My first night without Emily I spent a good deal of time on my computer. I mostly browsed Digg, and discovered things about my name. For example, did you know that Alec is in the top ten list for names most likely to end up in jail? The others are Ernest, Garland, Ivan, Kareem, Luke, Malcolm, Preston, Tyrell and Walter.
I think I would be pissed off too if my name was Tyrell.
I also found out that my name is a derivation of Alexander and means ‘Defender of Humanity.’ I should have been happy or amused by these facts.
Nothing held my attention. It was like I was suddenly seeing the world in black and white, after a lifetime of having a full colour, HD existence. It just wasn’t the same. The world was dull, and out of focus.
I kept looking at the mobile phone on my desk, or the facebook window I had minimised, there were so many ways to contact her. I wished she would call me. Just tell me she was sorry, and never felt anything for him.
I wondered if that would make me feel good, or if things could ever just go back to the way they had been before.
I wished we had never gone to the stupid party.
I knocked on Kim’s door. For the first time she saw me cry. She was really great about it though, didn’t laugh or tease me about it. Just handed me a box of tissues and let me rest her head on her shoulder.
“Listen.” She said, after listening to me ramble and cry for around half an hour. “Sometimes… Sometimes things just aren’t meant to work out.”
I was crying again.
I had had no experience with break ups before Emily. Or relationships. But suddenly the song ‘Sexed Up’ by Robbie Williams made a whole lot of sense to me. I desperately tried to think of all the bad things about her, trying to edit out the good, so I could be happy.
On Christmas eve I could hear a song by Joni Mitchell coming from Emily’s room.
It was a sad song. “I wish I had a river, I could skate away on.” I was lying on my floor. I lacked the energy to move, speak and I could barely draw breath. It just kept hurting.
I felt around for the wind up radio that had fallen to the ground. I flicked it on. No help.
Christmas is meant to be this happy, merry time. A time of oneness. I suppose, though, that part of growing up is pretending, for the sake of the children who still don’t know. It’s not even about Santa, every kid over the age of five knows about that. It’s when the truth about people, the arguments and the weakness, can no longer be hid from the child. That’s when the innocence dies. That’s when Christmas dies.
Christmas came, and I pretended to be happy. I got a hastily scribbled card from my Dad wishing me a ‘Merry Christmas.’ There was no return address.
I gave Kim a lava lamp for her room, a joke book about fishing for Bob and some make up thing for Rose. I had asked Kim’s advice on that!
In an effort to save money, the school had asked students to come in and move boxes, chairs and such like for the upcoming new years day fete.
Our health teacher paired us up on the idea that we already knew each other. We didn’t say anything to each other. It had already been said.
I sweated as I dragged boxes that only seemed to get heavier. Each one had to be transported from outside the school and up a flight of stairs. The outside air was hot and humid.
It should have only been an hour’s work, but the smart people just hadn’t shown up. So the jobs were left to the freshman that had made the mistake of telling there parents. At two in the afternoon it was looking like we were not going to get out anytime soon.
