Lonely and Tired

Love Intervention

I felt a sharp jab somewhere in the region of my ribs and groaned in protest. It was repeated again hard enough to have me arching my body away in protest and flinging the covers from over my head and squinting and glaring at the perpetrator. Cathy stared down at me her face a study of disapproval.

"Get up."

"No."

"I said, get up."

"And I said nuh uh. Nope. Never gonna happen. No." I pulled the covers back over my head wrinkling my nose as I caught a whiff of myself. Ripe.

The covers were wrenched violently from me. "I said, get the fuck up!"

I curled into a ball pressing my forehead to my unicorn pyjama clad knees. "No," I insisted into the flannel.

"Get out of the bed Steph. Enough is enough. What are you? A woman or a wuss?"

I blinked up at Cathy who stared down at me with narrowed eyes her hands firmly planted on her hips and I prepared to argue. It was all too hard so instead I just rolled over onto my other side and curled up. "A wuss. I'm definitely a wuss."

I'd been in hibernation for a couple of days. There was no reason for me to get out of bed and I had no desire to. That first night after Brian had crushed my heart in the pursuit of not offending his fans I'd retreated to my bed. I was curled up in bed feeling sorry for myself when Cathy had appeared at my bedside with a wine box of Moscato. It was the closest thing she'd been able to come up with to the pure and righteous goon of my youth, cask Fruity Lexia. She'd done herself proud, particularly as she'd eschewed wine glasses in favour of Harper's plastic Dora cups. I'd laughed and sobbed my way through a Will Ferrell, Ben Stiller and Vince Vaughan movie marathon. It was a full blown romantic crisis and British Sci-Fi didn't have the ridiculous insanity required to get me through. That night I'd dreamed of Brian racing across a multi lane freeway dodging wrenches as I chased him with a T.V. antenna to the tune of Frankie Goes to Hollywood. The stupid ducks were still watching us.

"Get out of bed," Cathy growled and began pulling on my ankle. Could she not see I was busy wallowing in my heartbreak? Jeez, I had a pretty tight schedule going on. I still had a day or two of lying in bed before I began my campaign of stalking his social media and typing elaborate messages before losing my nerve and deleting them. After that I had a busy couple of days lined up of drink dialing him and driving past his house late at night as I listened to Pearl Jam's 'Black' on repeat. It was a hectic time for me.

"Come on!" Cathy grabbed the hem of my pyjama pants and pulled them down as I squirmed at clutched at my knickers to stop her getting a full porn view of my nether regions.

"Why?" I whined as I realised with a sinking feeling that this was not a battle I was going to win.

"Because you are becoming a pathetic cliché and Harper wants to go to the beach."

"Urgh." I rolled out of bed because damn her, she brought out the big guns. I loved Harper, the little psycho, and I was pretty sure that when it came time for me to enact the revenge phase of my break-up breakdown Harper would be able to come up with some pretty kickass ideas for how to punish Brian for breaking my heart. I'd help Harper out but I had planned on spending the day ignoring Brian's messages. Although come to think of it those had stopped sometime the day before after I'd messaged him telling him to make his fans happy by announcing our break-up.

"At last," Cathy breathed with relief as she pressed her clenched fists together and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Get in the shower, you stink. Be quick about it Val will be here in fifteen."