The Thorned Rose

22

Fuck was all I could think of on the drive. Fuck. FUCK. Fuckfuck fuck. Fuckity fuckingfuck fuck, and various other ways of saying 'fuck'. 'WHAT THE FUCK?' also went through my head a lot. I finally stopped driving when I got to the car park of a local mountain, and practically ran all the way to the top, stopping for breather against the huge stone rock that indicated the summit. As I sat there, looking out over the exquisite views, my eyes started leaking. I put my finger up to my eye, and took it away, looking at the tiny drop of water that now rested on my fingertip. I studied it. It was so perfectly round and clean, completely different to my rough, calloused hands, covered in cuts, plasters and blisters. But this droplet, it was pure, and was a manifestation of all of the emotions I had held down for so long. As I turned my hand slightly, the droplet of water slipped down the side of my finger, resting in the gap between my two fingers, and then continued to fall down my hand, and I watched it all the way. Although only one drop of water came out of each eye, this was the first time I had cried in years, and the liquid that now coated my finger was the first tear.

I took out my phone from my pocket, the one with my mother's number on, and dialled. It picked up almost immediately.

"Hey honey," spoke my mother's soft voice.

"Hey mum," I closed my eyes, breathed out, and tilted my head back to rest on the rock.

"We miss you!" I heard her say.

"I miss you too... I'll try and visit soon, no promises though."

"Of course, darling."

"Mum?" I asked.

"Yes honey," she replied.

"When is my birthday... and how old am I?"

My mother chuckled at my question, "twenty-third of December, the day before Christmas Eve," she answered, "I'm surprised you forgot, it is right next to some very memorable dates."

"I don't celebrate Christmas either."

"Of course."

"And my age?"

"Oh yes, sorry, twenty-four, twenty-five in a month! Are you celebrating your birthdays again? If so, give me your address so I can at least send you a card!"

"No, no, nothing like that, I was just curious... I overheard a conversation about birthdays and realised I couldn't remember my own."

We finished off the conversation, and we said our goodbyes.

I didn't feel like going back to the house that night; I just felt like it would be really awkward when it didn't have to be, but I didn't have my purse, and I didn't fancy sleeping in my car that night when I had a perfectly good bed waiting for me back at the Russos. I made sure to wait till the early hours of the morning till I went back though, so hopefully I would be able to sneak into my room without meeting anyone. I quietly opened and shut the front door behind me and walked silently through the house. As soon as I went into the main living room, I made direct eye contact with Fabricio, who was sat on one of the sofa's, twirling a glass of whiskey around in his hands.

"Sav," he quickly stood up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say what I said, I think it was just the alcohol and the jealousy and I am so ready to forget it if you are?"

I smiled slightly at him, "pour me a glass."

We sat on the two sofas that were opposite eachother, sitting in the positions on the sofas that were directly opposite eachother, both silently sipping. We often made eye contact, before we darted our eyes away. I decided to start first, technically he already started the conversation when I walked in though, I was just starting to continue it...