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Chapter Two

Awakening my body, one muscle at a time, I sent a quick good morning up to my parents and sat up in bed. My room was an absolute mess and today was going to be spent cleaning and organising before continuing my hunt for the perfect house.

If someone were to write the story of my life based on how I appeared this very second, it wasn’t likely to be a bestseller. The narrative arc would follow an unemployed 29-year-old, living in her best friend’s spare room, actively looking for both work and a place of her own. It would then be complemented with a completely unflattering and bleak cover which even I would judge.

Yet here I was, having apparently graduated from therapy, still living out of my old, tattered suitcase with clothes discarded into piles so I could separate my dirty laundry from what was clean. There was nothing high maintenance about my current situation and for another night it was a queen size bed for one.

No fanfare, no joy – other than the Egyptian cotton sheets which I most certainly wasn't funding, but a most gracious recipient. The soft, fresh linen only aiding in prolonging me staying here, but sheets aside – my room was a reflection of my restlessness. I was itching to order my life and get back on the horse.

Throwing the covers off, I quietly tiptoed down the hall and into the kitchen I would never grow tired of admiring. It was almost laughable that my best-friend lived in a place which would make grown adults weep – myself included – while I was terrified to open my banking app for fear of the numbers blinking back at me, or lack thereof. I’d made a habit of checking listings every night and found a few nice places which appeared perfect. Something small, safe and cosy – a space I could make my own which wasn’t too far from Arna. While it was a little longer before I could access my inheritance, I was scheduling some visits this week to see if the photos were accurate representations of what was on offer.

It was an exciting albeit nerve inducing time.

My contented sigh filled the quiet confines of the apartment as I took out my favourite mug. The floral design long ago faded, a small chip in the handle which was there the day I bought it from the local thrift shop. Mum had taken me shopping and said I could choose anything I wanted. Of course, the mug with the brightly coloured sunflowers sang to me and I had to have it, chip and all.

Coffee in hand, I moved to the bay seat overlooking the balcony and cityscape to enjoy the serenity only this time of day could afford. My parents used to joke that I couldn’t be engaged in conversation before my first mouthful of caffeine and in the years since leaving home, I couldn’t say much had changed. I wasn't a good person without my latte and my mouth salivated at the thought of the rich nutty sweetness provided by the sneaky drop of caramel I liked to add. Reaching for the throw, I got comfortable and leaned into the wall – basking in both the warmth and comfort of the early morning sun.

Thinking of my parents brought forth the ever-present, raw grief. It had proven to be a constant weight that bore down like transparent baggage I carried with each step. The loneliness was always there, and with my parents deciding their ultimate happiness was with one another, aside from the loved up couple I was currently encroaching on, it was just me. Not even a sibling, a meddling aunt, uncle or distant cousin to share the grief of unexpectedly losing my entire world.

Ironically, as a child having my own family was all I ever wanted and I dreamed of walking down the aisle with eyes only for the man of my dreams. The white picket fence and happily ever after the goal as I threw one of my dad’s white shirts over my head and practised my bridal waltz. The only thing I needed was my prince charming and for a little while, I thought I had found him.

Only now, six months after Arna found me on her doorstep with a fractured wrist to match my equally broken heart, did I realise how sorely mistaken I was.

When I arrived in her lobby, a broken shell of a person, begging the confused doorman not to call the police – Arna made me promise that I wouldn't go back.

Begged me.

And after agreeing, I didn’t and still hadn’t.

I never would. It had taken me a while, but I knew my self-worth and it did not include putting up with abhorrent disrespect.

I chose me. And I would continue to choose me each and every day.

Despite the infinite number of unanswered calls, messages and even emails, I refused to speak to him. I was now on my fourth new phone number as just when I thought I was in the clear, I would receive a new text regardless of the Apprehended Violence Order Arna and Andy forced me to put in place.

Some were elaborate love declarations with tired apologies, others more sinister, often followed with an apology a few hours later – adhering to the cyclical nature of abuse I’d become accustomed. A reflection of his demons more than my own, but not okay regardless.

He would then begin contacting me on any form of social media he could find, however, he still had not been able to physically find me and that was why I was doing as well as I was. Even if I was a little jealous of the undeniable love my landlords shared.

I smiled to myself remembering Arna calling me on that Sunday morning, almost two years ago, because she was going to be interviewing some hot shot sport star she'd never even heard about. She’d asked me what sport he played which even to this day, still made me smile. If I hadn’t been in such a cluster of chaos lately, I would have fan-girled at the fact my roommate led the football team that I'd followed with a passion since the day I was born. If either of us had known that day she called, in a year's time she would be engaged to that very same man, who captained arguably the greatest team in the nation, we wouldn’t have believed it.

Given he spent much of his time avoiding copious fans and entitled strangers, he learnt quickly that his house would need to be a place he found solace and that meant tight security. A fortuitous blessing, for me also, as while I was certain Lucas would know where I was, he couldn’t get to me.

“Morning,” Arna drawled from the kitchen and I matched her greeting on a yawn. Sleep evaded me most nights and it was months since I slept through without waking from a nightmare that evoked a visceral, overwhelming, full body terror which left me sweaty and shaking whilst simultaneously freezing. Most of the time I really was doing better, but there were moments, when I was alone and in the dark recesses of the night, where the sadness consumed me.

But, today was a new day and having Suzie validate me with positive affirmations about my growth last week encouraged me to reflect on how far I'd come.

I was going to call the Centre and fingers and toes crossed, get my old job back.

“It's criminal you look that good this early,” her long blonde hair effortlessly luscious and bouncing in her wake like she didn’t just roll out of bed. She walked towards the coffee machine and placed her hand on the side feeling for warmth.

“You beat me to it this morning,” she said, ignoring my comment. “I was going to make you your disgusting cup of green healthy sludge,” Arna gagged exaggeratedly before continuing, “and a coffee before you woke.” She was whistling as she moved around the kitchen and for a small moment, the gratitude I felt towards her was overwhelming and the tears were close, but I was getting better at keeping them buried.

“Seriously, how do you look like that already? The sun has barely risen, your competency is giving me a bellyache,” I grumbled.

“I wanted to stay in bed but your roommate was grabby this morning,” she said, wiggling her fingers at me as if she wasn’t referring to her own fiancé.

“Can you at least wait until I finish my coffee before you give me a blow by blow?” I shot her a seedy look, my intended pun landing as expected.

“That was good,” she laughed. Arna loved nothing more than someone who could cleverly banter through language and a morning play on words always went down well. “As was how Andy said goodbye this morning. Twice.” She threw two fingers up over her shoulder in emphasis.

“Ewwww,” I giggled. “How are you going to survive two nights without him, surely you will die of loneliness.” I was only half joking. Her and Andy had been practically inseparable since they first met and his travelling for football, or her for work, was the only thing that kept them apart.

“Urgh,” she wailed exaggeratedly, “I know. Why they can't conduct the meeting via Zoom is beyond me.”

“They literally fly you interstate, cover your accomodation, meals and alcohol for two days and you work for approximately three minutes. You're living the life, love.”

“The food is pretty good,” she agreed.

“What time is your flight?”

“I’m taking a late one tonight, but before that we're going out. You and me. You’ve been holed up in this apartment for far too long and it’s time to let loose.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and moved to the fridge.

“Out where?” I asked, as I internally pondered how I felt about going out to a place with loud music, alcohol and people. So many people.

“Anywhere. I want us to have some fun before I get on my flight.”

Taking a deep breath I resignedly asked the question I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, “Where exactly are we going?”

Her eyes widened before she was squealing, “Yesssssssss,” while enveloping me in a full body hug.

“Can’t breathe,” I choked.

“Ahhhhhh,” she screamed into my hair. “We're going to have so much fun. We’re going to dance, have a drink and chillllllll.” Her excitement was a little contagious and I begrudgingly felt my lips twitch. Maybe this was exactly what I needed to celebrate all the little wins I was having with the bouncing blonde currently all over me.

“So, I know this is going to make you moister than a slice of cake in the middle of a trifle, we're going to Mr. Terrifying’s club.” A cheeky grin split her face, matching her bouncing from side to side.

“Please don't ever compare me to dessert compost,” I retorted with a grin, before comprehending our destination for tonight. Suddenly I was much more interested in our plans, especially if it meant I could potentially get a little glimpse of the man in question. “Oh, Mr. Terrifyingly Sexy’s place. Is he going to be there?” I asked, unsure if I wanted the answer to be yes or no. Arns’ assessment of him being a man of few words seemed legitimate given he hadn’t said a single word to me but nonetheless he was a tall glass of what I wanted to drink.

“Probably, let me ask Andy.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t want him to know I think his friend is hot. That’s humiliating. He wouldn't even remember me anyway or he might just think I was someone who broke in given how hysterical our first interactions were.” I remembered forcefully punching him in the stomach and shook my head.

“You mean when you tried to fight him then ran back to your room like an 11 year old?” She did her best to suppress her laugh to no avail and I giggled also. It really was going to go down in my top three most embarrassing moments, I was certain.

“I better go and start getting ready because I obviously have a lot to recover from after our introduction. I also haven’t undertaken any sort of maintenance in quite a while,” I lifted the leg of my pants as evidence of my self-neglect. “I’ll start with my toenails because no one needs to see these claws.”

Arna looked at my feet, then shrieked before grabbing her phone.

“! When was the last time you showed them any love? They’re going to need gloves and a chainsaw.” Her look of horror would have been hilarious if my nails truly weren’t so horrendous.

“Well I –”

“Consider it done,” she interrupted, “I’m booking us in now with my local because I refuse to be seen in public with those.” She didn’t look up when she spoke desperately trying to secure an appointment for my Sasquatch feet.

Meeting her gaze, I mustered all the enthusiasm I could manage. “Okay, fine. Let’s take these hangnails out into the world. I should probably also wash my hair,” I pointed to my incredibly neat ponytail, “because this slick hair,” I paused for dramatic effect, “no product.”

“Ewww,” she sneered, her mouth falling open in mock horror, “for everyone’s benefit, please go and bathe yourself in anti-bacterial.”

A laugh bellowed out of me and it felt good. For the first time in a long time there was a little excitement fluttering within at the prospect of seeing someone I found attractive. Even if he was terrifying, potentially unable to speak and would need to be on guard in case I attempted a core strength test again.