HeartBreaker | Book 1

City Streets

                  
Chapter Five

City Streets

It's a week later and I'm still thinking about her.

No matter what I do, I can't seem to get her out of my mind; hopefully time has got my back on this one.

I lay on my sofa and think. It's a Friday night and Winston and I are eating dinner while watching cartoons. My favourite pass time, but for some reason, I'm not enjoying it as much as I usually do.

I keep zoning in and out; it's been an exhausting few days.

I decide to turn off the T.V. at 9:30pm and lay on my bed beside my window overlooking the city.

A sense of calmness and bliss washes over me as I watch the people and cars below scatter in every direction, Friday is one of the more interesting days in Melbourne city.

Though these people are strangers, they feel like a family to me. We all live in this great big city, living our own lives in it and making it what it is.

I may not be as important to them as they are to me, but it's a comforting thought knowing that there is always someone.

And with that, it's hard to feel lonely in one of the most populated cities in the world.

Across the street on the opposite building is a cinema. I've always wanted to go, but I figure it is a bit unusual to go alone.

I watch every night as people of different ages and backgrounds walk in and out of the cinema with smiles plastered on the faces and the sound of laughter echoes down the street; it feels good to be a witness to something like that.

I watch the street for about an hour before I start to feel a little drowsy. I lay on my bed and fall asleep almost instantaneously.

Saturday morning I'm woken by a terrible knocking on the door. I groan and look at my phone which reads 8:49AM.

I know exactly who this is, my stomach twinges at the thought of her.

She knocks on the door again, this time louder and more impatiently.

I unlock the door, "why good morning Janine," I say rubbing my eyes, "do come in," I lay on the sofa.

She walks in and closes the door behind her with a look of mild shock and frustration etched on her face.

She is dressed in her usual pantsuit with a coloured blouse, her shiny, dark hair framing her face. I mean, who has got the time to put that much effort into their appearance?

She somehow looks younger than last time.

"Chris, it's minus three degrees outside why haven't you got a shirt on?"

I don't answer or even move, I just stare at her blankly wondering who she thinks she is questioning my nudity.

"Anyway," she begins, taking a seat on the bar stool by the counter, "I'm here on an urgent matter, which I'm sure you're aware of. Chris you've had many opportunities to attend this program which is designed to help you, and for two weeks, you're a no-show."

Why can't she understand that I want no part of this? I don't wanna meet new people or talk about my problems or be in a room full of people whose lives are as messed up as mine, what good will that do?

"Chris, you need to attend," she says sternly.

There is a silence, I sense that she is trying to control her emotions. I sit up and look at her trying to figure her out. Why does she care so much about my wellbeing? Well of course it's her job, but are they all this way?

"Of course, I can't force you to take advantage of this opportunity of a lifetime, but there is always a consequence to every decision made; you more than anyone, should know that."

This hits home.

"This is your last and final warning,"

"it's my first and only warning," my smart mouth couldn't resist.

She heaves a heavy sigh, "there is the final workshop of the program tomorrow afternoon, it would be extremely disappointing if you wish to not attend." She places the program booklet on my counter table and walks out of my apartment, gently closing the door behind her.

This woman is a stranger to me as I am to her, why does she care where I end up if my own mother didn't?

Damn. I'll go if it means keeping Janine butthurt out of here.

I don't know why I'm so bitter towards her, she seems to be a lovely woman, but I guess I'll always see kindness and loveliness as a weakness.

I guess social workers will always irk me, not because of their overenthusiastic nature to help, (well maybe a little bit) but also because they weren't there when I really needed help; when my days were numbered and happiness was a myth.