Thirty Days: Part One (4 page)

Realisation

Back in the safety of home, I can’t help but feel embarrassed by my…well, whatever that was. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve no clue what happened. Mum and Sammy sit on the couch beside me. They’re talking through the ‘incident’ as Sammy refers to it. Listening to bits and pieces, I become shocked when Mum sighs over the engagement news. Who the hell sighs about someone getting engaged? Shouldn’t she be happy?

“Will you two stop it? I’m fine. My guess is hunger caused it,” I bark, annoyed by their mumblings.

“But you didn’t end up eating. Are you hungry now? Should we make you something?”

Shaking my head, I refuse to reply.

“Why were you crying? I’m so worried, Abi.” Sammy’s voice is tense.

“I’m fine. Who’s being overdramatic now? Just drop it.” Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths, knowing all too well she won’t.

“This isn’t funny. I thought you were going to pass out. You frickin’ frightened me, all right?” Her eyes begin to well with tears. “Why were you crying?” she asks again, this time in a calmer tone.

I don’t answer, but instead drop my head.

“Mrs. M, she wasn’t just sobbing, she was howling. I’ve only seen you cry twice, Abi. What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, I don’t even know why I was crying. I don’t know what happened. Can we stop talking about this?” I yell, lifting my head.

They both jolt upright in their seats, staring at me.

What?

“Mrs. M, do you know if she’s okay? You’re a nurse. Should we take her to the hospital?”

Mum puts a reassuring hand on Sammy’s back and rubs small circles. “Oh, sweetheart, she’s going to be fine, calm down. Why don’t you go home? I’ll take care of it from here.”

Sammy’s eyes bulge from her head as her mouth falls open. “Not a chance, I’m not going anywhere.”

As Mum continues reassuring her, I take this opportunity to leave and find quiet in my bedroom.

“I should have never gotten out of bed.” I sigh, looking at the broken girl staring back at me in the mirror. The one with puffy red eyes, blotchy red skin, and eyebrows that could really do with a wax. “Get a grip, Abi, what’s wrong with you?”
I never cry anymore.

A soft knock against the door causes my head to turn as Sammy enters. “Abi, are you okay?” she murmurs.

“I’m fine, Ginger, come sit down.” I gesture towards the bed that has dried in our absence. “It’s not wet anymore,” I whisper.

“What isn’t wet, Abs?” Confusion draws her brows together.

“The bed, you clown.”

She giggles. “Good thing it’s summer.”

I nod.

“Do you want to talk about it, Abi?”

Standing, I fiddle with the hem of my dress. Sammy sits in front of me on the bed. “There really isn’t anything to talk about. I mean…did you know?”

“Know what?” She cocks her head.

“Did you know about the engagement prior to today?”

She sighs and opens her mouth before closing it again. By the expression on her face, I can tell she’s thinking carefully about what she plans to say. “Yes. Sophie rang me yesterday.”

Why didn’t she want me to know?

“Okay, so why didn’t you tell me? Or want Sophie to tell me?”

“I did. That’s why they came. I was hoping she’d wait until after we’d eaten, you know?” Her expression now fills with sympathy.
I hate sympathy.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Do you want me to leave, or can I stay? What will help?”

I close my eyes and just breathe. The silence is actually deafening. “I think I’d like to be alone, if that’s okay?” I can see her hesitation as she stands.

“Okay, but call me later, yeah?” she murmurs, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“Sure.”

Just before the door closes, words I intended to be a thought, exit my lips. “I hate him, Sammy. I really hate him.”

Turning back towards me, we make eye contact. “I know you do. We all do.”

The door closes softly, and I’m alone. This pain will never go away.
I’m doomed.

A Mother’s Love

My flowy dress falls to the floor as I slip on an oversized T-shirt. The covers nestle around me, and I lie there staring at the ceiling. Plain white, boring,
faultless
. I don’t think. I just stare at a single spot of dirt, or maybe it’s a dead insect, who knows.

“Abigail,” my mother calls from outside the door. “Can I come in, sweetheart?”

“Sure, Mum.” As it opens I roll onto my side and force a smile. There is really nothing to smile about because my life is like a minefield, filled with one disaster after another.
That fucking curse.

“Oh, petal.” She says before sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Rough day, hey?”

“You could say that.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Mum fiddles with her fingers in her lap. It’s weird because she never displays nervousness.

“Nothing to tell, really. I guess my wires got crossed up or something. I’m fine.”

“Honey, you haven’t been fine in a while. But it will get better. You know that, right?” Her hand brushes across my cheek. Soft caring hands. Ones belonging to a nurse and my mother.

“I suppose.”

“Do you want me to tell you why you felt the way you did in the restaurant? Or do you already know?” Her blue eyes stare with compassion.

“If you must. I’ve no clue.” Those silky fingers brush my cheek once more.

“Abigail, I think you might have had a panic attack. They’re nothing to freak out over and happen to the best of us at some point in our lives. Have you had one before?”

Panic attack? Surely not.
“Nope.”

“Okay. Well, if it happens again, let me know?” She blows blond bangs that fall covering her face.

“Sure thing.” Trying to dismiss her, I close my eyes. It doesn’t work.

“You’re having a rough time of it and I get that, after everything you’ve been through. These last six months have been hard on you. Poor Bella, rest in peace, and of course Mi—”

I cut her off immediately. “Do not say his name. Don’t,” I warn, my heart thumping hard in my chest.

Her body jolts back in shock. “Okay,” she says before taking a few lengthened breaths. “Can I get you anything?”

“A new heart.”

Mum smiles wearily. “The one that was created for you is fine, it’s strong. You need time, that’s all this is.”
I hate time
. “Petal, I have to work the night shift tonight, so I’m going to bed. Try not to get into any trouble and stay away from alcohol,” she warns with an outstretched finger.

“Yes, Captain.” I salute.

“We do heal, Abigail, even if you can’t see that yet.”

“I’m fine, Mum.”

“Okay, petal, if you say so.” Her lips are dry when they brush my cheek. As she sits upright I notice how worn out she looks and how slim her body has become. Bony collarbones protrude and her cheekbones look sunken.

“Mum?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, petal.” Dragging her tired feet towards the door, she turns back to look at me. “I love you, Abigail.”

“I know, Mum. I heart you, too.”

Kissing her hand, she blows gently against it.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “I’m not five, Mum. Don’t blow childish kisses at me.”

“You will always be my baby, Abigail.”

With that the door closes and she’s gone.
I will heal, hey? Unlikely.

Message alert.

I get out from under the covers and walk to the white dresser, located a metre from the end of the bed. My mobile rests on the DVD player by the television.

Sammy:
I’m sorry, Abs…for, you know?

Me:
I know. Shit happens.

Sammy:
Love you x

Me:
Ditto x

Sammy:
Back at work. Don’t forget about tomorrow night.

Me:
Do I have to go?

Sammy:
Yes.

Me:
Fine.

Sammy:
Be good x

Me:
Always am x

The bed is still warm from where I was lying as my body slides back under the covers. The cool air blowing from the air conditioning unit is my saviour from this heatwave. I eye that spot on the ceiling and try hard to think about anything but him. It doesn’t work. Mike is always in my thoughts now…I can’t block him out anymore.

Life’s Not Fair

Waking with a fright, I instantly notice my face is
wet
.
Was I crying?
My head turns towards the bedside table. Those numbers shine 2:00 a.m. I must have fallen asleep. An itchy throat causes me to cough hard.

“What gives?” I croak, irritated. “Water now.”

The kitchen is dark as I stumble over thin air. Running my hand across the wall that contains the light switch, I find it, turning it on. Sudden brightness causes my eyes to squeeze shut, but they soon adjust.
It’s so quiet.
My fingers trace along the marble bench until I reach the fridge.

“Water.” I remove a bottle from the door. “No food. Getting slack, Mother,” I grumble, on inspection of the fridge. I’m not hungry anyway.

A single container takes my attention. It sits alone on the top shelf with a sticky note attached. It says: ‘Abigail, eat’ in Mum’s handwriting. I scoff. Even when she’s not here, she’s still bossing me around. Removing the container, I pull back the lid. It’s some sort of healthy stir-fry. The contents go messily into a bowl before ending up in the microwave to heat.

“Five minutes should be enough.”

The water relieves the itch in my throat, and before long I’m sitting on the couch with dinner. It’s actually really tasty. I flick through television channels, frustrated.

“Shit. Crap. More crap,” I snap as each one changes quickly.

The lounge room is tidy apart from a single tea cup that rests on a coaster on the glass coffee table. Mum’s favourite blue throw rug is folded neatly and lies over the top of the plush lounge. Photos hang proudly on the wall above the television, pictures of me growing up. My green eyes sparkle, and my smile radiates happiness. That Abigail is
gone
. My expression glows, indicating a growing child who has so much to look forward to in life. If only she knew then what she knows now, none of this would’ve happened. In the corner of the room is Bella’s new dog bed, the only thing of hers I didn’t have the heart to throw away. It was a week until her birthday. I can still picture her curled up sleeping soundly. The day I lost her always present in my mind.

***

Hurried fingers tried to grasp my mobile. “Shit, this bag is like the Bermuda Triangle. What goes in never comes out,” I huffed before finally locating it with eyes still on the road.

It was Sammy. I pulled over to answer the call. She seemed hesitant, confused, and quite frankly hurt. “What’s wrong, Sammy?” I asked as she mumbled gibberish.

“Where are you?” were the first words she strung together that made any sense.