The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 51 - Moving On 101

I place my thumb over the week-old dent in the wall. It just about covers it. The base of the whiskey glass chipped the paint straight through and left a hole in the plaster deep enough for the brick to show. It grew a little over the past seven days but not much. I exhale into the early morning air while I think about the events of the past week.

Seven days.

It feels like longer. It feels like I left Keith and his little studio apartment months ago. Something inside me solidifies a little, proud of my small but noteworthy triumphs.

Baby steps. That's what Millie used to say when I first moved in with her. And that is what I'm doing. Baby steps in what I hope is the right direction.

As soon as Jeremy disappeared into his study after his little confession, I swept up the shards of glass, wrapped them carefully in a paper bag and binned them. I knew there and then we had a lot to figure out. But we had to do it slowly. One bit at a time. We're both carrying too much to focus on anything other than ourselves. Too much guilt, too much grief.

So, I took a deep breath and switched on my phone, eyes closed as the barrage of messages from Keith, Sosa and Jeremy flooded in.

I read through Keith's texts first. And then I called him. I thought I would break as soon as I heard his voice, worried and fragmented. But as I listened wordlessly, as he grovelled and made his lame excuses I just felt numb. There was no pain in my chest, no sob in my throat and my heart was at peace when I told him we were over.

I didn't break up with Keith because he cheated or because he hurt me. I broke up with him because it was high time we admitted we never really loved each other. Once the excitement of the first few weeks had passed, there was nothing left. We stuck together because it suited us both. He needed a pawn to lift him. I needed a safety blanket to hide under, a habit to drown myself in.

Of course, he blamed everything on Jeremy. He's too intrusive, too manipulative, too 'in my head.' Everything would be fine if it weren't for Jeremy, he said. I didn't even bother to set him straight.

Then, I deleted every last one of Sosa's messages without even reading them. I don't know what she possibly had to say after what she did but I wasn't ready to hear it.

Seven days later and my gut still wrenches when I think of her. I don't hate her. I wish I could. But I can't. And yet, I can't forgive her either. The betrayal I feel when I remember the messages on her phone, when I recall her sweet voice saying goodbye to me just before she left, makes me feel hurt and mortified.

Finally, I went through Jeremy's messages and my heart broke all over again. Each one was frantic and desperate. The guilt weighed deep and wide in my gut with each cursing plea to 'answer the damn phone.' He left one voice message, his voice barely recognisable as he begged and swore desperately.

I stared at the door of his study for over an hour after that, the events of the day swirling round and round in my head making me more confused and tired than I'd ever been as the shame sunk in. I drank the last remaining sips of his whiskey and sleep found me after that.

The next morning I woke up early, went to the supermarket and bought enough groceries for two. With a smirk on my face I distributed them all over the fridge ignoring Jeremy's His & Hers rule. I took his little note and scratched out the last bit so that it read, You can have anything you like.

I brought the rest of my stuff from Keith's apartment knowing neither he nor Sosa will be home at that time and left my key on the kitchen table. I sorted my clothes in Jeremy's wardrobe, next to his expensive suits and set my books on the dresser and windowsill and under the bedside table. Then I sat down and did some research on my phone.