watched by a puzzled Caz, opening it I retrieve the note from Jake’s hold-all, replacing the bag outside before shutting the door and pulling the chain back across. Silently I push the crumpled note across the table to her. She briefly skims over it “have you spoken to him” she finally speaks, I shake my head “I think I left him an answer phone message” I mumble.
“You think?” she questions her eyebrow rising skeptically; I wave my hand towards the two empty bottles of red next to the sink. “Ah” she nods knowingly, “so what are you going to do?”
I shrug deflated, “what can I do?” I retort, knowing there is nothing she can say “I guess I’ll leave him” I can hear my voice wavering, but I manage to hold it together.
“Oh, Kate, I’m so sorry” she whispers. Before I can respond the door catches on the chain followed by Jake muttering “shit”, Caz’s wide eyes mirror my own expression.
“Do you want me to…” she offers quietly, nodding towards the door “yes” I breathe.
She stands immediately and strides out, closing the kitchen door behind her. Straining to hear I can only catch the occasional word uttered in hushed tones, evidently Caz is telling him in no uncertain terms, to go to hell.
She returns shortly slipping back into her seat opposite me “I sent him away, I hope that’s alright?” she asks searching my face for approval, “yes, thank you, I don’t know what I could say to him right now” the tears silently streaming down my face. In a flash she is beside me encircling her arms around me protectively, “it’s going to be OK you know” she soothes. All I can do is nod as the flood gates of my grief open up once again.
The next two weeks go by in a blur of numbness, anger and inconsolable sadness. I manage to hold it together at work, throwing myself into mindless tasks is a welcome break from thinking about my shattered life. My boss, Mick, has been hovering around me constantly, asking too many times if I’m sure I’m OK, chipping away and threatening to break through my protective wall. I can’t blame him for being concerned, his wife left him last year and he was a wreck for at least 6months. I think he is baffled by the relentless hard work façade I’m sporting, if only he could see me every night at home when I can’t hold it in any longer.
Caz wanted me to stay with her, but I assured her I would be fine at home, I didn’t want to say, but coming back to her and Phil’s happy home on a daily basis was likely to make the pain all that much greater, and anyway, I prefer to cry alone.
Most nights she comes over for an hour or so, bringing casseroles and badgering me to eat while she tidies up here and there. I make out like its unnecessary but in reality she is my rock, my lifeline.
My parents have also been down at the weekend, fussing about and dragging me out for fresh air, complaining of how pale and gaunt I’ve become. Mum is beside herself with worry, ringing me daily and then ringing Caz to confirm what I have told her is correct, if I amreallyOK and have I actually been eating. Dad was bitterly angry at first but is starting to thaw now, rolling his eyes at mums incessant badgering.
I still haven’t spoken to Jake. Phil came round on the Monday and apologetically collected more of his stuff from a list Jake had given him. I don’t know where he is staying and Caz has been insistent in not mentioning him, so I’m figuring he’s withher.
By the forth week I’m exhausted. Putting on a front at work, to Caz and everyone else all day, then crying or being plagued by insomnia all night is really taking its toll. I’ve lost a stone in weight despite Caz’s best efforts to tempt my diet back. I feel like a zombie just getting through every day on automatic pilot.
Jake has called a couple of times, leaving short unfeeling messages. I haven’t bothered returning his calls, what can we possibly say to each other? He did what he did, I’m heart broken, but there is no excuse and I cannot take him back, not to mention the fact that he has made no attempt to get me back, so I’m guessing now he has been