𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖 • 𝕞.𝕔

chapter 4

•••

   I stepped out of my bathroom, the warm air that was around me turning freezing cold as soon as I stood in the threshold. I took a deep breath and sat on my bed, my skin shivering. I checked out my phone. No new messages. I rolled my eyes and proceeded to get dressed, finally. It was mid-afternoon, and for somewhat reason, I had thought that sleeping until 2 in the afternoon was a brilliant idea. But like most times, I'd been wrong.

 Instead of feeling freshened up, I only had the feeling I had been wasting most of my day uselessly.

    It'd been a month since this party I somehow hadn't forgotten. I'd moved on, I knew I'd never see the guy again, but somehow my thoughts always lead me to that one night. And I wasn't quite sure why; because so many things had changed in the space of only a little more than thirty days. I'd gotten a job, surprisingly fast. But I couldn't complain; I was on my way to achieve what I wanted most. I knew that I was officially a journalist, only in a small newspaper for the moment, but this was better than nothing. And I was proud of myself, so wasn't that what really mattered here? I had been looking forward to this when I was only a child.

Even then, I was writing about things that had happened around me. It had been a passion that had stuck with me for years. I was the kind of person who loved something too much, then lost it all. It seemed that each time I liked something more than anything else in the world, I lost interest after a while. It had always happened with everything. Friends. Music.

Lovers.

   But writing was still there, deep inside of me. I had never truly loved anything, but this. And there was that reassuring feeling about it; the feeling that it would never truly go away. And it gave me a feeling of confidence, that even if everything changed around me, this wouldn't. And quite honestly, that was what I needed most of all.

   On a more positive note, as I stared outside my window, I noticed that the trees in front of my apartment were already all blossomed. I had loved waking up to that view every single day. I mean, what was nicer than having beautiful flowers to wake up to each morning? I couldn't express my love for spring. It maybe was a metaphor, really; the fact that I liked the way everything started again after months of being dead, more beautiful than ever. It was like landscapes were resurrected; that the city came alive again. People were smiling more. Dressing with colourful colours again. Girls' hair would blow in the wind, along with their skirts. I liked spring; because, maybe, it made me believe that every cloud really had a silver lining.

   I liked to think about deep things most times. I was like that; the type of person who felt everything, and most of all, who felt the need to explain everything. I had always been curious, and don't get me wrong, it had taken me places; but also had caused great heartbreaks. Maybe thinking about things that were too complicated for me were the way I escaped reality. I asked myself too many questions, I overthought, and quite frankly, sometimes, it was exhausting and left my mind tired and angry. That was the down part. But it was my shelter, something that helped me avoiding my responsibilities, like...

Like the way I hadn't gotten my period this month.

   Really, what was there to say? 

I'd tried to think about all the possible things that could have happened. I had browsed the web for hours, hoping to find an answer to my problems. I was too much of a wimp to go to the doctor, because I was afraid that they would face me with the most dreadful of answer a young girl like me could get. 

Maybe it wasn't that important! Probably, surely even, it'd been because I had changed my eating habits. Or maybe I was slightly late, and there was nothing to be worried about. But something in a dark corner of my mind kept repeating me that I had gotten myself in a huge mess. That it was my fault. And how, you're asking me?

Because of the night I'd spent with that band member.

I obviously regretted it. I regretted it dearly. I wondered why I had been so foolish and thought it had been a brilliant idea to let him do whatever he wanted with me. But I wasn't blaming him completely; I was fully aware of the fact that, after a few drinks, I had kissed him first. And then, the rest had followed naturally.

   We hadn't texted since that one night. Not once; he hadn't tried to reach me, neither had I. I thought that we had both figured out that this would be the one and only time we'd ever meet and do anything with each other. Except that I had the sickening feeling that we would have to meet again. And for the most awful reason of it all. 

I was alone in this. I was highly suspecting the worst, but then again, who wouldn't have? It had been a month, and everything was possible. Anything could have happened. I refused to believe it, but the chances that I could be pregnant were high. What else could it be? I was tired of those sleepless nights, of these heavy thoughts surrounding me. But there was a chance, for fuck's sake.

And the thought of it made me want to rip my chest open to let all the sorrows out, instead of feeling them heavy on my chest, slowly drowning me.

•••

"Lee, are you okay?" Emma asked through the phone.

"No, Emma, everything is a huge mess," I managed to say, throat dry. I wasn't the type of being tongue-tied with Emma, but today, I couldn't help it.

"What's going on?"

I fiddled with the ends of my dark hair, taking a deep breath. "You know, I spent the night with a that guy the other night."

"This was ages ago," Emma said. "But I do remember?"

"Of course, who wouldn't," I muttered through clenched teeth. "I think something happened. I didn't get my period."

"No fucking way," she gasped.

  A long silence followed. I stood up and starting walking back and forth through my living-room. I was still in my towel, I hadn't moved much. I had somehow gathered enough courage to call my best friend, praying that she'd pick up quickly. And she hadn't disappointed me, this time.

"I need you," I whispered, the apprehension in my voice highly noticeable. I couldn't conceal it.

"Okay," she answered. "I'll be here in five minutes. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

•••