Heartbreak's A Bitch!

by S. M Phillips

  Hang on, he’s suspending me and then asking me to understand? Talk about kicking me when I’m down. “No actually, no, I don’t.”

  How does he expect me to understand? I arrived at work, bright eyed and bushy tailed just like any other Friday, only to be whipped into the office to be told that I’m being suspended for only God knows what. Surely any minute now I’ll wake up and this will all me some crazy mind fuck that only my head can conjure. I place my hand on my thigh and pinch myself; hard.

  Nope, nothing. I’m still sat here and this is still happening. Shit. “So, how long will all this take, then?” I ask, silently admitting defeat in my head. He’s quite clearly not prepared to budge on this matter and whatever it is that has been brought to his attention, well, he’s made his own personal judgment, hasn’t he? Like he said, it’s out of his hands, yadda, yadda.

  “I can’t give you a time frame Emily, you know that.” He sighs.

  “Just something? Surely you can give me that?” Anything, I don’t care what, just something so I can tell that above everything else, he hasn’t given up on me just yet.

  “It could be a day, a week, maybe a month or more. I really don’t know. I’m not trying to be awkward here Emily, really, I’m not. I just don’t want to give you any false hope.”

  “A month? A whole month… or more?” I exclaim. “Graham, it’s almost Christmas, and now I’m jobless.” Freaking great. I suppose he doesn’t need to worry about that, though, as it’s not his life and career on the line. Oh God, I really don’t want to go down the hooker route, but what choice is he actually giving me here?

  “You’re not jobless… yet. My hands are tied and I really shouldn’t be involving myself in this investigation. It won’t be good for anyone if that happens.” He says very matter of fact. What’s that even supposed to mean, if he gets involved? Isn’t he already involved because he’s my boss?

  Where has the old Graham gone? The one that’s facing me looks like a morbid shell of the old guy that I used to look up to. If that’s what age does to you, then someone needs to find me some magic potion asap. I’d hate to grow old just to end up miserable and have the life sucked out of me.

  “Right well, I guess that’s that, then,” I say, confirming the inevitable. As much as I want to, I can’t meet his eyes. If I do, I know I’ll only end up crying and ruining my perfect smoky eye and winged liner.

  No one, I repeat, no one on this planet is worth that kind of sacrifice.

  I don’t know what time it is. I don’t even know how long ago my phone decided to turn against me too and die. What I do know is that it’s cold. Oh, so cold. Possibly minus 20 right now. My nipples are painfully sore and my arse is shockingly numb. Even an Indian heatwave wouldn’t warm me up quick enough.

  I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s around 6 pm-ish. The sky’s pitch black, the only visible light around is coming from the Christmas lights, magically flashing away in the distance. Only I don’t feel all that magical anymore, not at all, and dare I say it, even Christmassy.

  Today has well and truly killed off all of my Christmas spirit and I am not that person; ever. I’m always excited around Christmas time. Bloody hell, I still can’t get to sleep on Christmas Eve. There’s just way too much excitement, especially the big man’s arrival. Yet right now I feel like Scrooge sat on this bench, waiting for the Ghost of Christmas past to come and haunt me.

  I’ve been sat on this freezing cold park bench since I was wrongfully removed from the office. I can’t say I’ve achieved much except mulling things over in my mind, trying to decipher what could have happened, what it is that I’m supposed to have done so wrong. But surprise, surprise, I’m coming up empty time and time again.

  I know why I’m coming up empty, it’s because I know that I’ve done nothing wrong, but would Graham listen to me? Would he heck. To be honest, I really can’t believe how heartless Graham’s been. Jesus, he could have waited until after Christmas to spring this kind of crap on me. Allowed me a couple of weeks before he took the plunge. He could have started his own little investigation instead of rushing straight to bloody H.R.

  “Oh, what are you going to do, Parker?” My subconscious shouts out. He didn’t even tell me if I’m going to get paid. Do you get paid whilst being suspended? It’s never really been something that I’ve had to think about, to be honest. How in the name of everything holy am I going to survive? Yes, I’m exceptionally fortunate that I don’t have rent or a mortgage to pay, but this chicks still got to eat. It’s not like those tight-fisted sods at the bank will increase my credit card limit. I knew I should have kept it for emergencies, but it was just sitting so pretty and new in my purse. How could I not show it some love?

  Sod this.

  This is bloody ridiculous. I’m not putting up with this. I’ve put too much of my own time and energy into that place. If they expect me to go down without a fight, then they’ve got another thing coming, let me tell you. Both Cruella and H.R will be getting quite a mouthful from me in the morning. Who knows, maybe then they might just have something to suspend me for.

  Gross misconduct, my arse. I have been and always will be a picture of pure professionalism. I reckon Judge Rinder would love to hear all about this little situation. Oh, I’d love to hear him shout and snap them right back into their place.

  My phone’s not been switched on all that long and already it’s constantly buzzing around on the side. There must be a bazillion messages from Rachel and Matt. It’s not stopped buzzing since it came back to life. I tried my best to ignore it and after five minutes I’d had enough and switched it onto silent with the vibration setting removed. I guess normal people would love to feel popular after the horrific day that I’ve just had, but to be fair, I really don’t want to do normal right now. I really don’t want to adult at all.

  I grab a glass from my overly stocked cupboard and take a chilled bottle of wine from the fridge as I pass and take a seat at the kitchen table; alone, once again. Maybe it’s about time that I started to invest in some cats. I guess that’s all I’ll be good for these days. Boxsets, Vinnie, wine, and cats. I mean, I can’t keep hold of the love of my life, I’m almost thirty and I’m fast becoming a Tinder trollop, and the best of it is, I managed to get myself removed from the one thing I’m actually good at and I haven’t got the foggiest as to why.

  I’m so ready for this year to be over already. It’s been the shittiest one of my existence so far. Rachel’s adamant that I’ve been on some amazing journey of discovery, but personally, I just think someone out there is playing evil, twisted mind games at my expense.

  I never imagined that this is how my life would pan out. Me and Tyler had it all planned out. Holidays, marriage and kids. You name it, we planned for it. God, we were so happy, sickeningly so. Bloody hell, even I used to blush at the two of us together. We were both massive lovers of PDA’s. Five years we were together. Five long, amazingly breath-taking years and we were inseparable. He was my everything, my Khal, my king and I truly believed that we were destined to grow old not so gracefully together. Fluffy ears and all. Him, not me, obviously. We used to laugh as we imagined what we’d be like as we queued up for our pensions. But, like everything else around me, it crumbled and fell to shit, big time.

  It all started when Tyler got promoted at work. I was so happy and super proud of him. If ever anyone deserved the recognition, then it was Tyler. My very own life-sized action man was out there taking the business world by storm, just like he deserved. He was so happy too, at least for a while, anyway. Like a big fat pig in shit, but then gradually when the reality of his long hours kicked in, we started to see less of each other. Communication was now practically none existent between us, and even when I bit my lip and tried my best to talk to him, he’d just get really irritated and snap at me for no reason. He was a completely different person to the man that I knew and loved.

  Bloody hell, it was hard. Watching the one person who means the most to you, slowly and
painfully slipping out of your grasp and there’s nothing that you can do about it. No matter how hard you fight, how hard you love. When they no longer care for you, no longer need you, they’re gone.

  “How’d your day go?” I’d ask him multiple times as soon as he stepped through the door after a busy day, hoping that eventually one night he’d wake up and realise what an absolute arse he was being and go back to normal. Our kind of normal.

  Unfortunately, that day never arrived. Nine times out of ten, his dinner would be stone cold and dried up in the oven. The most that I would ever get back in response would be, “yeah, I’m beat. I’m gonna grab a shower and call it a night.” Five years of constant love and affection and that’s the response I got every single bloody time.

  A wet splash lands on my hand, dragging me out of my painful memories. Memories that I’ve tried to shut out at every possible moment. Oh, Emily, we can’t be spilling precious wine, you silly girl. That’s a bloody sin.

  It’s only when a few more drops splatter, that I realise it’s not wine at all, but my tears. I’m crying for God sake. Now it’s all going down the pan. Crying for what was, or what could have been, I’m not too sure. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. But, they say that you have to allow the tears to come so you can see things from a clearer view, or something like that.

  “Give your bloody head a wobble, Parker. Your tears can’t change the past.” I mentally scold myself. I know that I shouldn’t be wasting my energy on him, but I know that if he was here with me right now, then he’d know exactly what to do and he’d have all the magical words to make me feel better. Bloody selfish bastard. Why the hell did he have to go and break my heart?

  The package that he sent me is still facing me, in its new-found resting place on the kitchen table. To be fair, what with all the hoo-hah today, I’d forgotten all about it for a little while. Now, however, looking right at it, in all its plain brown glory, it just feels like a harsh slap to the face. Reminding me once again what once was, or could have been.

  “Should I open it?” I ponder out loud. When Mr. Jones passed it to me, I had no idea who it was from. Had things stayed that way, then I definitely would have opened it as soon as I stepped foot through the door.

  I’m curious, deadly curious, but at the same time, I’m absolutely crapping it. If I’m being completely honest with myself and shake off this fake bravado that I’ve started to carry around with me, if I actually allowed myself to be truthful with my feelings, then I’d admit that my poor little heart is still fragile. What if when I open it, it rips my heart open all over again? All my hard work would have been for nothing.

  My fingers reach out for it on impulse, hovering cautiously, my whole body riddled with nerves. I almost touch the box, but my hand whips back again just as the front door knocks, breaking the deathly silence that’s currently encasing my house.

  Maybe I could pretend that I’m not home? For all anyone knows, I could have been whipped off my feet by some handsome prince who’s only purpose in life is to make me happy and force me to forget my old, shit excuse of a life.

  I should be so bloody lucky.

  The knock sounds again, more persistent this time. “Oh, just piss off and leave a girl alone. I don’t want to donate to anything right now and I most certainly don’t want to be stood out in the cold making pointless small talk.” I huff out loud and mutter into my wine glass as if this magical potion completely understands and has answers for me.

  Knock… Knock… Knock…

  Well, whoever it is, it doesn’t sound like they’re planning to leave anytime soon. Oh crap, what if it’s Mr. Jones? Maybe I should go and check. Thinking back, I’ve not heard him all night since I’ve been back, which is pretty strange for your average Friday night. Normally anyone would think that I lived next door to some rowdy teenagers who’ve just found their freedom, not an old aged pensioner.

  I reluctantly pull myself away from my pity party for one and head towards the front door, albeit a little wobbly on my feet from my wine consumption. One of these days I will learn to eat something before I drink.

  “Parker, open up. I know that you’re in there.” Great, this is all I need. “I’m not leaving until you answer. I’ll happily freeze my balls off all night if I have too.”

  As tempting as that sounds, I just don’t have the heart to do it. I’d hate for anyone to suffer. Well, everyone except Graham the grumpy fucking goose. What a wanker.

  I take one last step towards the door, resting my hand on the door handle and I take a deep breath, ready to plaster on my show stopping fake smile and swing the door open; already fully aware who’s on the other side.

  “About bloody time.” Matt cries out, just as an icy cold gust of wind whips past me. He’s alright, though. He looks all snug and warm in his thick wooly scarf and black trench coat. I can just about make out his rosy red cheeks, mostly hidden from his dark, gruff stubble. The contrast doesn’t half make his lips look deeper and fuller, causing his green eyes to sparkle brightly. Wow. I have to admit that if I didn’t know him already, he’d definitely make my head turn, that’s for sure. “I’ve brought wine.”

  “Come on in, then,” I say swiftly, the cold attacking me from every possible angle, in turn causing me to shiver unpleasantly.

  “You lost your phone? I’ve been calling you all day.” He says, a scolding tone in his voice is evident but right now I can’t be arsed retaliating. I watch as he wastes no time in removing his scarf and coat, revealing a very complimentary muscle hugging grey, charcoal jumper. Well, you can’t miss his bloody biceps in that, that’s for sure. Not that these eyes of mine are complaining or anything.

  “I’ve been…” I pause, searching for the right words to explain my crapper of a day. “busy.” Well, it’s not a huge lie, just a teeny, tiny white one. I have been super busy with my thoughts. “Not to be rude Matt, but, why are you here?”

  His emerald eyes meet mine and he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I wanted to come and see you after today, you know?” He hops from one foot to another, shaking the bottle of wine back and forth in his hands.

  “Should we be celebrating something?” I ask, confused as hell. Why would we be celebrating anything?

  “I thought you’d want a drink, after…” Matt continues. I roll my eyes, spin on my heels and head back to my pity party. No sooner have I reached the table, fully intending to plonk my backside back down into my chair for the foreseeable, it hits me. Bam, right in the freaking face. I don’t sit down, instead, I spin right around to face him. “Oh. My. God… Did you know? You knew and you didn’t even tell me? How could you not have the decency to at least warn me before I headed to the office?”

  “Erm… yeah.” He replies cautiously, fully aware that he has awoken the inner bitch. Everyone knows once she’s out, it’s a hard task getting her back in that box. Even I struggle and she’s my pissing bitch.

  “Well… Why didn’t you at least give me a heads up?” I snap.

  “Whoa Parker, calm down a little. I did. I emailed you last night. Around 8-ish. I thought you knew, that’s why I texted you good luck this morning.”

  I’d like to believe that he’s telling me the truth, but I don’t know what to believe anymore. It feels like everyone I let in does nothing but shit on me time and time again. “Well, I didn’t receive any emails from you. Where’d you send it?” I ask, hoping to catch him out. God, maybe that’s not such a good idea seeing as though my phone’s shocking. It’s less than a month old and I’ve had nothing but problems with it and that was before the screen shattered. But, it’s an iPhone. The apple whore inside me refuses to believe that it’s the phone. Obviously, it is, but right now I’ll happily blame google and my internet provider, or anyone else for that matter. Just not Apple.

  To be fair, though, I can’t even remember if I even bothered to check them last night. My head was way too muddled with images of my Thor like creature of a date to even contemplate carrying out the most munda
ne of tasks.

  “Personal and work.” Matt muffles while pouring himself a glass of wine and topping mine up as he goes. “I wasn’t sure which one you’d check first so thought it would be best to go for both.”

  “Are you sure? ” I ask him. I grab my phone from the side and open my emails, which takes me a while with the shattered screen. Fortunately I know the phone like the back of my hand. Sure enough, there’s his email. I click on it so that I can read what he’s put and I can just about make it out.

  Good luck tomorrow, Parker. You’re sure going to need it. Call me the minute you leave the office. Are we clear?

  “Well, I’ve got this one. I didn’t get the one at work, though. I briefly checked them this morning. Maybe you thought you’d sent it to that one? Anyway, regardless; you knew. I didn’t and that email doesn’t exactly prepare me for much, does it? I still haven’t got a clue what it’s all about, to be honest.”

  “Well, there wasn’t that much to tell really. I didn’t want to jinx you or put my foot in it, you know? All I knew was that Graham sent an email around yesterday informing us that as a bonus for all our hard work we could have the day off. An early Christmas present, apparently. I went to reply to you to see if you fancied doing something, but then I saw that you weren’t on the list. It was all a little too fishy if you ask me. I knew that there could only be one reason why Graham would want you in that office.” He smiles and takes a glug of wine before continuing. “Well, come on. Don’t keep me hanging like a pair of Bridget’s, Parker. I want to know; did it happen, or not?”

  Considering Matt knew all about today, he’s acting pretty happy about it all. “What about Cruella? I take it she was in on all this too? You’ve become quite the pair, haven’t you?” No doubt he’s probably shagging her too. “Her, I can understand, but you? I thought that we were a team, Matt? I thought we were friends? Listen,” I whisper, hoping that will prevent my voice from breaking. “I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn’t upset today, but you’ve just well and truly kicked me in the balls.” I really want to grab my drink, God knows I need it, but it’s on the table right next to Matt’s big, strong arms and I know that if I take one step closer to him, I’ll end up going for him and it won’t end well at all. How could he do this to me? We’re married in the workplace for God sake. He’s supposed to have my back and I have his. Those were our unspoken vows. Till P45’s do us part.