Page 85 of Hate You to Love You

‘Don’t kid yourself, Elliot. You are always going to have one foot out the door, and that’s okay. You’re an amazing publicist. You deserve whatever opportunities come your way.’

‘Why won’t you listen to me?’

I look away. ‘Because I know you. You’re always searching for something greater.’

‘Really?’ There’s a sharpness in Elliot’s voice. ‘Well, if you know me, I know you. And you are doing exactly what you always do.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘You run away when things get hard. Romantic books and movies are just a way to bury yourself in other people’s feelings so you can hide from your own.’

The tears break free, streaming down my face as I walk away. I don’t turn around. I can’t. Because a part of me knows that what Elliot says is true.

chapter forty-one

then

Dad’s been gone for six months. I think I can count how many times I’ve left the house in that time on one hand. My routine is the same. I wake up and look around my childhood bedroom and everything about it seems wrong. How is that these old stickers on the wall and books I’ve kept since I was a kid are still here, but Dad isn’t?

Once I’m able to drag myself out of bed, I’m at the dining table most of the day. I tell myself that it’s so I can work from home, writing articles to occupy my mind. But all I can do is stare at Dad’s chair. The chair he would never sit in again.

Mum has been trying her best to be there for me. It’s easiest to be around her when she’s trying to be practical, like with the funeral arrangements. What I can’t stand is when she tries to get me to talk about Dad and open up about how I feel.

She eventually gets the hint and stops pushing me. Luckily, there are visits from Sal, Jones and Laney to distract me. Sal takes the cheering-up approach, attempting to be more goofy than usual to get me to lighten up. Jones tries to maintain a sense of normalcy, with only occasional attempts to get me to talk about it. When Laney visits me at home, she does her best to distract me. Cartoons are her go-to method to soothe me. We spend our nights watching Rugrats and Danny Phantom episodes. But the diversion from my feelings only lasts so long.

When I’m alone is when I cry. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to cry this much. Even when I feel that I’m all out of tears, I cry some more. I fear that this is all I’ll ever be – broken.

Lots of people have reached out in the months since the funeral. Friends from my days at The Terrace. Old coworkers from Dusk Studios. Addie sent flowers and a card from Sparked. But there was one message that stuck out. A message from Elliot that came through a few days after I started sharing the news with people.

Elliot Simpson 8.15pm: I heard about your dad. I’m so sorry, Carlos. My heart is broken for you. I’m here for you when you’re ready to talk. If you want to. x

It was like getting a message from a ghost. I hadn’t heard from Elliot since he left. The image of him standing there as we said goodbye at The Vic is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of him. I’m still angry, but mostly I’m just exhausted. So I leave the message unanswered.

I can barely eat. My mind can’t concentrate when I try to read books. The movies in my dad’s DVD collection are completely off limits.

My life is a kind of purgatory I can’t escape. Because I’ve discovered that you can go after your dreams, lead with your heart and tell people you love them, and things still end. There are no happily ever afters in real life.

chapter forty-two

now

I slip back into life in Sydney quietly, without seeing anyone. Even when I return to Addie’s apartment, I spend most of my free time alone in my room, trying to finish the article. There’s still so much excitement about Claudia’s new book, and the speech she gave in Edinburgh, and I try to find solace in the fact that the article is bound to be a hit.

It’s a Monday afternoon when I finish the initial draft of the article, and I decide to put it away for a day so I can edit it with fresh eyes. Which leaves me with the dilemma of whether or not I want to join Jones, Sal, Laney and Patrick for Monday drinks at The Henson.

I open my phone and scroll to our last messages. The group chat has mostly gone silent, except for a few exchanges about the wedding. It occurs to me that because I’ve been away, I barely know any of the details of Laney’s wedding this Saturday, so despite things being awkward between us, I decide to go to drinks.

The gate to the courtyard grates against the wall as I slam it open and jog up the stairs. I skirt around a family eating ice cream by the exit and push past a group out for a birthday celebration to find the gang sitting in our usual corner.

‘Hey, guys,’ I say awkwardly.

They all stare at me blankly.

‘We didn’t realise you were back,’ Jones says, sitting unusually still.

‘I got back on Saturday,’ I tell him.

‘A heads-up would have been nice. We didn’t even know how long you were meant to be gone for,’ Sal adds.