Where the Stars Fall

34 | The hurt inside

Three weeks later...

"OH BOY, YOU'RE so getting on my nerves," my sister yells over the phone. "Listen to me, you either fight for her or you stop drowning your sorrows in loneliness! And stop keeping us all out! The kids miss you. Even I miss you. And mum needs you now and you well know Dad shouldn't be watching this. So do something about it, for crying out loud!"

"This is really a bad time. I'll call you–"

"Don't you dare! You've been rejecting all my calls for days, so now you shut up and listen! Stop bottling up and holding it in like it doesn't hurt! Throwing yourself into work and shutting yourself in at home is not going to make things better. So tomorrow, we're having our Sunday family brunch and you're not going to stay in bed again. The moping and wallowing is over! Are we clear?"

"Sue, I'm in the middle of Holland Park. Can't we discuss this later?"

"If you don't move your arse and show up tomorrow, I'll go and drag you there myself, you hear me? I'm a bundle of nerves as it is, so you don't want to mess with me!" she blurts out and then hangs up. Just like that.

Two seconds later it rings again.

"It's her birthday today. Call her, you stubborn arse."

"I can't. Besides, why would I want to hear again how much she hates me, huh?"

"Well, if she doesn't love you, who cares if she says she hates you? Then you'd just have another good reason to stop giving a shit! Now go. See you tomorrow."

After pulling my hood over my head and tucking the earbuds back into my ears, I close my eyes and take a long deep breath.

My throat feels tight as the sharp, cold morning air enters my body and swirls around in the empty pit I have in my chest. My lungs burn. It's almost as painful as the jolt of pain I feel inside every time I ask myself if I'm worth anything at all. Why doesn't she miss what we had? The laughs, the comfort, the nearness. The plans we made, the promises we said we would keep. My hands running through her hair, brushing her lips, skimming over her body...

Trying to chase away the brutal truth – hurt hasn't worn away and it sucks terribly – I turn up the music loud, loud enough to smother my thoughts and the memories.

Then I take a few long steps. The initially slow, rhythmic pace easily shifts into quicker strides and I start running, faster and faster, as fast as my heart can bear, faster than I imagined I could. My heart threatens to burst out of my chest and my legs burn, but the more they burn, the more I run, ignoring the pain, pushing through it. Until it all stops hurting.

*

On my way home, I stare at the empty new-text box, wondering what to write.

'I hope you have a wonderful day. Happy Birthday'?

'Thinking of you on your birthday and wishing you a beautiful day'?

What the fuck are you doing?

'Wishing you a day that is as special as you are'?

Yes, that last one was just brilliant!

You shouldn't write anything at all. Maybe you shouldn't even give a toss about her in the first place, you idiot!

An incoming call from Jake comes in the middle of my dilemma, solving it immediately. I quickly conclude I'd better give up on the idea, it was stupid anyway, and swipe my finger across the screen.