now that we don't talk [tom blyth]

2.

When 4 o'clock rolled around, my laptop was shoved swiftly into my bag, followed by my phone, house keys and water bottle, and I was in the elevator by 4:01. The email from that morning still swirled in my mind. My emotional side of my mind said don't go. It would make it worse, I wouldn't move on, I would never move past the state of shock and denial of the breakup. My rational mind said money, bills, financial compensation, a free trip. Yet, neither side was strong enough to make me pick that option.

By the time I had made it home, it was dark out. My apartment leaked no light, and the lamp from the corner of the living area barely lit up more than a few centimetres from where it stood. I dropped my bag by the front door, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the bar cart and pouring a shot into a glass, followed by some soda water and lime. Taking a sip, my face screwed up before settling. I sighed, leaning against the counter.

My phone showed no response from Tom. I expected nothing less - he hadn't replied to any of my messages from the past few months, and I doubt he planned to anytime soon.

Clearly he didn't want his stuff that much.

The job offer swirled in my mind. Well, hardly a job, more a project. A project that would send me to Berlin, all expenses taken care of, and interview my ex-boyfriend for a mere 15% salary increase and a bonus. Seemed like a pretty obvious answer to me, yet here I was trying to weigh up my options.

I mean, what would it mean for us if I went? Would he pretend not to know me? Would we talk about it? Would we rekindle our connection or finally cut it all off?

I kept reminding myself that I am a professional. I am a journalist. In those moments, I am not a lover, nor a friend, nor an ex, but a journalist. I can remain professional, surely he can too?

I am sure he can. He is the one ignoring my messages. He is the one pretending I don't exist. I guess I just have to do the same.

After I take his stuff to the thrift store.

After shovelling a bowl of leftover pasta in my mouth, I made my way upstairs and changed into pyjamas. Once I had pulled the sheets over my body, I noticed my phone illuminated on the bedside table. Picking it up, on first glance I nearly threw my phone across the room.

Tom: Hi, I am sorry I haven't replied. I'll be around tomorrow to get the stuff. Does 5pm work for you?

I was lost for words, my mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to take a breath. My hands were shaking, my fingers trying to type out a response but barely touching the right letters, having to backspace everything I wrote. Taking a deep breath, I wrote the shortest message I could so not to make any mistakes.

Kira: That's perfect :)

This only made my dilemma at work worse. Do I tell Tom I might be coming to Berlin to do interviews for his new movie? Do I pretend I don't know about it? Fuck, this was just getting worse.

Getting out of bed, I started pacing my bedroom, all the possibilities flooding my brain. I couldn't differentiate between good and bad ideas, right and wrong, what is best for me versus best for us and him.

Best for me says take the job, best for us says it'll make things complicated, and I was never good at doing what was best for me. Usually.

So it was in that moment I decided to say yes to Berlin and to not tell Tom.

Some would say that was halfway correct, but in my half asleep, 'trying to be more selfish' mindset, I couldn't have made a better choice. As I set my head down on the pillow to sleep, I tried to push away the thoughts of all the things that could possibly go wrong

-

The moment I clocked into work from my home office,  I sent an email to my manager saying I would 'gratefully accept the offer' and 'looked forward to the details of the job'. Within the hour, she had called me to discuss it all.

"You'll do both a group interview with the main cast and the red carpet, both to be edited for social media's, and a written review of the event and film," she noted as I scribbled this down onto the notebook beside me. "Interviews will be the four lead cast members, red carpet including the minor roles," more notes, "and Tom Blyth and Rachel Zegler, who you will also do individual interviews with." I paused.

Shit.

That would mean sitting with Tom (and a crew) in a room alone (still, with a crew) and talking to him about his new film, as if we didn't know each other. At the back of my mind, the nagging voice reminded me that we were both professionals and this was our jobs, but I couldn't help but feel intimidated and nervous about how it would play out.

Tom was always unpredictable. For our entire relationship, he frequently caught me off guard with his choices, decisions, words and actions. Even up till our breakup, he always honoured himself first with little regard for those around him or those impacted by his choices. This would be the thing that ultimately ended our relationship, haunting me to this day.

I always ask myself if I could have done something differently to change our fate, if I could have made things work, but I think it would have been prolonging the inevitable.

I've convinced myself it was never meant to be, but after nearly a year together it's hard to really let that sink in. How do you spend so long with someone for it to not be "meant to be"? Is that even possible? I often find myself considering our time together a waste of time considering it's ending.

Although, it isn't that long in the larger scale of life, but it was long enough to make me feel like he was the one. Yet, here I am, nearly 2 years from the day we met just wondering where it went wrong.

I miss him. I do. The breakup still shocks me as I grapple with the reality of our circumstances. I called my mum after it happened and, whilst she told it was for the best, every time I see your face, I can't help but think she is wrong.

The good moments were good. The bad moments, not so good. They were never bad, just not as good as the others, and often left us sitting at opposite ends of the couch refusing to exchange words until the other apologised. In that relationship, we were both stubborn and unwilling to accept the other. Since our separation, I had been working with my therapist to break down that stubbornness, and learning to be more open to others, with the hope it would bring more love back into my life.

Maybe a love named Tom Blyth.