There’s something comforting in being alone. When you’re alone, you can’t get hurt. And yet we just keep going back for more, keep setting ourselves up for more pain. Because the hope for something great overrides the fear of getting rejected. And I think that’s a wonderful thing, that we’re willing to risk heartbreak because there is a very slight chance that this person might be the right person, that this person might actually love you forever. But I also think it sucks because at that moment I felt so, so horrible.
I couldn’t get angry, and that’s what I needed to be. I needed to get angry in order to get over Nick. When I could see him for what he really was, then I would be able to get over him. I was angry at myself for not being honest with him. Part of me knew he was moody and selfish and didn’t deserve me, but just then all I wanted was for him to hold me. He’d told me he didn’t want to be with me, that he didn’t want to talk to me, but the only thing I wanted in the world right then was for him to put his arms round me. I knew it was completely illogical and I knew I shouldn’t want it, but I did.
I lied to Gran and told her I had a migraine so that I wouldn’t have to go into work at the magazine. I just wanted to lock myself away, but at the same time it was torture to be alone. I wanted to talk to somebody, to get out some of what was in my head before I drove myself insane, analysing it over and over again, wondering how things would have gone if I hadn’t been so stubborn and called him. But then the next second I was thinking, No, why should I have to do everything? Why should I give in to his sulky moods and act like everything’s great when it’s clearly not? Part of me hated Nick for doing this to me. Could he not have waited a few more days? He didn’t know I was working on a case, but he did know I was working at Electric magazine. I wondered how long I could get away with calling in sick.
I heard my door creak. I pulled myself up, thinking it would be Gran offering me more tea. I couldn’t stomach anything at the moment, not even tea, so I really didn’t want any. To my surprise, I saw Hannah standing there.
‘Jacki King,’ she said, barging into my room. I’d just dumped all my stuff inside my door last night, so she had to climb over everything to get in.
‘Yes?’ I said.
‘Get out of that bed.’
‘I’m never getting out of this bed,’ I said.
‘So you’re going to stay there forever?’
‘Yes. I’ve decided I’m going to die of a broken heart.’
‘You can’t die of a broken heart, it’s not possible.’
‘Johnny Cash did.’
‘He was seventy-one!’
‘So?’
‘And he and June were meant to be together.’
I ignored the last comment. Hannah was just being mean now.
‘When was the last time you ate?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘How come you didn’t go to work today?’
‘How did you know I didn’t go to the magazine?’
‘Dillon told me. He was worried about you.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, trying not to think about the fact that Dillon had said he was worried about me. ‘If I lie perfectly still and try not to move and try not to think, then I’m fine.’
‘Have you heard from him?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going to the magazine tomorrow?’
‘No.’
‘Jacki, are you honestly going to let this take over your entire life? You need to get up.’
Hannah pulled the covers off my bed. I was wearing fleece pyjamas, bed socks and clutching a hot-water bottle.
‘I’m cold,’ I said. I actually did still feel sick and cold from yesterday. Having someone break up with you was obviously as physically painful as it was emotional.
‘That’s because you haven’t moved in fifteen hours. Get up, we’re going shopping! Sophie needs a new lens for her telescope and I need a new bra.’
‘I don’t want to go shopping.’
‘You don’t have a choice.’
‘Aren’t you meant to be in school?’
‘It’s sports day,’ said Hannah. ‘Sophie and I do not do sports day. Come on, we’ll pick her up on the way there.’
Hannah opened the wardrobe and pulled out my denims and Janis Joplin T-shirt.
‘Put these on,’ she said.
Usually I love shopping. I adore looking at clothes and bags and shoes. I could do it for hours and not get bored. But today every step was a chore. I didn’t want to be outside, I wanted to go back to bed. It took all of my energy to simply not start crying in public. Every song they play in shopping centres is a love song. Every. Single. One. Hundreds of songs filled with lies and empty promises and fake feelings. If they played Michael Bublé again I was going to crack. Hannah and Sophie tried their best to cheer me up, and I really did try not to be so grumpy, for their sake.
‘What do you think?’ asked Sophie, holding up a purple dress.
‘I dunno,’ said Hannah. ‘It’s not really you.’
‘I like it,’ I said. ‘I bet it would look nice on.’
‘I’ll try it on,’ said Sophie. ‘If that’s OK?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ I said.
I followed Hannah and Sophie around Dundrum shopping centre, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Instead I was still analysing, still trying to figure out what Nick was thinking, but I couldn’t. I think that’s one of the major tragedies of life. It was funny how Kayla and Beth had been able to get inside my head, infiltrate my dreams, show me what had happened to them, and yet I didn’t know what my own living boyfriend… living ex-boyfriend… was thinking. You can never get inside somebody else’s head – you’ll never be able to find out what they are really thinking. Even when someone tells you, you don’t really know. And I think that’s what hurt the most. Not the rejection or the betrayal. It was the not knowing what was going through his head in that split second when he decided that what we had just wasn’t worth holding on to. That moment when he decided I was disposable.
I could hear Colin’s words ringing in my ears – ‘You need to cut that loose, Jacki, because he’s not treating you right.’
Hannah held up two different eye shadows.
‘Which one?’ she said.
I shrugged.
‘You should buy a dress,’ she said. ‘That’ll make you feel better. And you need something to wear to karaoke at Rage on Friday.’
‘Oh, I dunno, Han, I don’t think I’m up for karaoke.’
‘But you LOVE karaoke,’ she said.
I somehow managed to make it through to lunch and we sat up on the stools at the sushi counter. I watched the brightly coloured plastic cartons go by on the conveyor belt. Hannah and Sophie were discussing their purchases. After much persuasion from Hannah I’d bought something. Usually I’d be excited about finding such a nice dress in exactly the right size, but nothing could cheer me up today. I still wasn’t hungry either. I wasn’t even going to attempt to eat. If Hannah and Sophie were getting tired of my mood, they didn’t say anything. I guess you get a free pass when something like this happens. Because everyone knows what it’s like to be dumped. And if they don’t they’re lucky.
When I got home, I promised Hannah I wouldn’t get back into bed, so instead I decided to write some lyrics. It wasn’t very enjoyable though because I just ended up writing particularly angry stuff.
A disposable camera
In the back of your drawer;
Distant memories
That’s what I’m good for.
Something fun
But you’d rather forget;
Listen up, baby,
I’m not quite done yet.
Were you getting bored
With my modest demands?
I’m sorry I don’t like
Your favourite bands.
Might want to consider
Before you throw me away;
Chances are you’ll
Be back some day.
Eighteen red roses
Waiting by my door
But distant memories
That’s what you’re good for.