nods her agreement and they begin a full blown conversation on kids and how many he wants and what they’ll look like and who they’ll be more like.
Meanwhile… panic attack.
My entire body clenches and tenses painfully as I stare at a spot on the wall and zone out. I don’t know what it is about kids and babies that freaks me out so much. I just don’t want that in my future. Not yet anyway. I’m twenty-four for crying out loud!
It’s not until fingers waggle in front of my eyes that I snap out of my panic and take a deep, relaxing breath.
“Are you okay?” Silas looks concerned as he scans my face with warm eyes. “I said your name five times.”
“Must still be a bit woozy after the accident.” It isn’t a total lie as I don’t feel totally all there. I don’t want to admit that I was mentally freaking out over the fact that my mum and boyfriend were just planning any kids I probably won’t have.
“Do you want to lie down?”
I nod and accept his help. I don’t need it but I appreciate it all the same. Silas is helping to keep me grounded, all the while reminding me that life is what I want it to be. Life is what I’ve chosen to be.
If only I could get those dark blue eyes out of my head. They brim with tears and stab at my soul, tormenting me beyond my limits.
Isaac
“I think I’m going to stay away for a while,” I tell my dad and try to ignore the fact his face just fell. “I might take a break, go travelling when all of this is over.”
“You mean the divorce?”
I nod. “I just need to… find something.”
“Someone?”
“I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“I’m always here.” My dad places his hand on my shoulder. “I think a break from this town will be good for you. Make sure you say goodbye to your mother.” He removes his hand and runs it through his white hair. His nerves are suddenly apparent. “Isaac… promise me you’ll come back.”
I smile at my old man and pull him in for a hug which he reciprocates. “I’m not that guy anymore. Of course I’ll come back.”
He doesn’t try to hide his relief. I hate how much of a bastard I used to be. This is what life is about - family. Not meaningless sex and binge drinking.
“I’ll leave tonight or in the morning. I haven’t decided yet. I have to get back to work, as I’m sure you understand.”
My dad nods and moves past me to enter the room. “I do.” He halts in the doorway and looks at me over his shoulder. “I am so sorry this is ending for you the way it is. I wish… I wish things could be different.”
So do I.
So do I…
The train ride home is torture, nothing but a radio full of solemn songs to remind me of what I’m leaving behind and my own thoughts for company. I’d put my personal music on my phone but I can’t seem to catch a decent signal. Why are solemn songs suddenly an ‘in’ thing? They’re okay sometimes but not always. I can’t stand to hear them right now. They resonate too deeply with my mood and only bring me down further.
I’m becoming such a depressing person.
My flat is empty as always. There’s nobody here. There’s barely even any furniture here.
The fact I haven’t tried to make this square place a home is evident. As much as I’m enjoying Boston, it’s nowhere near as good as Cambridge.
Nostalgia hits me when I stare around the empty space and I find myself wandering into my room and pulling a wooden box from under my bed. It contains photos and other memorabilia from long ago. I haven’t looked through it all since the day I finally realised Eloise wasn’t coming home. I don’t particularly want to look through it now.
I do though, just to further sink the knife into my masochistic heart.
My fingers tightly pinch the edge of the wooden lid and push it away. Dust tumbles in and around the box, spilling onto the first thing in sight. Our wedding photo.
We both looked so young in comparison to how we do now. We looked so happy.
I
Meanwhile… panic attack.
My entire body clenches and tenses painfully as I stare at a spot on the wall and zone out. I don’t know what it is about kids and babies that freaks me out so much. I just don’t want that in my future. Not yet anyway. I’m twenty-four for crying out loud!
It’s not until fingers waggle in front of my eyes that I snap out of my panic and take a deep, relaxing breath.
“Are you okay?” Silas looks concerned as he scans my face with warm eyes. “I said your name five times.”
“Must still be a bit woozy after the accident.” It isn’t a total lie as I don’t feel totally all there. I don’t want to admit that I was mentally freaking out over the fact that my mum and boyfriend were just planning any kids I probably won’t have.
“Do you want to lie down?”
I nod and accept his help. I don’t need it but I appreciate it all the same. Silas is helping to keep me grounded, all the while reminding me that life is what I want it to be. Life is what I’ve chosen to be.
If only I could get those dark blue eyes out of my head. They brim with tears and stab at my soul, tormenting me beyond my limits.
Isaac
“I think I’m going to stay away for a while,” I tell my dad and try to ignore the fact his face just fell. “I might take a break, go travelling when all of this is over.”
“You mean the divorce?”
I nod. “I just need to… find something.”
“Someone?”
“I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“I’m always here.” My dad places his hand on my shoulder. “I think a break from this town will be good for you. Make sure you say goodbye to your mother.” He removes his hand and runs it through his white hair. His nerves are suddenly apparent. “Isaac… promise me you’ll come back.”
I smile at my old man and pull him in for a hug which he reciprocates. “I’m not that guy anymore. Of course I’ll come back.”
He doesn’t try to hide his relief. I hate how much of a bastard I used to be. This is what life is about - family. Not meaningless sex and binge drinking.
“I’ll leave tonight or in the morning. I haven’t decided yet. I have to get back to work, as I’m sure you understand.”
My dad nods and moves past me to enter the room. “I do.” He halts in the doorway and looks at me over his shoulder. “I am so sorry this is ending for you the way it is. I wish… I wish things could be different.”
So do I.
So do I…
The train ride home is torture, nothing but a radio full of solemn songs to remind me of what I’m leaving behind and my own thoughts for company. I’d put my personal music on my phone but I can’t seem to catch a decent signal. Why are solemn songs suddenly an ‘in’ thing? They’re okay sometimes but not always. I can’t stand to hear them right now. They resonate too deeply with my mood and only bring me down further.
I’m becoming such a depressing person.
My flat is empty as always. There’s nobody here. There’s barely even any furniture here.
The fact I haven’t tried to make this square place a home is evident. As much as I’m enjoying Boston, it’s nowhere near as good as Cambridge.
Nostalgia hits me when I stare around the empty space and I find myself wandering into my room and pulling a wooden box from under my bed. It contains photos and other memorabilia from long ago. I haven’t looked through it all since the day I finally realised Eloise wasn’t coming home. I don’t particularly want to look through it now.
I do though, just to further sink the knife into my masochistic heart.
My fingers tightly pinch the edge of the wooden lid and push it away. Dust tumbles in and around the box, spilling onto the first thing in sight. Our wedding photo.
We both looked so young in comparison to how we do now. We looked so happy.
I
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