Bonjour ma petite Amants!
That’s French people, just so you know. (Trust me I googled 😉 ) Fair warning to you Lovers, I have just popped a fairly powerful night time cold and flu tablet so I must apologise if the end of this post becomes a little slurry 😉
So how are we all? It’s pretty safe to assume your weekends are going a touch better than mine! Ever since Thursday I’ve been holed up in bed (alone sadly) with the cold from hell. I tried calling in a few favours, because let’s face it, nothing gets rid of a head ache quicker than a good bang; but alas, no-one took a fancy to the sexy phlegm. So, if you can believe it Lovers, it’s been almost an entire month since my last… tryst. And that was my obligatory birthday romp so it really doesn’t count! Luckily I have scheduled in some sexy time with Rolph of all people on Tuesday. I will of course fill you in on the details if anything… exciting happens, if you know what I mean (wink wink.) But until then it’s back to the past and back into the demise of Rick and Claire’s tumultuous love life. We left off with me driving away from him after he acted like a total ass. That about sums it up I think.
Rick called. And then he called again. And after that a few more times. I couldn’t deal with him. I had only just arrived home from his house and already there were three missed calls from him. Resolutely planning to at least try and get a good nights sleep before work, I put my phone on silent. The next morning I had thirty two missed calls.
Fuck a duck!
After my shower I listened to a few of the voice messages. He started with the sobbing. Tearful pleas of forgiveness, before serious promises of a new future and a new him. And then of course came the rage. He ranted and railed, shouting down the phone, threatening to hurt himself if I didn’t call him, then announcing he was going to the casino to drown his sorrows. Silent tears ran down my face as I listened to the messages. How did I get myself to this place? I loved him, god I loved him so much, but he was just so messed up. What was I supposed to do? What would Oprah do? I didn’t have much time to think about it as my phone began to buzz once again. With a sigh I answered, greeted by a subdued hello on the other end. I knew he hadn’t slept all night.
“Come meet me.” He begged “ We’ll go to the movies and have waffles and ice cream, just like you’re always asking. It will be a real date and everything. Please, let me take you out.”
I couldn’t believe it. After all he had done, after all the insults and hurt he had thrown at me, he thought he could fix it with ice cream? Too little too late! I quickly, (but with some difficulty) quashed my craving for my favourite chocolate almond ice cream and calmly informed him that unlike him I still had a job and had to go be at the office in ten minutes.
I knew the insult stung but it was all I could do not to scream abuse at him down the phone. But he begged, he pleaded and he cried until I finally agreed to meet him for five minutes before work. We met at the deli around the corner from my house. I figured if I was going to meet him I may as well get a good stash of lollies while I was there. I got into his car as he stared out the windscreen. He didn’t say a word.
“Well?” I asked, impatient and knowing how late I was for work already.
“Don’t rush me!” he snapped
“I have to be at work!” I hissed back at him, all my pent up anger simmering just below the surface.
“Don’t you think I know that? Jesus you can be such a bitch when you want to be!”
“Right , that’s it,” I said as I started to get out of the car. He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me back in but the venomous look I shot him stopped him in his tracks.
He looked crestfallen and my heart broke just a little to see him looking so pitiful.
“My Grandma died last night.” He said softly
“I’m sorry.” I said flatly. I knew it might have been a little insensitive but I just couldn’t summon up any sympathy for him. I knew they weren’t close and he had never once mentioned her in all the time we dated. Plus I was so mentally exhausted that all my emotions were completely out of synch.
“That’s all you have to say?” he asked, incredulous “ My Grandma died last night and all you can say is you’re sorry? Where were you last night? I needed my girlfriend to comfort me! You didn’t answer my calls or reply to any of my texts! Don’t you realize how selfish you are?”
I didn’t hear the rest of what he had to say as the slam of the car door cut him off mid rant. How dare he? How dare he accuse me of being the bad guy here when he was the one in the wrong? If he hadn’t been such a douche I would have been there with open arms last night, instead of crying myself to sleep over his sorry ass. I wept as I gripped the steering wheel, trying to stay focused on the road. How was I ever going to survive a day at work? I contemplated a sick day, but I knew that wasn’t an option. My boss was the doctor certificate nazi and there was no way I was dragging myself to the Doctor in this state. I took a moment in the parking lot to compose myself and frantically tore open a packet of skittles. Rick rang again and I stupidly answered it. He was in tears as usual but this time so was I, and girl tears trump boy tears any day of the week. I told him it was over and I wouldn’t put up with being blamed anymore.
I heard his breath hitch as he absorbed what I was saying to him but I had to ignore it. I had to shut off all my feelings for the next eight hours or my cranky-pants boss would fire me without a second thought. I rushed out a goodbye to Rick and hung up before he could reply. I had to sprint to the security gate in front of my office to make it inside before they closed it for the day.
After dumping my things at my desk and jamming on my headset I logged into the computer one minute early. That annoyed the hell out of me. That was an extra minute I could have used mopping up my tears, fixing my hair, trying to form some semblance of composure and shoving in exactly 112 skittles. Preferably the red ones. Instead I was using it stuck at a desk, forced to tape my smile on one whole minute earlier. I had better be getting paid over-time, I thought to myself darkly. I took my first call of the day and all things considered I thought it went rather well. I managed to say hello and my name before having to put the poor woman on hold.
For thirteen minutes.
Small victories right? That’s what people always say when your going through a tough time. Appreciate the little things, don’t expect it to get better right away, celebrate the little steps and all that bullcrap. But it’s hard to celebrate anything when you feel your whole world has collapsed around you, so I figured I would do what rhymed with celebrate, and so I overate. On my lunch-break I raided the vending machine and stuffed my desk drawer to the brim. One hour later it was empty and I was experiencing the sugar low from hell. I sobbed through each call, barely making sense and confusing each and every customer.
When four o’clock finally came it was all I could do not to run from the office. I raced to my car, hoping I could keep the tears at bay until I reached it’s safe warm space. I was still about ten metres away when I fell apart. The pain hit me like a sledgehammer. Hard and fast, with bone crushing force, all centred right on my chest. I gasped and fell to the ground, hoping desperately nobody could see my pathetic figure crouched in the car-park. Rocking back and forth I let the tears come, cascading down my cheeks until they pooled at my feet. I knew I couldn’t stay where I was, the humiliation of being found hiding behind someone’s car would be just too much to handle on top of everything else. Standing and wiping my tearstained face, I put one foot in front of the other until I was finally at my car. I looked back at the little puddle I’d left and smiled to myself as it looked like someone had had a wank over my co-workers super sexy front tyre. But the smile only lasted a nano-second. As soon as the door was shut I was free to sob as loud and as long as I liked.
Or so I thought.
As I inhaled to let out another pitiful wail my phone blipped a reminder at me. Shit! I had booked an appointment at the accountant. I groaned, knowing that I had to go or I wouldn’t get my precious tax return. And if I didn’t get that, then I wouldn’t be able to get that delicious dress I had had my eye on for weeks. The dress that Rick would have loved. I braced myself as another wave hit. I rolled with it, letting the pain wash over and through me, trying to absorb the impact.
I gripped the steering wheel and slowly eased the car out of the carpark. By the time I reached the accountants office I had fixed my face into a relaxed yet tired expression. It wasn’t great but it would have to do; I’d never seen any accountants worth hitting on there anyways. As I stepped out of the car with my paperwork, the face that I had worked so hard on fell apart at the seams. Standing in front of the accountants, was Rick. He looked nervous and was fidgeting. He must have been dying for a cigarette but the bunch of flowers he was holding prevented him from rolling one. My heart jumped up into my throat. Why was he here? Or better yet, how did he know I would be here? After a moment he caught sight of me and hurried over to my car. He anxiously pushed the flowers at me, a look of hope on his tear-stained face. I was shocked. He had never bought me flowers when we were dating, in fact, I had never received flowers in my entire life.
“I’m so sorry.” He said mournfully. I had never seen him look so crestfallen, so utterly devastated. It actually gave me a twinge of satisfaction, to know that he was just as upset as I was. That was short lived however, as I knew I had to stay strong and reject him. He wasn’t right for me, my head knew that, now I just had to convince my stupid heart the same thing, not to mention those treacherous old loins of mine.
I took the flowers from Rick and inhaled. They smelled beautiful.
“How did you know I would be here?” I asked
“You told me last week.” He said
“And you remembered?” I asked, surprised.
“Of course.” He replied “Why wouldn’t I?”
My mind raced with possible answers to give him ‘Because you were too high on weed to remember’, ‘Because you never listen to me anymore’, ‘Because you just don’t care.’ But now I wasn’t sure what too think. He had utterly floored me with his memory. Maybe I had been wrong about everything. Here was a guy who genuinely seemed to care about me, who cared enough to remember some stupid appointment and bring me flowers. I could feel my resolve faltering and I squeezed my eyes shut to try and build my defenses backup.
Rick, as if sensing how close he was to winning me over, put his hand on my face.
“Go to your appointment.” He said softly “And when you’re finished I’ll be waiting. Then we’ll talk, ok?”
I nodded mutely, not sure I could trust myself to speak. Who was this new Rick? He was caring, kind and attentive, with not a trace of the angrier, scarier Rick I had seen that morning. I walked into the accountants and sat down to do my tax. God knows what I claimed that year, I just nodded along to everything the lady asked. She must have thought I’d lost the plot, because she rushed through it so quickly she only charged me half of what she was supposed to.
After a quick goodbye I stumbled back into the sunlight, still feeling dazed by this turn of events. Rick was waiting, just as he had promised. He opened his car door for me and I slid in, not sure what to expect. But all he did was drive me a couple of hundred metres down the road to the nearby shopping centre car-park. Were we going shopping? Turns out no, we weren’t, Rick just wanted somewhere ‘quiet’ to talk. And so, as I clutched my precious flowers close, Rick poured his heart out to me, begging for me to take him back.
It was all so much to take in, the heady scent of the flowers, Rick in such close proximity, an enormous tax return, what else could I do but give him one more chance? And so I made the horrible decision of giving him a one-week trial. If we could get through just one week, seven measly little days, without a big argument or any tears, then we would officially be a couple again. Sounds simple yes?
Quite the opposite actually.
Mon dieu! Whatever happens next? Tune in next time Lovers 😉
Best Bonking song: 99 Luftballons
Best Used: When you want to change the mood with something foreign and exotic but have no idea where to find a good song. This way you can have a good romp, bump along to a good tune you already know, and pretend she’s singing something really kinky instead of an anti war protest.