Days Of Us

20 -Day The Twentieth-

-Day The Twentieth-

Friday, week 8.

The night of the wedding- which she began to refer to as that night in her head- had been one of impulses and illy thought out plans. As soon as she got to the house, with her anger and fear ruling over her every thought, she began packing her possessions into whatever boxes and bags she could find. She planned to leave the next day, get away from the city and the mess it had caused in her life.

But she couldn't just up and leave, as she came to realise. She had to work for another two weeks in Dennis' Bar until they found someone worthy of employing in place of her, and she had to pay another month's rent in her house. For the time being, she was stuck in Dublin city, taking the same bus, walking the same streets, looking up at the same building every day and slaving in the same bar. And in her room, all her belongings sat waiting in boxes, egging her on, telling her to get a move on, they wanted to leave. For the time being, she had to turn a blind eye to them.

Her anger had been intense and, though she had directed it all at Ray, it was at herself. It was ridiculous, she knew that, but she also knew that she would do anything in her power to get out of a situation that she wasn't comfortable in. And if that meant shooting down the most compatible person for her that she had ever met, so be it.

"I haven't seen your boy in a while, where's he at?" Judy asked her, knocking her out of the daze that had cause her to be drying the same glass for the last five minutes. Lydia always imagined Judy to be like one of those southern American girls with the beehive hairstyle, fake tan and empty mind- even though her hair was normal height, her skin almost as pale as Lydia's and she had a pretty standard Irish accent.

It was a simple question that she had asked but that was just it: everything was simple with Judy. Everything came easy in her life and she didn't need to bother with anything. She could hang around in the kitchen all day flirting with the cute Italian guy who was spending his summer chopping food in Dublin. Still, she would get a pat on the back and all the tips from the jar as a bonus for being a good girl from her Uncle Gerry. She left spilled salt and drinks on the tables and put half empty sachets of sauce back in the bowls- but it was fine because she was just a little angel. She could do no harm in Gerry's eyes, and Lydia was sick of it.

Lydia bit her lip, turning away from the girl to stop herself from screaming at her. Judy obviously didn't get the message, as she followed after her, fluttering her eyelashes as she always did. "He was so cute. He always came to see you at work and the way he looked at you was, like, so romantic. He must have-"

Lydia slammed her hands down on the counter, causing Judy's chatter to come to an abrupt halt. "Get away from me, Judy," Lydia hissed, breathing deeply through her nose in an attempt to calm herself down.

"Oh," Judy gasped. "Did something happen?"

Flick. It was like all the thoughts in Lydia's mind had been painted red with anger and she couldn't find any of the sense that had once been there. She was detached from the whole situation. She was an onlooker, although it was still her that pushed Judy roughly against the wall and it was still her that shouted profanities in her face while their customers watched in shock. It was still her that was practically dragged away by her boss and told to never step foot in the bar again.

And as she marched down the street, Dennis' Bar embroidered tshirt-less, it occurred to her that she didn't know what freedom was, even when it hit her right in the face. In Dublin city, working in a shitty bar and living by herself, she had felt stifled. She had never felt the rush of energy that she got whenever she finished a long run or a good book. The only time she had felt it was when she was with Ray and all her cares were gone and she was laughing and he was looking at her like that and she was trying not to look at him like that. But things like these- relationships like these- were fleeting, at least, they were for Lydia. That was what she got for being who she was.