Thirty Days: Part One (3 page)

“It’s not funny. He spilt coffee down the front of me.”

“Yes. He did. But you bumped right into him. You’re naturally clumsy and for someone who’s already around one hundred and seventy-five centimetres, those shoes were too high.”

My face screws up tight. I can see my reflection in the built-in mirror across from the bed. It’s a reflection that no longer resembles the girl I used to be. Instead, she’s been replaced with someone who looks foreign with matted blond hair, dried out skin, and heavy bags under dull green eyes. Eyes that used to sparkle. I shake my head, telling myself that this is my life now, and I’m happy the way it is.

“Earth to Abi. Shoes too high. Coffee house...”

Snapping back into reality, I exaggerate my scowl. “He should have been looking where he was going.”

“No! You should have been looking where you were going and worn appropriate footwear. Plus, he tried to apologise even though it was clearly not his mistake, but you stomped off yelling, ‘It’s the curse.’” She smiles before a little giggle escapes.

“It’s not funny, dammit. I could have been burnt to death.”

Sammy’s arms cross over her chest. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

I shake my head and throw my body against the mattress. “What about the two tickets from the cops I got yesterday? Huh?”

“Well, you parked in a handicap space, and you’re clearly not handicapped. Well, not physically anyway.”

“Hey!”

“The second ticket was because you drove the wrong way down a one-way street.” Her eyebrows lift as she bends down like a mother would to a disobedient child.

“Firstly, what are the chances that the police would be in the exact location I am, twice? And, secondly, if those people would have just reversed, I would’ve been fine getting through that way. I mean…I beeped my horn enough for them to realise they needed to back up.”

“Nothing’s ever your fault anymore, is it?”

“Whatever.”

“You got tickets for doing the wrong thing, Abi. Snap out of your brat state and get dressed. We’re going to lunch, my shout.” She becomes irritated as she stands upright once more.

“Yeah, not happening. I’m staying right here for the day, thank you very much. Now run along, Ginger, and get back to work. Some of us have sleeping to do.” Pulling the doona over my head, I hope and pray to God that Sammy leaves. She doesn’t. She opts for the glass of water from the bedside table, tipping it over my head. “Sammy! I’m going to fucking strangle you!” I scream, leaping from my now wet pillow and sheets. “I hope you know you’ll be cleaning that mess up.”

“Good, because your room smells, and you’re obviously depressed.”

“Does not stink! And I’m not depressed.”

“Well, it has a unique odour. A combination of mould and arse.”

I grit my teeth and pull my nightshirt over my head, stomping towards the en suite enraged.

“Best be getting dressed, Dorothy,” she says, with an evil glare.

I hate Sammy.

Lunch for Two

I freshen up before putting on a summer dress. It’s November and it’s hot already. Summer and I have a love-hate relationship. I love it when I’m in air conditioning twenty-four hours a day. I hate it when I have to leave said air conditioning. Why my parents decided to live in such a humid country makes me angry. Shit, everything makes me angry lately. Even chocolate, and chocolate is my lover. I guess that’s a fucked relationship, too. It’s delicious, but by the block it makes me sick and it’s probably responsible for my clothes being a little tighter than normal.

I slip flat sandals onto feet that beg for me to get them off and crawl back under the covers. That’s not going to happen since Sammy coated it with water.
Bitch
. Dragging my tired body into the living room, I find my bestie and Mum whispering in some sort of top secret code. They’re close and hunched into each other. It’s obvious they’re talking about me. Those two are in cahoots.

“So what are we discussing, ladies?” I ask in a sarcastic way. They obviously didn’t notice my entrance and both jump backwards, putting space between each other.
Totally sprung.

“Oh…you know, the weather,” my mother says, her face flushed from being caught in action.

“And the newsroom,” Sammy adds before taking a glass to the kitchen and returning.

“Well, they are both great topics of conversation. I’m sad I missed it.”
Liars.

“We didn’t hear you come in, sweetheart.” Mum pouts, walking over to me, pulling my head forward and kissing my cheek. “How are you feeling today, petal?”

“Like flowers blooming in spring, Mum. Never better.”

Sammy rolls her eyes at me and then huffs. “Save us the sarcasm, will you.”

“What? I feel great.”

“Yeah, and you look it.”

“See. Flowers in bloom…spring…happiness.”

“If you say so, petal.” Mum smiles before wishing us a great day. She then winks at Sammy, which pisses me off.

“Come on, Ginger, you’ve gotten your way. Let’s go,” I complain, waving my hand upon exiting the front door.

“Seriously. Is Ginger going to be my new nickname? I ask because I hate it.”

“Well, yes, now you ask. It suits you. The ginger hair. The pale skin. Those blue eyes. Definitely a Ginger. No longer a Sammy.” A giggle slips out.

As we get into her Mazda 6, I question her about my new label.

“What’s with Dorothy, anyway?”

She begins to laugh, obviously pleased by her own creativity. “The Wizard of Oz. You, my friend, are lost and in need of finding your way home.”

“I know where I live, so Dorothy is a stupid name.”

“If you say so.”

Pulling up outside our regular meeting place, we glance at each other briefly. Ginger chews on her bottom lip.

“The Coffee Club,” she states strangely, although it’s obvious where we are. We come here all the time.

Making my way from the car, I trip on the guttering. No surprises there. Swearing a few times, I look towards Sammy, who’s giggling to herself. Of course, she finds my antics funny. I, on the other hand, am sick of this curse.

“Come on, hop along,” she calls back to me, entering the restaurant. “Booking under Spencer,” she states as I catch up.

“Spencer. Yes. Your party has arrived. Please follow me.”

“Party...? Sammy, what party?” I whisper in confusion. She says nothing and before long I’m faced with said party. Ange and Sophie.
Great.

“Samantha. Abigail. It’s so great to see you.” Sophie stands and rushes towards us.
Back up, crazy!

Okay. I don’t dislike them, but for the last six months being around people is something I can’t tolerate. People are annoying. Sophie is dressed in the latest fashion. Her short blond bob is styled perfectly, and as always she radiates beauty. I can’t help wanting to mess her hair a little. I mean, when did messy ponytails go out of style? Ange is a quiet person, but she too is well presented, not a brown strand out of place, nor a single lash framing her wide dark eyes not neatly curled. I want to say, ‘
Why do we have to do lunch with people?’
Instead, I just force a smile and accept a soft kiss to the cheek from the red stained lips belonging to Sophie.

“O.M.G!” Her excitement is apparent as we sit down. “I have so much to tell you, Abigail.”

Sammy starts moving her hand back and forward in front of her neck. The universal sign for shut that conversation down.

What is that little pain in the arse trying to hide from me?
Normally, I would roll my eyes and fake interest, thinking about my own shit rather than actually listening. But good old Sammy has sparked my curiosity. Time to pull out the big guns.

“O.M.G. Seriously, I cannot wait to hear all about it, Sophie. It’s been too long. I’m afraid I’m completely out of the loop on everything. Order me a thick shake, will you, Ginger? I can’t wait to hear about this.”

Sammy’s eyes grow big and the fake smile she’s displaying is funny. “Why don’t we do the catch-ups after we order?” she insists.

“Really? I think we should hear her news first. Why don’t you read the menu and get your order ready?” Placing both of my hands under my chin, I stare into Sophie’s sapphire blue eyes.
God, they sparkle.

Ange interrupts my observation. “I’m actually pretty hungry, and I’m with Samantha. Food first.”

There’s a moment of silence. It’s like the other patrons dining in the restaurant also refrain from speaking at the exact same time.

“Well, if you two are starving so badly, we will order.” Blowing out an annoyed breath, I place the menu in front of my face. What could Sophie have to report that Sammy is trying to prevent? We order the same, chicken Caesar salad. “Where were we?” I clear my throat while the menus are being collected.

“My news,” Sophie gushes.

“Oh yes, how could I forget? Well…what’s got you so excited?” I prod, looking towards Sammy, who shakes her head.

“Okay. So you know how Rodger and I moved in together last year?”

How could I forget? I mean, we were gifted a month of social media updates on Chatterbox about every little thing those two did while sharing a new home. I get annoyed picturing all their stupid deco photos. Seriously? Who posts pictures of yellow cushions?
Nobody cares, Sophie
. Realising my mind drifted away from the conversation at hand,
I try hard to focus
.

“Well…” She draws out whatever she so desperately wants to tell me. “Yesterday morning…on the beach right across the road, Rodger got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.” Throwing her hand out into the middle of the table causes me to cringe. A shiny diamond sparkles under the lights and, in that very moment, I feel as though I’ve been punched in the guts.

Ange and Sammy go all squealy with congratulations. I fear that I’ve turned whiter than old Ginger’s legs beside me. Why must people try to be happy? It doesn’t exist.

I want to scream,
‘He’s going to destroy you,’
but instead I smile and mutter the words, “That’s great. Congrats.”
Fuck!

The room begins to feel extremely small, and heat rushes through my limbs. “Is it hot in here?” I grab a jug that was already on the table and begin gulping down the ice cold water.

“You could use a glass, Abigail, that’s disgusting,” Sophie says, appalled.

“Seriously, is it steaming hot in here?”

“No, it’s actually a little nippy with this air conditioning,” Ange answers.

What’s happening?

Sammy must see the distress on my face. She excuses us quickly and pulls my arm, dragging us into the restrooms. “Abi, what’s the matter? Are you okay? You’ve gone so pale.”

Looking towards her, I can see concern etched on her face. With each passing second, everything becomes blurry.

“Abi, talk to me, please? What’s wrong?”

I try to talk, but can’t. My body lowers to the floor.

“Oh, crap. I’m calling an ambulance. I’m going to go get my phone, sweetie. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“No,” finally leaves my lips as I latch firmly onto her arm.

She lowers herself down beside me.

Without warning, tears flood from my eyes, and I begin to sob hard.