She's With the Band

Walk Away

A/N: This part is dedicated to the amazingly talented CreativeWritingsCo for her beautiful story cover! Thanks for inspiring me to get back to writing and for creating a story cover that I'm absolutely in love with :)

And if you haven't checked out her story, "Combat Boots & Ballerina Slippers", be sure to do so now! 

Breathe in, breathe out.

"Why do you think you're suitable for this job?"

Valerie could see her reflection in the glasses of the interviewer. He was a middle-aged man with greying hair and glasses that ate the features of his face. All that was left were his pouty lips, dragged down into a grimace. He seemed dissatisfied with her silence thus far, which made Valerie nervous.

Inhale. "I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?" Exhale. Her nerves seemed to be anxiously waiting to quench her hopes of ever finding a job in Dublin. She knew the perfect answer thanks to years' experience managing HR at the Fairfax, yet she couldn't summon the words to her lips.

The interviewer pursed his lips into a thin line, as if repressing a slur of critical words. He took off his glasses and looked at Valerie square in the eye.

"Why should we hire you, Ms. Boulus?" He spoke the words slower; enunciating every syllable.

"I have a lot to offer...?" Valerie gulped and tried to maintain this train of thought.

"Is that a question or an affirmation?"

"No, I... I believe I can utilize my previous experience in terms of management, communication, and teamwork." Mentally, Valerie rolled her eyes at her own words. What a cliché!

The interviewer jotted down a quick note with a neutral expression. If he had already reached a decision, he hid it well. For a moment, Valerie didn't know whether to remain hopeful or tick off yet another job listing off her list. She glanced at the clock above his head, its arms had moved ever so slightly since the beginning of this interview. In her experience, a brief interview is never a good sign.

"Thank you for time, Ms. Boulus. We'll be in touch." The interviewer rose from his seat and extended his hand towards Valerie. She shook it firmly before grabbing her purse to leave.

On her way out, she caught a brief glimpse of this morning's The Irish Times. "Confirmed: The Draft to sue ex-manager for embezzlement!" was written in bold letters across the front-page, followed by a picture of The Draft performing in one of their concerts. A small feeling of satisfaction crept on her as she remembered the conversation she had with the drummer, Gale Powell.

It has been a month since that conversation, and the accident. Nothing had changed, save for Valerie's weekly interviews with prospective employers. Dana remained in the hospital, under the scrutiny of beeping monitors, without much improvement. The family chose to remain hopeful, despite all the sympathetic looks they received from the nurses, and never left Dana's bedside.

Valerie's life seemed so alien to her now; her days took on an entirely different routine. Her mornings became a constant race against the clock to get to scheduled interviews. In the evenings, she took over Dana's bedside from her parents. She spent most of her time at the hospital; her own suitcase was laid next to Dana's by the door.

She stood at the nearest bus stop, waiting for the next bus to take her to the hospital. When she opened her wallet to check for change, she found the remnants of lint, a few old receipts, and a just a little over two Euros in cash. She sighed in exasperation and cursed under her breath.

For the past month, Valerie put herself on a tight budget out of fear of spending all her money; she thought that she'd be able to secure a job before her fears were confirmed. Now that this day had come to prove itself, she felt defeated. Her savings were parched, yet she couldn't bring herself to borrow from anyone. Not her parents nor her bank—her pride would never allow it. So, she did what she could only think of to do at the moment: walk to the hospital in silence and hope inspiration strikes her from above.

*****

The walk to the hospital took a long 20 minutes in the icy December weather. By the time Valerie reached the reception, her feet were numb from the cold and her nose was running.

"Your name, please," the nurse pushed the visitor's log towards her. Valerie reached for the pen before she stopped short; her hands floating in the air. She read the name once, twice, and three times; her eyes still in disbelief. Xavier Kelly, Room 240.

He was here; his signature burning a hole in the sheet. Valerie could have sworn that his perfume was still lingering in the hallways.

"Excuse me," Valerie struggled to compose her voice, her jaw was quivering with restrained anger, "when did he arrive?"

"About half an hour ago," the nurse replied nonchalantly as she pointed at the check-in time.

Valerie only gave her a slight nod, still in shock. She took the pen with weak hands and scribbled a quick unintelligible signature. What she actually wanted to know was, When did he arrive in Dublin?.

A million thoughts crossed her mind but they were all shattered at the sound of his voice.

"Valerie? Is that you?" Valerie spun around quickly, the speed fazing her already-cloudy mind. Xavier was standing in the middle of the hallway with a bouquet of roses in hand.

"What are you doing here, Xavier?" She spoke carefully, her hands outstretched in front of her as if creating an invisible shield, protecting herself from further emotional abuse.

"Val, I want to say sorry," Xavier began his speech, one that Valerie suspected he had perfected over the years. She memorized his sequence of thoughts: first, he says he's sorry; then, he wants her to come home; finally, they pretend like nothing happened. Their pretence relationship had stringed Valerie along for three long years. At last, its veil had lifted and uncovered the truth: the shallow depth of his attachment.

"Look, don't bother with your speech! It's the same damn words every time."

"Valerie, just hear me out! She means nothing to me, I swear, I'm sorry." Xavier tried with a pleading voice, its sweetness sickening to Valerie's ears.

"And it took you a month to realize that?" Valerie's voice rose a few octaves, people turned their heads towards their argument. "What the hell were you doing all this time? Fucking her?!"

"Now you're just being presumptuous!" Xavier snapped back, his ego obviously scratched. He felt the scrutiny of the people in the halls; they were witnesses to his public humiliation. His eyes turned hard with anger, already resenting the very woman he came to win back. Valerie's distance from him served her well, she knew exactly which buttons to push.

"Val, just come home with me," Xavier advanced towards her, his hands locking her elbow in a tight hold, "I ... love you." Valerie struggled against the strength of his hold and grunted in protest.

What was once the soft sound of raw passion now turned into a heartless cacophony. Even as he declared his love, all Valerie heard was I cheated on you. She yanked his arm away from her and released herself from his iron grip. From her periphery, she could see the figure of a man walking towards them.

"Is there a problem here, sir?" the man's footsteps carried him to the centre of the battleground and then stopped. From a distance, Valerie could make out the vague outline of Gale Powell—a person she hadn't expected to see again.

"This is a private matter," Xavier held up a hand in annoyance, "Valerie?"

"I can't believe you right now!" Valerie made a rough, humourless sound resembling a laugh. She felt the adrenaline shoot through her, already triggering a fight response in her fists.

"I can't believe you cheated on me when, let me tell you, you weren't exactly a walk in the park, either." She balled her fists tightly together, her nails sinking into her skin, as she walked towards Xavier. "I can't believe you have the audacity to come here, with your cheap-ass flowers," Valerie snatches the bouquet from his hands and shoved them in his face, "to the place where my sister is facing a life or death situation, and tell me that you love me.

"Xavier, there aren't many things in this world that I'm certain of, but I'm certain that I could never be with you, again. Now, leave!"