Falling Down Under (I) #Wattys2016

Part 14

The alarm woke me at six thirty. The bed side next to me was empty and cold. On the still crumpled pillow on which Tom had just hours earlier held me tightly, one of his business cards was resting. On the back, his mobile number was handwritten in blue ink with the text: "In case you change your mind. Thanks for everything."

And here they came again: Tears, gushing down my face. I felt sad that it was all over, devastated, empty, but most of all I was angry as hell that he'd just sneaked out on me. No good-bye, just a freaking business card. I guess he truly is the type of person he always said he was.

I'd been wallowing in self-pity for over half an hour, when I heard Sam call for me. Quickly, I went into the ensuite, washing the tears off my face. It only helped minimal. My eyes still looked swollen red from all the crying. Years ago I'd promised myself to not ever let a man take so much of me that he could hurt me, but here I was, crying my eyes out over and over again for the past week. I have the two most wonderful children and a job I like, I have great friends and that's all that matters, I told myself in an attempt to calm myself down.

Taking a deep breath, I got dressed for my day ahead at work. I chose pin-striped olive green suit pants and a white, short-sleeve shirt with a bow around the waist. A matching set of olive green and white jewellery, which Dave had given me for my last birthday, added a finishing touch to my outfit. The outfit was so well coordinated that it gave me a sense of control, something I had lost over the past week, and had completely vanished that morning.

Trying not to think about Tom, I put on a brave face and got the twins ready for school. When they asked for Tom, I simply told them he had to leave early due to a work emergency and was sorry he couldn't say good-bye. They both scowled but seemed content with my explanation.

Hannah called me while I was on the train to work. She would be leaving the hospital after lunch and had been asked to come to the police station the next day. I promised to come by in the evening, and of course to accompany her to the station.

I didn't expect Tom to be around work on the day he'd head back to Germany. After an emotional roller-coaster train ride of confusion, sadness and disappointment, I finally locked my personal feelings away and concentrated on the professional tasks ahead of me. Confidently, I entered the Hefcon building. Tanya greeted me with a deadly look when I opened the main office door, which I simply ignored. As usual, Kate was already there and welcomed me with a big hug.

"The Living Free Fundraiser was a huge success. I just had a first look at some of the feedback we've received." It was good to see the always energetic Kate.

"Have you had a look at the figures yet?" I asked, aware that the real success would be based on dollar amounts rather than happy guests.

"Not yet. I thought we'll first celebrate and then dig into the numbers."

"Sounds like a plan."

"I've got home-made banana cake."

"Yeah!" Hannah's cakes were famous in the office. As I had felt too sick in the morning to have breakfast, I was now really hungry. We settled in the kitchen and talked about the fundraiser. The kitchen was a large room with a glass wall facing the foyer. It was furnished in a modern chic style and was a great place to hang out and gossip. Kate was just telling me how her husband had made a fool of himself on the dance floor Saturday night, when the kitchen door opened to the foyer. There he was.

Tom was standing outside the glass wall with Michael and two of the other managers. The shock of seeing him again sat deep in my bones. Tom looked straight at me, his eyes wide open. He looked pale, shocked like he, too, didn't expect to run into me again. This is my workplace. What does he think? Tom nervously tousled his hands through his hair. He appeared stressed. Then he looked away, moving his gaze to the floor. His lips formed two different sounds which I couldn't make out. My imagination made me believe it meant sorry, but that's probably what it was: Only my imagination.