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My Love

Was it just an argument?

By Abs SimmPublished 5 years ago 6 min read
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The walk to work had always been long, but today I found it even longer. One big fight with the boy I love. With the mess of thoughts jumbled in my head, I still can't seem to say a bad thing about him. I've spent about 20 minutes walking so far, trying to come up with everything wrong with him, just to keep my head on straight. To justify why I yelled so much that he stormed out, the argument replaying in my head, the words I shouted, and the door slamming with him on the other side. He was never like that. A quiet boy who would always calmly deal with my irrational mood swings. This was so different to how our bickering would usually go.

Emotionally, life is so frustrating. I can't seem to figure out what I want. I'll say, "I need a break" and I know I need to. I need to get my head on straight, but he keeps making it spin. My head is made fuzzy with his name. It’s being whispered like a small breeze against my face on this cold winter morning. I can’t even remember what started the fight. It must have been so pointless.

My blue-eyed boy would make me swoon, as he has done every day for the past three years. Everything was perfect with him. There's the little fights that everyone has, the squabbles, the little things that wind me up. But then, there's the big things. The things he doesn't do. The way he never listens. But then there is his smell, his smiles, and his eyes, they make me drool. I love him. It's so difficult. I need to be alone, but I need to be with him. It's so confusing. It's been one day of not talking to him and I think I'm going crazy. I guess that’s what the TV shows warn you about. Love makes you mad in so many ways. It clouds your mind and you don’t realise until you try to escape. Then you realise, the real world is so much worse, and the clouding is there to soften the blow that is reality.

He didn't come home last night. I yelled at him saying that he needs to focus on me more and less on his hobbies. It sounds selfish, but we never spend time together anymore. I’m at my wits end and I need to spend more time with him. We’re in a relationship because we enjoy each other’s company, and that’s not happening anymore. I told him that I hate him for becoming a different man. I didn’t hate him.

My walk to work got longer and longer the more I think of him. My feet slipping on the pavement probably didn’t help the time. The more that I think, I realise that he still hasn't called me back. Why didn't he come home last night? It was just one small row. It didn't have to be more than that, so why was he making it this big thing? And I was right anyway. He proved that by accepting what I said, but he still tried to argue his case. As a lawyer, I like a good argument with evidence, but I hate him outsmarting me.

I couldn't face work right now. I shouldn’t have, but I redirected my route back home, even though I was nearly there. I was close enough that I could see the neon light signaling my work, but I turned around anyway to repeat the walk I've spent half an hour doing. Half an hour thinking of him. Walking back doesn't make it easier, my mind still hazy with the thought of him.

The morning frost hugged the short blades of grass on each side of the road. The path had lost its grip and I was finding it difficult to walk on with these heels. I guess I took more than half an hour to get back because the sun was already bouncing off the ice glued to the car windscreens.

When I got into the house, I took off my uniform and clambered into our bed. I had made it this morning and tidied the whole house for when he came back. I wanted the love of my life to come back to a warm home, so he knew I had made the effort until I could see him and apologise.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and checked it. Still nothing. No messages, no calls and no idea of where we are at in this relationship. I put it on the charger in case anything comes up from him.

I bet he's at the pub. I can almost guarantee that's where he is, throwing those stupid darts and taking another sip of that God-awful beer. I'm not going to bow down and be the first to call him. When he comes home, I’ll be so relieved, but he is going to get an earful from me. I don't know why he hasn't called. I know he left me a message apologizing straight after the argument. There wasn’t a decent reply to send and I was so worked up that it wouldn’t have been a nice reply. I don’t want him to think this is it. It can't be.

My anger rises. I get myself more and more worked up, knowing he is there rather than here. He’s focusing on anything but our relationship, just like always. I'm fed up of fighting with him over this, but he never listens. I told him I needed to take a break because he needs to learn. I know he thinks my anger is because I'm a redhead, but it never clicks that it's him. He is the reason I get angry. Even though I’m mad, I want nothing more than for him to be home with me now. I want to cuddle up and watch an episode of our TV show together.

I sink onto his side of the bed. It still has his indentation and smells like him. I cup my mug of coffee with both hands. It’s still that little bit too hot. I blow on it, and as I do, a slight whistle comes from the purse of my lips. I get up and walk towards my phone that’s charging on the other side of the room to call him. I bow down. Before I get there, there is a knock at the door. I look to the side next to my phone and I see his keys. He must have left them in a fit of rage. He’s careless like that. A small smile creeps to the corners of my mouth. The frustration leaves my body with each step I take closer to the door. The click of the handle turning, gives me a rush of excitement that courses through my body.

I open the door to see a green, hi-vis vest. “Are you Jennifer?” My voice stops working and all I can do is nod my head. “We need to talk. Unfortunately, your boyfriend was in an accident last night. He didn't make it through. We’d like you to come and identify the body.”

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