Valerie's Guide To Postponing a Breakup

Bicycle

Good morning, Leo.☺

I always try so hard not to stare at my phone awaiting a reply—my optician would be shaking her head right now, judging me—but sometimes it's hard not to. My heart does a little jump inside of me when the read receipt ticks turn blue. I see that he's typing, but then he's not. He's typing again—WhatsApp plays this teasing game with me until the message comes in, and I let out a breath, my worries growing smaller.

Morning, he's replied. No emojis. Just that word.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach as I put my phone down.

You're just being stupid about this, Valerie. I mean, when you roll out of bed in the morning, you're a monster. You can't expect Leo to be all sunshine and daisies right away. Besides, he was feeling unwell yesterday.

Did you just wake up? I ask him, followed by a crying with laughter emoji.

No, comes his answer, equally as dry as the last.

I frown at my phone screen, scanning over our recent images to see if I've missed something blatantly obvious.

I haven't.

I sigh through my nose, typing out another message that will instantly confirm my growing suspicion.

So... Are you free today? I hear there's a really good movie coming out today.

His reply is instant.

No, Valerie, I'm busy. Maybe another day, alright?

My jaw nearly falls to the floor. Not only did he just turn me down with a frightening bluntness that Leo would never use, but he used my full name—over text.

Is that you behind that screen? I type, trying to sound light-hearted and jokey rather than an accusatory, whiny toddler.

He sends back a voice note, and I hesitantly press play. "Real mature, Val." Leo's voice says, clearly unamused. "Can't you accept that maybe for once I have something else to do?"

I'm sorry. I respond because I know if I send a voice note of my own, I won't be able to stop my voice from shaking.

Grow up, Valerie. He's not always going to want to hang out with you. There are times when people like to be alone or when they simply have stuff to do. Cop on to yourself.

I turn off my phone, pushing back my disappointment.

Leo's busy. Mum is being insufferable, as usual. I've got no one at all whatsoever. All of my college friends are away on holiday in Verona, Italy, but Mum said I couldn't go since we're not 'made of money.'

And it's pretty depressing to face-time your friend group when all of them, save for yourself, are on the other side of the screen.

I take off my glasses, folding them up and placing them on my bedside table, when I feel tears gathering in my eyes.

Stop crying.

You're twenty-two.

Some days, I'm so happy that I feel like I can fly. And other days, I'm miserable. It makes me wonder if I'm the reason. Or if I should just suck up my problems and stay on the sunny side of life. But somehow, it's always so, so hard. I've been trying so hard to be satisfied, but in reality, nothing is okay, and all my happiness is temporary.

All my happiness is attached to other people.

___

I press play on my laptop again, my watery smile growing as I hear my twelve-year-old voice screeching in the video. "I TOLD YOU I CAN'T RIDE A BIKE! DON'T YOU DARE PUSH ME!" Mum giggled into the camera, and despite my protests, Dad pushed me off along the road that was barely even sloped—but as a twelve-year-old who still couldn't ride a bike, anything not completely flat was terrifying. Mum and Dad's laughs mingled with my screams for them to stop recording when I nearly fell off the bike—but, thankfully, I didn't. I kept cycling off along the road until all you could see was my frizzy red hair underneath my helmet.

"That's it!" Dad had yelled after me. "You're doing it!"

I laugh to myself as the video ends.

"You were watching your dad's old videos?"

I snap my laptop shut, turning my head to glare at Mum. These days, she moves across the house and through the halls just like a shadow. You never hear her coming. Which is surprising since years ago she would sing around the house like she was in the opera, and she'd come dancing up the stairs, still belting out all the top hits without losing her breath.

I suppose it's something built into you when you're a dancer.

But Mum isn't anymore.

She's just... Mum.

The brighter, more lively version of her died a long time ago. It's almost as if this current version of her is just a ghost.

"What do you want?" I ask flatly. She smiles at me. I don't smile back. "I was just passing your room when I heard the video," Mum explains. "I couldn't help myself." "Leave me alone," I tell her, my voice wavering ever so slightly. I'm not sure if she notices. "Valerie." Her eyes soften. "I know you miss him. It's okay." "He wouldn't have left if he loved us," I mutter. "I just woke up one day, and Dad was gone, along with everything else he ever owned, including that stupid picture that left that nail in the wall over the mantlepiece." My voice rises with that last sentence, and I feel tears prick at my eyes. "Just go away, Mum. I don't feel like crying anymore today."

Mum opens her mouth to reply, but amazingly, she doesn't argue. Instead, she says two words that mean more than I'll ever tell her.

"I understand."