by Matt Shaw
Why can’t I just tell him, once and for all? Get him out of my life finally. I know I should. Everyone has told me. They all say he’s no good. Deep down, I know they’re right too.
So why can’t I just tell him.
What is it about him?
Should I even reply to the text messages?
The texts. Does he mean it this time? Has he changed? He said it was a shame to waste all the years we shared together and he’s right - it is a shame.
My family won’t approve, if I decided to give him another go. They hate him. They watched how he treated me last time. They saw how hurt I was by his coldness. Even when I was ill, in hospital, he failed to show me any kind of warmth.
Why am I even thinking about seeing him again?
Surely I should have learnt by now.
Maybe seeing him one last time will help me move on. Perhaps, face to face, I’ll remember all the bad times and run from the room - wishing that he were dead. Maybe.
I pick my phone off the bedside cabinet and select Sam’s name from the message window. A quick scan of the previous messages and I’m still unsure of what to write in reply to them.
Don’t rush into it.
Put the phone down.
Let him sweat a little.
Let him think you’re having a nice date with someone new and exciting.
Don’t show him any signs that you care.
My fingers don’t listen to my brain’s advice as they type - ‘miss you 2 xxx’ in response to the last text he sent about not giving up on him and how much he is missing me.
Send?
Click.
Sent.
Idiot.
I turn my phone off - almost too scared for the reply that, in all likelihood, will follow. It will give me something to wake up to. Try and sleep now before I get myself further into a situation I struggle to control or get out of.
Sleep?
My brain is racing. It feels as though I’m having a million thoughts a second. There isn’t much chance of sleep tonight, I fear. I close my eyes anyway. Hopefully I’ll be able to drift off.
* * * * *
Can’t sleep.
I wonder what she’s doing. I wonder if she is still getting text messages from her mystery text partner or whether she is just busy frantically texting all the necessary replies back to whoever it was.
I text her ten minutes ago saying I had had a lovely night and hoped to do it again soon but haven’t heard anything back. When you don’t hear back - it’s always more of an insult when you know, for a fact, they don’t go anywhere without their mobile phone. Ten minutes is ample time for her to read what I said and send me a cheery reply.
A reply is all that I ask.
Just something to help me take the general feeling of unease away. Something along the lines of her having had a good night too and was also looking forward to seeing me again.
Something to make me feel loved.
The roast is repeating on me.
7
“Well I didn’t know he was going to start sending you texts!” said Jackie, not that it made it any better. She knew what sort of person Sam was and I was angry that she’d even get involved. It was none of her business. “Just ignore them, he’ll go away again. I just wanted to annoy him. I promise, ignore him and he’ll vanish back to where-ever he came from.”
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
There was an awkward pause between us.
“Tell me you didn’t reply.”
Another awkward pause.
“Why did you reply?” she continued.
“Why did you feel the need to say anything in the first instance?” I threw back in her face.
“I’m sorry. I’ve already told you - I just wanted to get a rise out of him. If anything, I thought he would text me back but I checked my phone all night and nothing. I just presumed he didn’t care. If anything, I was a little disappointed at the lack of a bite.”
“He kept texting. It wasn’t just one text. It was several throughout the evening. Peter kept looking at me and asking if everything was okay.”
“You were checking your phone whilst he was with you?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Do you know how rude that is?” she continued.
“It could have been important and, truth be told, I thought you might have checked up on me at some point in the evening,” I said. Not actually a lie; I was expecting a message from Jackie checking to see that I was alright. After all, it’s not every day you have a stranger around your house.
Jackie said, “I didn’t want to interrupt Love’s Young Dream, I thought you’d text me if there were any problems...”
“I’m sorry Mr Crazy Murderer Psycho, who I invited into my home, would you mind if I just sent my best friend a text before you continue stabbing and raping me?”
“Oh don’t be so melodramatic - so how did you leave it with him?”
“Who? Peter? I said that I’d be in touch...”
“No - how did you leave it with Sam?”
“I just left it, I turned my phone off.”
“Oh now you turn your phone off; if you turned your phone off when the date started...”
I shot Jackie a look - a look that screamed, ‘don’t you dare try and pin this on me’.
I hadn’t heard from Sam for months and, if it wasn’t for her text, he’d be none the wiser and I still wouldn’t be hearing from him now.
“Maybe you’re worrying for nothing? He’s probably given up by now. Turn your phone back on.”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t want to see the reply that I knew would have been waiting for me.
My brain was aching and I felt confused as to what I was feeling.
“Ignoring Samuel... how did it go last night?” asked Jackie; sensing my concern.
“Last night?”
* * * * *
It was a good evening.
It was a nice evening and, yet, no reply from her.
Nothing.
I know she would have read it by now. There is no way she wouldn’t have seen it. So why no reply? Could it be that I have already ruined things between us? No. It WAS a nice evening. I acted interested when she told me of her hobbies. I kept her smiling and laughing with me.
Unless... she was smiling and laughing at me?
No.
She wouldn’t.
She’s not the sort.
I know she likes me.
If not - why would she go to the trouble of cooking such a lovely meal?
She likes me alright.
I put the paint brush that I’m holding down on the sheeting I’ve laid in my hallway, to catch any accidental paint spillages whilst I decorate, and walk over to the bannister where I’ve left my mobile phone.
No paint on my hands. Good. Don’t need to get that on the phone. I touch the screen and it lights up. Good. The battery hasn’t died without me realising it. No. Not good. At least that would have explained the lack of communication.
Maybe something happened after I left.
Should I go round there? I could do. I know where she lives now.
No.
Don’t go anywhere.
If everything is okay - I’ll just look clingy.
Full signal too.
I open the empty text message section of my phone and dial my own number. ‘Test’ inputted into the message box. Send. The progress bar moves across the small screen almost instantly and my phone shakes in my anxious palm - the message tone alerting me as my own message lands in my inbox.
Then I’m being ignored.
For a moment I’m unsure of what to do. Do I need to find a new supermarket to shop at? Avoid seeing her to save myself further pain? No - I’m being silly. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. I’m sure she left last night with feelings just as strong as my own feelings for her.
This is destiny.
This was meant to be.
Maybe just one more tex
t message.
One more text message to prove the other wasn’t a fluke.
Again - the message is almost instantaneous.
Damn it.
The thing is, I know this relationship is right. I know it’s meant to be. I know we’re going to make one of the best couples ever. I’m sure of it. I don’t understand why she doesn’t think the same - she can’t think the same.... if she did feel it, she would have sent me a text by now. She would have got in touch. I don’t want to give up on it yet. I should go to the supermarket.
Of course - the supermarket.
Maybe she’s working.
She’s working and can’t send a text. She isn’t allowed to have her phone on her in the working day.
But she could have sent me a text message last night.
Unless her phone died. It had been going off all night. Maybe the battery died. She charged the phone but didn’t turn it on until this morning.
She could have text this morning.
Unless she was running late.
Last night was a late one.
She probably overslept.
Yes.
That’s it. She overslept. She read my text message when she woke up and probably smiled. I can picture her smile now. A sweet smile. She would have wanted to reply but obviously couldn’t because of time being short.
That has to be it.
She’ll probably text at the end of her shift.
I can’t help but have a little laugh - she’s probably sat at her checkout now, stressing about not replying to my text message. She’s probably worried that I’m sat here getting angry with her because she hasn’t been able to reply to my text. She’s probably stressing that I’m losing interest in here because I fear she isn’t interested in me. She’s probably desperate to send that text message...
She’s silly.
I wouldn’t get stressed at her. I wouldn’t get angry. Not with her. She’s too perfect.
I put the phone down and smile.
She does love me.
I know it.
Perfect timing as my phone vibrates on the side and the alert sounds out; a text message. My heart skips a beat as I snatch the phone back up in my hand. I hope it’s her.
I smile.
It is.
“Good night. Thanks.”
I was hoping for more than that but it’s all positive. Nothing negative. She doesn’t say she doesn’t wish to see me again. See, she does love me. And, to think, I doubted her for a minute. I’m the fool.
I put the phone down again.
I’ll leave it a day before I reply so I don’t come across as too keen........
* * * * *
“Are you going to see him again?” asked Jackie.
She was referring to Peter. She had given up talking about Sam and so had I. We were just going around in circles - she was asking why I couldn’t walk away from him and I was angry at her for getting in touch with him in the first place. I was angry initially anyway - I had turned my phone on to two more messages; one was from Peter and one more from Sam asking to meet up with me.
Whilst Jackie was watching me, thinking I was replying to Peter, I was actually sending Sam a message - agreeing to meet up with him. One last meet.
“Well?” she continued as I read the text message that came through to my phone saying we’d meet tonight, after my shift.
I put my phone down onto the canteen table, upside down so it - if any more messages came through - they couldn’t be read by anyone else, and looked at Jackie, “I don’t know.”
“Wasn’t he very nice?”
“He was... fine.”
“Fine? You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”
He wasn’t Sam.
My Samuel. We have history together and it’s hard to ignore that. What if he has changed? What if we could make it work this time? Do I even want to try and make it work with him again? We’ll see, I guess.
“See him again,” she said.
Did she see me reply to Sam? Did she know I was planning on seeing him again?
“What?” I asked.
“See Peter again - maybe one evening wasn’t enough to form a proper opinion. Maybe he was nervous. Second date he may come out of his shell a little more...”
Maybe my first impressions were wrong of Peter - although gut feelings didn’t normally let me down. Maybe he was just shy. Maybe he’ll be different the next time we see each other - more like the man that I met at the checkout. Last night, it was as though something was bothering him. He just didn’t seem as charming as he first appeared when he came into the shop. But, then, maybe hearing from Sam just confused me and I, subconsciously, didn’t give Peter all of the attention he deserved.
Maybe I missed something.
Maybe.
I’ll see Sam later. See Sam one last time and get him out of my system once and for all and then worry about what I may or may not feel for Peter.
“I sent him a text thanking him for last night and that I had a nice evening,” I said to Jackie who was looking at me, waiting for an answer to her suggestion.
“Well there you go - see him again. I’m not saying you have to marry the guy but don’t give up on him just because you were distracted by your phone all night. Just, this time, turn you phone off when you’re with him! Give the poor guy a chance!”
I smiled at Jackie as though I was agreeing with everything she was saying - yet, all the time I was listening to her - I just kept thinking what a hypocrite she was; the sort of woman that left her mobile phone on, just in case a better offer was to come through during a date night. Before now she has asked me to call her, to get her out of a date, just so she could go straight into the arms of another man.
I don’t know how she does it.
8
I’m not clingy.
I need to come to the supermarket. I’ve run out of..... milk.
I’ve run out of milk.
I need milk.
Yes.
Milk.
I can’t help it if she happens to work in my local supermarket. It’s just one of those things; a coincidence. If I end up at her checkout - it’s not because I’m stalking her or seeing what she’s up to - it’s because it happens to be the checkout with the shortest queue.
