  I spend the next two days holed up in my room doing nothing. I don’t think, I don’t cry, I don’t eat. I literally do nothing. I’m numb and totally empty, and life seems pretty pointless. I know from previous experience that I’m becoming depressed, if not there already, but I don’t even care.

  Craig has tried to call and text constantly, but I always send the calls to voicemail and ignore the texts. I should really keep my phone off. After all, I have no one who would need to contact me now, but habit makes me keep it on and charged. So I put up with it and ignore his attempts at contact. He even came round, but Becki intercepted him and made him leave. I know one day I will need to confront him, but that day will be way ahead in the future, when I’m feeling slightly stronger.

  Becki has kept her distance, not wanting to force me to talk about things if I’m not ready, but she does check in on me regularly to make sure I’m still breathing and haven’t done anything silly.

  By Friday, I have pulled myself together enough to take a shower and dress in some comfy leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. I look rough as hell, I know, but I just don’t care. Who is going to see me anyway? I grab a cup of coffee and the marking I still need to do and head out onto the balcony, hoping the warm air will blow away a few cobwebs and help me refocus on my work, and prepare to return to school on Monday.

  I have the first assignment in front of me, ready for my attention, when the sound of the intercom buzzing startles me. I look down at my watch and see it is a little after one pm. Who would be coming by now? Oh God, please don’t
let it be Craig, not now.

  With a heavy sigh, I drag myself up and walk through the living room to the intercom.

  “Hello,” I answer dubiously.

  “I have a delivery here for Ms Amber Merchant.”

  A delivery? For me? I don’t remember ordering anything recently. “Okay, come on up,” I reply, and press the button to let whoever it is up.

  As I stand by the door, waiting to see what the delivery could possibly be, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I really do look a sorry state. Why have I let myself become this person? I moved in here with a resolve to find out who I really am. Yet here I am just a few weeks later, broken hearted and back to square one again.

  When I hear gentle tapping on the front door, I walk over and peek out of the spy hole. Since the whole David incident, I’ve been much more security focused, not willing to risk a repeat performance. Standing on the other side is a short female with dark, almost black, hair. My fears and insecurities overwhelm me for a moment, and I almost don’t answer. Then I notice the name of a local flower shop on her sweatshirt as she takes a step away from the door. I immediately unlock the door and open it in greeting.

  “Ms Merchant?” She asks and I nod. “These are for you.” She bends down and retrieves a ginormous bouquet of pink and cream roses, peonies and gerberas in a stunning crystal vase.

  Taking the flowers, I thank her and retreat back into the hallway. There is only one person who would be sending me flowers. Did he not get the message when I didn’t contact him after the last bunch? Taking the flowers straight into the kitchen, I open the lid of the bin, ready to dump these in the same manner as the last ones.

  As I lower the bouquet, I notice the note card perched on the top. It’s not an elaborate card, like on the last bunch. This one is classy, plain white and etched with a silver border. In the centre, written with a neat script is the word “Sorry.” Curious, I take the flowers over to the counter and remove the card.

  Written on the reverse are words that literally break my heart all over again. “Amber, I am so sorry! I wish you would talk to me, let me explain. I love you. Craig.”

  Dropping the card, I immediately stumble backwards into the living room, keeping my eyes glued to the flowers. Why now? And what is there to explain? He’s married. There is nothing left to explain.

  Just then, I hear footsteps and look over to see Becki come to a stop beside me.

  “Is everything okay, Ambs?” She asks, looking at me with wary eyes.

  I nod and look back over to the pretty flowers.

  “Who are they from?” she asks, following my gaze.

  “Craig,” I murmur.

  “Really?” she asks and strolls into the kitchen. She picks up the discarded card and quickly reads it. “It’s about bloody time. He should have been showering you with lavish gifts of apology all week.”

  Why? I don’t want gifts from him. I want nothing from him. In two short weeks, he had gifted me with the only thing I’ve ever really wanted, unconditional love. Or so I thought. That gift had been rudely recalled, with a massive ‘defective’ sticker slapped over it. He has nothing else I could possibly want from him now.

  No, there is only one person in this world who loves me unconditionally, Becki. Despite her keeping things from me, I am beginning to understand why. She didn’t want me hurting, and isn’t that what is happening now, because the truth is out? I need my friend. I can’t keep pushing her away too.

  “Do you want coffee, Ambs?” Becki calls from the kitchen.

  Taking a deep breath, I decide now is as good a time as ever to deal with Becki too. She really is my best friend, and I can’t stand the distance I have put between us anymore.

  “Yes, please,” I shout as I take a seat on the sofa.

  A few minutes later, Becki returns to the living room carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. “Becki, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take this whole Craig business out on you.” I say, taking my drink and looking up at her.

  “No, Ambs, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who is sorry. You’re right. I should have told you what I knew in the beginning. I was hoping he was going to come clean himself. And then when you started growing feelings for him and seemed genuinely happy, I didn’t have the heart to disappoint you. I’m so, so sorry.” Looking at her closely, I notice her usually bright and cheerful eyes are shadowed and dull. It makes me realise how this whole mess has impacted on others as well.

  “Craig really does love you, Ambs. He is just as cut up about this as you are. Scott says he is kicking himself for not telling you the truth and giving you the chance to decide if you wanted to pursue anything with him, knowing he was still technically married. Will you speak to him and let him explain?” she asks hopefully.

  “I can’t, Bec. Not yet. It’s all still too raw, and the fact is he lied to me. Alright, so it was by omission, but that is still hard to forgive and forget, no matter what the circumstances.”

  “I understand.” She remains quiet for a moment then asks pensively, “Are we okay?”

  With a smile, I let her know that we are fine. “I need your daily dose of crazy to keep me grounded, so yeah, we’re fine.” She smiles and nods, and just like that, everything in Amber and Becki world is as it should be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  The following week, I throw myself back into work, preparing interesting and enjoyable lessons, supervising exams and marking coursework. When Leanne asks again about contacting Craig for her assignment, I struggle to remain calm and professional, but I manage to put my personal issues aside and coach her to make a call to CAS Technologies. When I see her later in the week, she is beaming from ear to ear and informs me she spoke to Craig’s assistant, and he has agreed to come here and meet with her to help her with her assignment. I shall have to make sure someone else is free to supervise that meeting. I sure as hell can’t.

  So here I am Saturday morning, enjoying a lazy morning curled up on the sofa with the latest thriller on my ereader. Funny how I can’t seem to stomach romances at the moment. I’m on the edge of my seat biting my thumb nail when Scott and Becki saunter into the living room. This is the first time I have seen Scott in a couple of weeks, and I wonder if he has been avoiding me.

  “Hey, Ambs, what are you up to?” Becki’s tone clearly tells me that it is in fact her that is up to something.

  “Climbing Mount Everest. What does it look like?”

  “Funny, ha ha, smartarse.”

  “What do you want, Bec?” I look at her and then Scott and see them both looking a little sheepish.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Same thing I do every night now. Read. Might even push the boat out and have a bottle of vino tonight. Why?” I ask apprehensively. If I know Becki, I am not going to like the next few words that come out of her mouth.

  “Well, um… Shit, I’m not going to pussyfoot about. You need to get your arse out and stop moping about, so you are coming to Scott’s footy thing this evening.”

  Oh, hell no! Is she crazy?

  “Are you crazy? I can’t go to that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Now I know you are crazy. Why do you think?”

  “He won’t be there, Ambs,” Scott’s soothing tone immediately calms my racing heart.

  “Why? He is the Captain. He has to be there.”

  “He’s not in London. He has been staying in Devon since… well, you know.”

  Becki, seeing the look of shock on my face, comes to sit beside me. “I told you, Ambs, he is as cut up about this break up as you are, especially because you refuse to talk to him,” she says softly.

  “But…” I’m shocked, totally speechless. I thought he would have just gotten on with his life without me around. What about his company, all his clients and employees that rely on him?

  “So you see,” Becki continues, “you don’t need to hide out. You need a good night out, and what better evening than nice food, enjoyable comp
any,” she grins at me, and I roll my eyes at her, “a few drinks, and busting some moves on the dance floor? Come on, please? I need you there. Most of the other WAGS are right bitches, and I can’t rely on HeMan here to stay next to me all night.”

  I look at Scott with raised brows, “HeMan?”

  “Don’t ask,” he replies, shaking his head and laughing at Becki.

  “But… I’m not ready for something like that. I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, missy. Don’t give me that crap. I’ve seen the gorgeous gown you have hidden away in your wardrobe. Wear that.”

  Thinking of the dress reminds me of Craig’s eyes. Thinking of Craig’s eyes makes me think about Craig. Thinking about Craig makes me miss him, and then his lies and betrayal hit me like a slap in the face again.

  “I can’t wear that, Bec. I bought that when I thought… I just can’t wear it, okay?”

  “Yes you can, and yes you will. It is just a dress, Ambs. A few pieces of fabric stitched together to make a garment meant to protect your modesty. No more arguments, okay? We’re going to spend the afternoon girlyfying ourselves, and Scott can come by later to pick us up.”

  “Girlyfying? Is that even a word?” I ask with a giggle.

  “It is in the Rebecca Townsend dictionary,” she states matter of fact, making me laugh more.

  “You’re not going to let me out of this, are you?”

  “I’m sorry, did you say something? And why are you not in your room starting the girlyfying process?”

  “Bec, you are a complete loon. You do know that, right?” I stand and start to walk to my room. “Thank you. Both of you. I love you guys.” Before I know it, Becki has wrapped herself around me like Ivy and is hugging tight.

  “We love you too, my little cherub. Now scoot, go bath, shower or whatever, so we can start getting ready.” It’s only eleven in the morning. How long does it take to get ready?

  ***

  My idea of getting ready for an evening out is obviously not the same as Becki’s. Having jumped in the shower and run through my usual routine of hair washing, body washing and shaving all the customary areas, I find myself back in my room wondering how I am going to fill the next several hours.