Lonely

Inhale Exhale / Chapter II

I tried to remain calm, and focus my breath. One. Inhale. Two. Exhale. WHATTHEFUCK. No, again. Three. Inhale. Four. Exhale. Tom looked over at me and saw I was struggling to keep my breath steady.

"Sir, excuse me, do you have some water?" He asked the driver politely. He must have thought I started feeling sick again. The driver gave a bottle of water which Tom opened and handed to me. "Small sips. We'll be there soon." He said in a reassuring tone. I thanked him quietly and started drinking slowly. It did help and calmed me down a bit. I looked through the window and started thinking about how it all led up to this moment. Spiralling down again, which in my state was not recommended. I felt a hand gently touching mine.

"We're here." Once he had my attention he took his hand away and unbuckled my seatbelt. I thanked the driver politely and stepped out of the car. Tom gestured towards a victorian-style house. "Be my guest, please." I didn't even know what to say, I still felt so numb and confused.

Tom opened the door and suddenly a dog jumped on him. "No, Bobby, stop, Boooobby, behave. Sit! Good boy!" The dog sat patiently, and as we headed to the living room, he slowly approached me. "You two have fun, I will go prepare the guest room". Tom said and went upstairs.

"Hi, honey. You're so cute, you know that? So cute." I sat on the floor and Bobby carefully sniffed me as if to check if I'm worthy of his affection. Well, I passed, because soon he was wagging his tail and demanding I pet him constantly. Bobby put his head on my shoulder so I carefully hugged him. I didn't want to overstep his boundaries of course. Once I hugged him, I felt my muscles relax. It felt so...homely. So warm. Bobby sat in front of me, still having his head on my shoulder. I didn't remember when was the last time I hugged someone. Well, it was a dog, but he was more than enough. I needed that hug so goddamn much. I thought that Bobby would get frustrated and try to step back, but it was as if he knew I needed him. I heard the footsteps and I let go of Bobby, still petting him.

"I...prepared a room for you. I also left some clothes you can use as a pyjama, if you want to of course. So the room is to the right of the stairs and the bathroom is to the left." Tom opened the fridge and started taking some food out.

"So...Hiddleston Hotels is it?" I joked and stood up from the floor. I looked over at him and realised his whole body tensed up.

"So you recognised me?"

"Eventually. But honestly, it doesn't matter. At all. I will leave, you don't have to worry about me." I started walking back, I definitely did not want to be a burden.

"No, stay. It's okay. It doesn't matter, like you said. Please, stay." He looked up at me as if he was waiting for my confirmation.

"I'm sorry about everything. The last thing I want to do is to be a burden to anyone, especially to someone who has so much going on. I'm really sorry."

"You are not a burden. I wouldn't have offered my help. Believe me, it's okay." He handed me my phone and headphones.

"Thank you. So much. It really...means a lot." I smiled softly. "Um...so you said the room is to the right...?

"Yes, room is to the right, bathroom is to the left. There is a cabinet in the bathroom, in the top drawer should be everything you might need, some face cleansers and other...face stuff. You know what, just make yourself at home. If you won't be able to find something, I'll be here. Do you like omelettes?" He held the pan up.

"Yes, but please, I don't want to be-"

"You are not a burden."

I nodded thankfully and headed upstairs. I took the right immediately, still feeling like an intruder and entered the room. It did not feel like a guest room at all. The warm beige walls and the dim light made me feel so calm. I looked at the bed and I saw a stretched grey t shirt, that had some worn out logo at the front and checked shorts that looked like pyjama bottoms that were never worn, with the tags still attached. I picked it up along with a large black towel that was meticulously folded on the bed, and headed to the bathroom. The walls were bricked and similarly coloured tiles were covering the floor. A walk-in shower was placed in the corner. All the furniture was wooden, painted in light beige. The cabinet that Tom mentioned was placed next to the sink, so I opened it in hopes of finding a spare toothbrush. I just could not stand the feeling I had after that incident in the bushes. "Thank God" I thought to myself as I picked out a toothbrush from the package. I quickly brushed my teeth and got rid of that horrible aftertaste. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked tired. My eyes were red and the bags underneath had this dark purple shade that was a definite indication I have not had much sleep recently. I sighed and entered the shower, setting the water temperature to cold. I was never a fan of hot or even warm showers. It did not feel relaxing to me, I felt like I was melting and not in a good way. The steam would always make me feel as if the air was so thin I couldn't breathe. So I always chose cold showers. At least it kept me awake and I felt fresh.

I started washing my hair and remembered how Tom held my hair not so long ago. Granted, the situation was far from comfortable as I was focusing on not throwing up on my shoes at that particular moment, I still felt grateful for this tiny gesture of kindness. He didn't have to do that. He could have just left after pulling me back from the bridge. God, am I that deprived of human connection that it takes holding my hair while I vomit, to smile at the sheer memory of it? Seems so.

I washed the rest of my body and stepped out of the shower. I felt a bit more...conscious. I quickly dressed up in the borrowed pyjama and with the towel on my head I left the bathroom. I went into the room, folded my clothes and placed them on the nearby chair. I sat on the bed, took my phone and switched it on. I had to check that goddamn e-mail.

And there it was. Addressed to thomas.wh@gmail.com. No, wait. I checked it again. thomas.wh@gmail.com. How in the hell? I clicked on "Compose new mail" and started typing Tamara's e-mail address. After typing "t", a suggestion popped up. thomas.wh. Below that, there was indeed, tamaracarell@gmail.com. Okay, I understand everything, that might have happened, sure. But how did I even have Tom's e-mail address? I scrolled down to "Sent" folder and searched for his e-mail address. A year before I have sent him an e-mail. Obviously, I had no idea it was Tom I was sending my job application to. I couldn't believe that he had his own e-mail address written in the job ad for a PA. I guess no one would have even suspected, that the actual person who needed a PA would post the job ad, so that was quite smart on his part.

That meant Tamara never received my goodbye. Maybe she wasn't meant to.

"Maybe she wasn't meant to." I whispered to myself and threw the phone on the bed. I hung the towel on the chair and went downstairs.