Chim - Every Mark On My Body

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Three months later

It’s been three months. Three months exactly, to the day, to the hour. Not that I’m counting. Not that after she left I sat in the same spot for hours. Thinking of her. Crying her. Breathing her. Not that I walked home in the pouring rain, the dingy weather reflecting me sombre mood. Not that I came home and flopped straight onto me bed and cried some more, with no caution about him. Not that I only left the house to pick up his gear, ignoring college and studying for the first two weeks, until Mrs Adams came to me house to see what had happened. Nah, course I didn’t.

Because why should I? She left us, right? Why should I cry and scream and hurt meself because of someone who clearly doesn’t care about us? I have to move on, surely.

But I can’t. Not when she insists on texting and calling and leaving voicemails that I try to pretend I don’t replay over and over every night. Because I long to hear her voice, but I can’t speak to her. I long to speak to her, but I don't know what to say. I long to yell at her, but I can't find me voice. I physically can’t bring meself to pick up the phone and tell her how much she hurt us. And it’s confusing because, the way I feel about losing her is the way one might feel after losing a lover. A partner. A soulmate. But I don’t love her. I mean, not in that way. She’s Kimberley. She’s a friend. She was a friend.

A friend that remembered me birthday, and insisted on calling throughout the whole day. The first message she left, she sung happy birthday and launched into some spiel about how I'm now an adult and I can be independant. How she hoped I had the best day, and she's sorry she clouldn't be there. How she's sorry in general. Amongst other things. Next message was just the spiel, almost word perfect actually. Third was just a 'happy birthday'. Fourth was an 'I miss you.' And the fifth? The fifth was just a sigh. The tonal beep sounded and there was a pause. A moment of silence where you could almost feel her preparing to speak. Feel the thick air heavy with tension, sorrow and regret. But then it vanished, and she released a defeated, desperate sigh. One that was course on the ear and painful for the heart.

And the rest of the day didn't exactly cheer us up. I decided to get up early on me 18th 'birthday' and take the long train journey to Newcastle. Once there, I went to Heaton. The place I grew up. I walked round the streets, reliving the first part of me childhood. All the happy memories I had here, when things were good. The way us and Will used to ride our little bikes all round the houses, our hair whipping wildly all over the place.

I'm speeding up rapidly, the sharp wind feeling like daggers as it hits me face. But I barely feel it. I just want to catch him. Will. I can't let him win again! I'm getting faster, gaining on him. Faster, faster, faster, until...

CRASH!

I rode head first into the biggest tree I've ever seen. I clutch me arm and moan, tears filling me young eyes. And then I feel meself being scooped up by a painfully skinny pair of arms.

'Don't worry Chezza, I'll help you get sorted. I didn't mean for you to get hurt. This is my fault.' And he kissed us, right on the nose.

And I went to me old house. Number 7, with its peeling yellow paint job and rusty yellow frame. And I looked through the side to the garden, staring at the bedroom window that Will used to climb through. I crouched down at our front garden wall, running me fingers along the deep scratching carved into the brick. 'Chezza' and beside it, 'Will' in his scruffy handiwork. And I looked up at one of the front windows. There I saw a little girl, no older than 5. Hair more orange than a carrot, and deep dimples that mirrored me own as she grinned at us, waving almost as if she knew us. I smiled, one of the few genuine ones that had graced me features recently, and I waved back. I waved goodbye as I set of on a long walk to the cemetery.