Wonderland // McFly

These Things Never Seem to Last Long

March 16, 2008

Yesterday was the day we all got back from Australia, and even though Dougie and I had spoken, I knew it was going to be awkward. He was going to have to take most of his things out of our house and then drop off his dog for his ex-girlfriend to watch.

I could almost gag at the awkwardness.

But for the most part, the process of moving Dougie out wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be, probably because we'd basically gone back to being the best of mates after we went to Taronga Zoo.

But it was still hard to think about. How much we did love each other.

But the truth was we couldn't be together. Remember when I had second thoughts about breaking up with Dougie after the zoo because I thought he had a revelation? Well he didn't have a revelation, and with out Gi or I to hold them back, the boys spent anytime they weren't in the studio on the last leg of their stay in Australia clubbing and drinking, especially Dougie.

But in all fairness, the album was good. Hell, it was great. The songs were extremely mature, much more mature than anything the boys had ever released before, except for maybe The Heart Never Lies.

Even though in the last bit of our relationship Dougie wasn't home very often, for some reason knowing that he wasn't going to walk in the door at some point at all today made the house seem so much quieter. And not in a good way. A bad quiet. The kind of quiet that took place after we had the awkward moment in the studio with Tom and Danny after we broke up.

So what did I do to fill the silence?

I baked. A lot.

Baking is a very loud activity, believe it or not. Especially when you're not great at it so you make a mess and your chocolate lab puppy is right under your feet waiting for you to drop anything edible.

"Flea, seriously, you're gonna kill me." I say, the hundredth time I trip over him. I was trying to make it to the front door after having heard a knock. Having Flea around really helped, and I was dreading Dougie taking him, but I knew it was only fair.

When I do get to the door, I'm greeted by Tom.

"Tom!" I exclaim. "Come in."

"Hey Lilly. Just come round to make sure all is well." He says, following me back into the kitchen.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" I ask.

"Well..." Tom starts, looking around, and I catch on.

"Oh...oh yeah. How's Dougie doing at yours?" I ask.

"He's good. Not hard to live with. Plus we've done it before." Tom smiles. "What...what are you doing?" He looks down at the assortment of trays and baked goods on my counter.

"Baking." I say. "Would you like some cake?" I ask, revealing a grand chocolate cake sitting on my counter.

"Thanks but I'm trying to be healthy." He smiles.

"Oh, then how about-" I start, pulling out a plate. "This banana loaf?"

"Uh...I don't like bananas." Tom says, starting to look questionably.

"Does Gi? Or Dougie? Seriously, I got to get this thing out of here I have seven others."

"Seven?" Tom exclaims.

"Well yeah, but I'm going to bring one round to Fletch, and Harry and Iz-"

"Lilly are you...grief baking?" Tom asks.

"What the hell is grief baking?" I ask.

"You know, when someone loses a person in their life they bake a lot to make up for it...or something like that." He says.

"Dougie didn't die, Tom." I say, looking at him like he was crazy.

Which he was.

"Oh my gosh, you're a total grief baker!" Tom says, looking at me like I had an actual problem, which I didn't.

Did I?

"How much have you made?" Tom asks. I shrug and turn towards my counter.

"Eight banana loaves, three cakes and four dozen cookies." I say.

"Four do- Lilly! You can't do this!" Tom says. "This is not a good coping mechanism!"

"Well, I told Danny I'd give him a banana loaf and a cake, and I'm sure he'll take some cookies-"

"No. You have to stop." Tom says.

"Tom, you're really making a mountain out of a molehill." I say, looking up at Tom. We have a stare off for about thirty seconds before Tom grabs the bags of sugar and flour off my counter and runs out of my house.

"Hey!" I yell, chasing after him, but he's too fast and he closes the door before I can catch up to him, so I give up. It's probably for the best. I sigh, turning and leaning against the door. Flea trots out and looks up at me.

"Well now what do we do?"

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