Many Miles Apart

42. Alfie

It was raining when I landed in Heathrow airport, a thick drizzle that coated the windows of the plane like a blanket, so that all you could see were the foggy clouds in the sky. It clung to my arms as I walked into the main building, and made me shiver. It still fell as I made my way slowly through the building, casting the whole building in a cold, dull light. As I walked out of the airport and into a taxi, it blew into my face, causing me to squint. As we drove, the droplets drummed on the roof of the car, cascading down in sheets, causing a constant, hollow, echoing noise as each droplet fell and shattered against the glass.
I stared blankly out of the window as the car drove down countless roads, watching the world go by. Unlike America, as soon as we left London, all that surrounded us were fields. Rolling hills and flat lands and green. Green. The colour of calmness and tranquility. Well I felt as far from calm or tranquil as possible. Every passing patch made me want to scream, like I was trapped in a world of never-ending blankness, dulled by the grey sky. It wasn't being in England, I was so glad to be home, it was the knowledge of what was coming that was driving me crazy. Nervousness and dread had seemed to set up camp in my stomach, and the same questions span around my head in an endless tornado. What if she refused to see me? What if I couldn't persuade her that the only person I could ever love was her? What if I succeeded, and made her see how it really was, and she still didn't want me? What if she had actually moved on?
I felt sick, and I couldn't stop the occasionally flurry of tears falling down my cheeks, like the rain that fell outside. I didn't even know what it was that was making me cry. I couldn't tell whether it was anger at what Rebecca had done, sadness at the fact that I'd caused both of us so much pain, or fear that I may have ruined absolutely everything. The taxi driver seemed to twig that I didn't feel like talking, either that or he didn't want to speak to me, but either way the journey was silent. Painful and silent.
Eventually, the car drove over a hill, and the sea came into view. It wasn't clear at all, and it was hard to tell where the sheet of cloud ended and the water started. But it was there. And it was home.
We entered Brighton slowly, stuck in a row of traffic. It seemed that I wasn't the only one that needed to get back.
I turned my phone back on as it had been off after the flight. I hadn't bothered before as I didn't want to know what was happening. I just didn't care anymore.
Waiting for the device to connect to the broadband, I stared at the floor of the taxi. It's carpet was worn and scuffed, and there was dust and dirt scattered around my feet. The original black colour had faded to an off-grey, and in places it was even lighter from a succession of shoes. It was battered and beaten, but it was surviving. I guess that's how I had to be.
My phone finally connected, and I unlocked it to just two texts. One was from my mum, the other from Tanya, sent almost a day ago. Confusion washed over me, as I opened it. What else would Tanya have to say?

Zoe's decided to see you, T x

A shiver shot down my spine like a bullet, landing in my stomach and causing a eruption of emotions. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to jump into the air, I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout and whoop and yell. I wanted the taxi driver to pull over so that I could climb out of the car and run through the fields. I wanted to run and run and run until I couldn't go any further. Because even if I failed, even if after our talk we decided never to speak again, at least I would know that I tried.
The excitement quickly changed to fear, cold, dark fear that spread through my limbs, infecting every cell with its terrifying energy. What if I couldn't make things better? What if she wouldn't listen to me? What if she didn't believe me? What if what if what if?
I quickly texted my mum to tell her I was in Brighton, the first time I'd actually answered her messages, but my thoughts were still elsewhere. I felt bad that I hadn't replied sooner, but I couldn't bring myself to.
My 3G connected, and a notification popped onto my screen. I opened Twitter, where my mentions were exploding. That was usual I guess, but considering the fact that I had quite a few DMs too, I started to feel a bit confused.
I opened my direct messages, a clicked on the first one from my friend Max.
Hey mate, you were on the plane so I wasn't sure but I think you should see this in case you haven't already http://www.zoella.co.uk/2015_78_44_archive.html/47h4
Panic swelled in my chest as I read the text. It was for Zoe's blog. I clicked the link, and waited for my phone to load. Each second felt like an hour, and each turn of the loading symbol made me want to throw my phone out of the window.
Eventually it loaded, to a blog post from the night before. I felt sick to my stomach. Slowly, I scrolled through the writing, and read.