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21
Sky
Twenty-two,homeless, and jobless—not what I planned when I stayed in Bristol with my childhood sweetheart. At least we never married or had kids although not through lack of trying on my part—my subtlety was brick-like on that topic for years. Then I gave up, deciding we'd be one of those cohabiting couples. Grant said marriage was "just a piece of paper."
My job? Gone. After school, I turned my back on the chance of university and worked for his family firm as the 'office manager'. This entails accounts, sales, admin, coffee maker, and occasional cleaner. I am an expert on finance contracts and a complete fail on life.
Naturally, my break-up with Grant and subsequent disappearance ends my employment. I'm sure I could fight back for unfair dismissal, but I haven't any desire to communicate with a single one of Grant's family.
I move in with Tara, into her spare room, where I fight with her plethora of cuddly toys and clothes for space. A bed and a roof over my head are a start in my move forward in life. With my office skills, I can take temporary contracts until I find a full-time job. If I'm brave, I'll switch towns too and get as far away as possible from the dickhead and his stupid family.
Social media exploded when Dylan reappeared, news of his holiday with the mystery girl speculated on everywhere. The palpitations caused every time I open the internet, expecting to see my picture, lessen each day. One week since I returned, and my name and face remain unknown. That's the way I want to keep things and another reason to steer clear of Dylan. My life is already upside down, with Dylan my life would spin out of control.
But still he haunts my dreams.
Following a morning registering at employment agencies, I meet Tara for coffee in our favourite cafe. She's seated in our regular spot, in a wooden booth on the vintage-look blue cushioned seats. The expensive fixtures add to the effect; I think the owners went for a Gatsby art deco theme. I’m pretty sure us customers pay for this fit-out through overpriced coffee.
Tara is immaculately dressed in her understated, natural way. Next to her, I always feel like a scarecrow—her sleek brown hair versus my unruly straw-blonde waves. Her expensive, coordinated blue skirt suit versus my cobbled together interview outfit of a short black skirt and white shirt. Tara offered something of hers for the interviews, but she’s several inches taller and I’ve too many curves to fit her extra small sized clothes.
On the stone table, next to her cup of mocha, is a glossy magazine. When I approach with my latte, she studies me, red-painted mouth quirking at the corner.
"What?" I ask her smirking face.
"You never discussed your holiday with me. How was the trip?"
I open a sachet of sugar and tip the contents into my drink. Then another. "Fine."
"Fine? Anything else? Meet anyone nice?"
The fake innocence to her voice raises a red flag so high the whole of Bristol could see. "In Cornwall? Not likely."
"Mmm." With delicate fingers, Tara flicks through the magazine, stops on a page and turns it to me. "Is that you?"
Perspiration that’s not from the summer warmth grows; the situation I’ve dreaded in front of me. I’m looking at a grainy photo of Dylan and me—several grainy photos. In the one where we’re kissing I'm hard to identify, but someone managed to zoom in to my face in on one of the other pictures. The photo is blurry, but not blurry enough to fool my best friend.
The beautiful cafe lurches. "Oh."
"Omigod!" shrieks Tara and I shush her. "What the hell? No way! This is you?"
At this point, I’m not sure if her incredulity or the fact she knows pisses me off most.
"Keep your voice down. Yes. I was stupid. It’s over." I glance furtively around but nobody pays any attention, the lunching city dwellers focused on sandwiches and phones.
She leans across the table, long hair almost dipping into her coffee. "Did you…you know?"
Why reply when my bright pink face does for me?
"Sky! Omigod… you slept with Dylan freaking Morgan? How was he? Good, I’ll bet. Spill."
I hold a hand up. "Stop there. I’m not talking about Dylan."
"Why? Did he pay you to keep quiet?" she whispers.
"Tara!" I snap "Do you honestly think I’d do something like that?"
Tara frowns. "Okay. Sorry, I didn't mean... What happened?"
"It’s a long story. The whole situation is over and done with."
