irrevocably in love

chapter one

It's only been a couple of hours. It'll get better.

You've got this.

I repeated the last phrase over and over in my head, as I walked to the little Tesco 10 minutes from my house. We'd made the move back to London a mere few hours ago, and my dad had shoved a £20 note in my hand, sending me off to grab a couple of frozen pizzas for dinner tonight.

Oh, and beer. Two cases of beer, actually.

If only you were here, Mum. He'd never be like this.

Tears brimmed in my eyes at the thought of my mum. She was the best mum in the world. Most children tend to say their mothers are the best, but mine was genuinely loved by, not only me and my dad, but anyone she spoke more than two words to.

She was the sunshine of mine and my father's lives.

And she's gone because of me.

Similarly to how plants die from a lack of sunshine, my father had also withered from inside following the love of his life's demise. He was a hollow shell of his former self, wasting his days away drinking, and his nights gambling.

I can't blame him, I thought, as memories filtered through my mind.

Entwined hands. Warm hugs. One whispered confession.

I was only five, but I had never forgotten him. My love for him was like a furnace; the memories I carried only made the fire stronger. Made my love stronger.

After we moved to Manhattan, I tried to make friends but it wasn't possible. No-one played with me like he did. No-one listened to me like he did. No-one protected me like he did.

For a while, the children at my school tried interacting with me, intrigued by my accent. They tried getting me to join them and their friends. But I was never comfortable with them. And they just decided to leave me be.

Until five years ago.

The blaring of a car horn sounded, and I snapped back to reality. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realised I was stood at a zebra crossing, and a car was waiting for me to cross.

Blushing, I put my hand up to signify both an apology and thank you to the driver. He seemed to be engrossed in conversation on his phone, eyes focusing on his mobile.

He looked familiar but before I could even try to place where I could possibly have seen him, he sped off just as I reached the other side of the road.

He's probably someone that used to live in the area.

My dad didn't sell the house when we moved, so naturally it made sense for us to move back into our old home. The entire area had brought a wave of nostalgia over me, while I was staring out of the window of the taxi that had picked us up from the airport.

It was inevitable I'd have some vague recollection of people I saw in the neighbourhood. We were all quite close knit.

Especially me and him.

Brushing the recurring thoughts from my mind, I trekked the remaining distance to the supermarket.

I grabbed a basket whilst entering, mind once again invaded with thoughts that had plagued me for the last few hours; my parents, starting Year 13 tomorrow, wondering if he still lived here.