Eleven.
It took me a moment to comprehend what just happened. My stomach knotted, and I felt unbelievably sick.
"What?" Was all I finally managed to get out.
"I'm leaving. I'm going to the city for a while."
"W-w-why?" I stuttered.
"Ah, so you do care."
"No, I don't. Just go." I snapped back.
I felt tears run down my cheeks again. They felt hot, almost burning, against my frozen skin and the cold rain. You came closer again, brushed the strand of dripping hair from my face, and kissed me slowly, yet with an unforgettable sense of defiance and agony.
You couldn't just leave. Despite what I said, I knew deep inside I still cared. Every night I watched the moon, as it shone down on the cherry tree, like some perverse beacon of that smidgen of hope I had left in you, and in us. That smidgen of hope, that you'd abandon the blonde girl for me, that you'd be the one to save me from the fate and the life I've made for myself. That smidgen of hope that you'd be the one to show me love, to show me trust, to show me freedom, and give me the courage to take back what is rightfully mine- my life.
I don't know how long we were standing out there for, your arms wrapped around me tight, my face buried in your sweatshirt. You didn't want to go, and I didn't want you to leave either, but both of us were too proud to admit it. And I was with Benn now. It was too late.
"Hey, Bec?" You said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"What's with the blue chunk in your hair?"
I felt you play with the rather broad strand of my hair, dyed bright blue.
"I dunno. I was going to get purple, but it stands out less in my hair than the blue."
"Yeah but, why is it there at all?"
"Why not? What's wrong with it?"
I felt my body tense. I couldn't tell you why the blue was there. Not without telling you what happened. I bit my lip.
"There's nothing wrong with it. It's cute," you smiled.
"I was just wondering whether there's anything more to it."
"No, not really." I shrugged.
You smiled and kissed the top of my head.
"I have to go."
I nodded, and swallowed hard; convincing myself I wouldn't cry again. Not that it would've mattered, it was still pouring.
I watched you go, slowly, reluctantly. As your car turned the corner, towards the road leading out of town, I started walking home. I didn't bother drying off, and just walked straight to the bathroom. I locked the door- not that it was necessary at all, as usual, no one was home; and turned the hot water on.
I spent the next twenty minutes sitting in the shower, hoping the hot water would eventually thaw my frozen limbs. I noticed I hadn't even felt the cold when you were there. I noticed I'd noticed nothing when you were there. And that nothing had mattered.
I turned the water off, realising that all of that didn't matter. You were leaving, maybe even gone already. I was with Benn. Everything would be fine, it would just take some time. Wrapped in a towel, I shoved my clothes in the dryer before going to my room to find clean ones.
I stopped for coffee on the way to Benn's. As I was waiting for my order, I couldn't help but overhear a heated conversation between two girls sitting at the corner table. The blonde seemed sort of cranky. And looked awfully familiar...
"And there he was, in the middle of the fucking park, kissing this girl!"
"No!" The blonde's friend exclaimed, quite obviously feigning shock and interest.
The blonde didn't notice. Go figure. She didn't really strike me as the brightest bulb in the shop.
"Yes! She wasn't even pretty. And she had this weird like, blue bit in her hair."
Uh oh. This wasn't good. I wondered how many girls with blue bits in their hair kissed a guy in the park in the pouring rain today...
"So what did you do?"
"Nothing, I kept driving. It was raining, I didn't want to get wet." She adjusted her hair.
I suddenly realised why the blonde was so familiar- she was your on and off girlfriend, the one who kissed you at the club. And in her opinion, quite clearly, you were having an on phase, meaning she'd just been cheated on. I moved my hair over my right shoulder, in an attempt to conceal the blue. She hadn't noticed me yet, and I planned to keep it that way. The guy behind the counter passed me my coffee, and I quickly made my way out of the shop, succeeding in remaining unnoticed by the blonde.
It didn't stop raining that night, so Benn and I stayed in and decided to snuggle up on the couch and watch movies, instead of going out and doing something. We ordered Chinese, and had it delivered. I was sitting cross legged on the couch, opposite Benn who was failing miserably at eating with the chop sticks that came with the food. Eventually, grinning just wasn't enough anymore, so I laughed.
"I really don't see why you don't let me just get a bloody fork."
"Because, clearly, this is far more entertaining."
"Yes, for you. But I'm hungry."
"Nawww." I chuckled.
Benn, intently focusing on his dumpling, slowly moved it up towards his mouth. But as he went to put it in, the chop sticks failed him again and the dumpling fell back into the box. He grimaced. I was still hugely amused, but started to feel sorry for him, so I picked up my chop sticks, got the dumpling, and fed it to him.
"How do you do it Bec, how do you do it?" he asked, chewing.
"Talent, what else?" I grinned.
"Yeah? You know what else you're really good at?"
He leaned over and kissed me, before returning to his food. After another failed attempt of picking up a piece of chicken, I moved over to sit next to him.
"Want me to teach you?"
"Yes please..."
A half hour later, Benn was dealing well with the chop sticks, and having some success at eating his, by now almost cold, food. I smiled, and kissed his cheek.
"When did you learn how to use these?" he asked.
"My mum taught me, when I was like, eight or nine."
We'd been on a holiday, in Vietnam. Dad had to work, as usual, so it was just the two of us. Mum had deemed it a necessary courtesy to eat with chop sticks, plus it'd been kind of hard to find a fork, in general. So on our first or second afternoon, we sat down, and promised we wouldn't eat any of the food unless we were doing it with chop sticks. It took us a while, but eventually we'd learnt. And after two weeks of practise, I'd mastered the art entirely. I missed Mum. Dad used to never be around, but then he was around almost constantly for about two years. I didn't understand why at the time, and appreciated it for a bit. But by the end of the two years, when he started working away from home more again, I found myself not missing him at all.
Yet I'd kill to spend just another day with Mum. I'd kill to have a chance to apologise, and tell her I loved her. And it killed me that I couldn't.
