Rebel Heart [#1]

ONE - Back Home

"MÃE!" I yell for my mother, hoping she'll come and help me with the mess in my childhood bedroom. I wait for a couple of minutes but she never comes.

Sure, choose today of all days to ignore me, Joan.

"Where the fuck are my work papers?" I ask no one in particular while trying to organize this chaos of papers, books, and notebooks.

It's bittersweet to be back at my mom's house after so long. I had moved in with my now ex-boyfriend. We had been living together for a couple of years already when we reached a point of no return. The memory comes to me like it was yesterday.

"Shit, where did I leave my sneakers?" I mumble while looking underneath the bed. "Babe, did you see my black Adidas?" I yell in hopes that John knows where I left them.

I am the cleanest freak you will find, but I always forget where I leave my stuff.

"Fucking hell, I need to get my brain checked," I say to myself, sweeping my eyes under the bed one last time, holding my phone as a lantern to see properly.

Just as I am about to give up, I notice them in the opposite corner.

"Ah-ha!" I pick them up and stuff them inside my suitcase.

It appears that in my brain, clean does not equal organisation.

When I am finally done, I head to the living room, where I know John is waiting for me. I halt when I see him there, sitting on the couch with a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask, sitting right next to him on the couch.

"I can't do this anymore," he says without even diverting his gaze from the black canvas of the TV.

"What do you mean?"

I thought things were fine an hour ago when he was fucking me hard against the shower's wall.

"I can't keep up with this lifestyle of yours anymore, Mel. You're away for weeks in a row and I can't bear the distance anymore. You don't even need to work, so what's the point in being away for this long?"

"I need to work because I love what I do and it requires me to travel around. I am never away for more than two weeks at a time. Don't make me choose, John, please."

How could he ask me this? When we got to know each other, he already knew how much I loved this job, how much this meant to me, he also knew how hard this was going to be. Despite all of that, he was always supportive.

Not anymore it seems. So, what changed between then and now?

"Yeah, and you come home for two or three days before you leave again. You have to choose, either the job or me," He states coldly, avoiding my gaze.