You Really Got A Hold On Me

It's All Too Much

It was the next morning after my argument with Paul. Unfortunately for me it was still a weekday so I reluctantly got out of bed and forced myself to get ready.

I felt awful, all groggy and I had an awful headache due to lack of sleep. I didn't get much shut-eye last night - I was still too upset about what had happened. My finger ran over the mascara stains on my cream pillow - it served as a reminder of what had happened, of the salty tears I had cried because I had found out that my boyfriend was not the person I thought he was. 

I didn't tell Dad what had happened because I wasn't ready to talk about it yet and saying it out loud would make it seem more real somehow. So when he called me for dinner I splashed my face with water, cleaned my mascara ridden eyes and forced a smile. Luckily Dad was none the wiser, unaware that my apparent normality was just a facade to get through the meal. 

I thought about calling Abby after Dad left for work but it would have been painful to explain it over the phone - rather than having her with me for comfort all I would have had would have been her disembodied voice on the end of the line, somewhere in the distance as I pressed the cold hard receiver to my ear. So I decided to speak to her in person but I figured she'd be with George that evening, she had gone back to his place so I decided I would wait until the next day - today. 

My eyes looked a little red as I glanced in the mirror - attempting to fix my mess of hair. My head throbbed unmercifully - last night had been a long night. I had lay awake most of the time thinking. Thinking about Paul and I, about our argument, about what would happen next. Sleep was no match for my whirring brain - hence my headache this following morning.

I pulled on my uniform and tried to make myself look halfway decent before heading downstairs for breakfast. 

Dad said I looked a bit rough, I lied and told him I was up late doing homework so I didn't get much sleep last night. 

Soon I was out the door and waiting at the bus stop for Abby. When I saw her approaching she waved joyfully at me and I felt a little better knowing that I would be in her company. 

I wanted to smile, to greet her normally and ask her to spill the beans on her evening with George yesterday but seeing her - knowing that she was the one person I was closest too, that I could trust her and tell her anything and that she would listen , I felt those dreaded tears again. Sometimes little things made me want to cry, or an odd mixture of feelings. Right now, it was not only the incidents of last night that brought on those tears but that feeling was also mixed with the knowledge that Abby would be there for me - her comfort also seemed to make well up. 

I didn't want to cry again, I felt stupid, but tears have this unprecedented way of invading your eyes and refusing to disappear no matter how many times you tell them to. 

When Abby got closer to me she saw that I was upset and rushed forwards, taking me in a hug. 

"Michelle? Michelle, what's wrong?" she asked, concern in her voice as I hugged her back not wanting to let go. 

I tried to answer her but a lump had formed in my throat and that made it difficult. She unwrapped her arms and pulled her sleeve down to wipe my eyes. 

"What happened?" she asked, "do you wanna talk about it?"

I couldn't speak but I nodded.

"Is it about Paul?" she asked cautiously. I nodded again. "Wanna go somewhere to talk about it?" 

I sniffed and tried to wipe away my cheeks. "But what about school?" 

"Stuff school" Abby said, "we can bunk off, I'm not letting you go to school like this."