I just arrived at work, always in a rush. I gave the cafe guy a quick wave – he knows we’ll be there later as we do every Sunday. I open the shop and you walk in – in a rush too. It’s always like this on a Sunday. I run up to you and hug you – I can tell that you’re not okay. We both cry, life’s not fair. You tell me how things have changed, “How you’re empty, you’ve fought for the last six years, and you just can’t do it anymore. You’re not sure who you are.” But I know who you are. You’re the strongest girl I know. And you’ve been through more than any twenty-two year old should have been through. We cry some more, I can literally feel my heart breaking in two. I can’t stand to see you upset. And I know how hard you’ve wanted and worked for your life as it is today, but it just isn’t what you dreamed.
I tell you about my night last night and the guy I met in the club and now I’m too shy to talk to him. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to a guy. You tell me, “Just do it. What have you got to lose? He’s your dream guy.” You know me too well! We accept that this Sunday is a write off, thankfully it isn’t busy today, so we get to sit down and gossip for most of the day. We decide it’s time to go get chips and gravy from the cafe guy to make ourselves feel a little better (and he always gives us a lot – he too knows how important food is!).
Finally, six hours later work is finished and we decide to go back to yours for a Sunday sesh. It’s the first time I’m at your mum’s new house – I love your family. We sit out on your new balcony overlooking the river, watching the sunset, smoking shisha and chatting some more. We eat a ridiculous amount of junk food and go inside and watch a movie. I feel a little better knowing that you’re okay. You’re not, but knowing we could have some girl time makes me feel a little bit better, because that ALWAYS makes a difference. I never want to leave, but we both have work tomorrow and I live an hour away. I say my goodbyes to your family and head on my way.
I hear a noise. I open my eyes – the bus is arriving. I look around. Tourists chatting at the bus stop. Cold snow hitting my face. I glance around and I cannot see you in the crowd. I’m here in gloves, scarf and this thick, fluffy jacket with heavy eyes filling with tears and an empty, empty heart. While you’re there in the sunshine and 35° heat. I close my eyes again wishing it wasn’t my imagination. I’m reminded that I’m still here, and you’re there. I’m not sure I like it anymore, I need my best friend back.
You’re still fifteen thousand three hundred and sixty-eight kilometres from me.