Nine Lives

Calories

Mint-choc chip or Chocolate? - B

Not even a question. Mint-choc chip. I sent back my reply and hugged my phone close to my chest. I hadn't had ice cream in such a long time...the idea of it terrifying me and exciting me all at once.

I watched the door of the shop swing open and close as customers came and went, coins dropping from hands, torches searching in handbags and facemarks hanging off ears. I waited for Blake to appear, but he was taking his sweet time.

Sweet...ice cream. As I shut my eyes and imagined the chocolaty swirls of milky heaven and minty freshness of pastel green cream, I remembered the last time I tasted such luxury.

It was a few months after Jackson had moved in with Pat, a date we had planned outside of the house. We went to the beach, I drove us in the early hours of the morning to watch the sunrise and cuddle up on the salty shore. He came running over to our spot on the damp sand, two dripping cones in his jumbo hands. Both Vanilla. I hated vanilla.

I took the cone anyway, pecking him on the cheek as he huddled close next to me. I licked the escaping tears cascading down the curve of the cone, rounding the soft scoop into a slick snowball. "Do you not like it?"

Jackson had realised I only took an interest in the cone every few minutes, the tasteless cream not doing wonders for my senses. "Vanilla isn't my favourite flavour, babe."

With this, Jacksons tone shifted. His relaxed arm wrapped over my shoulder stiffened, his jaw clenched and he dug his heels into the deep sand. It was like a flicker of the TV, a glitch in reality that never really happened, as a millisecond later, he was back to normal...hand gripping my shoulder and his sharp chin lifted up to the rising sun, breathing in the salted air. I stared at him in confusion, nudging him as I asked the question with my eyes. What the hell was that all about?

"Less calories." Jackson spat.

I did a double take at that moment. In replace of my sweet boyfriend was a vicious viper, poison flaring from his fangs. The words contained hurtful intentions, his face unmoving from it's shine in the midmorning sun.

"Excuse me..." stunned, I turned my body to face his, ice cream cone long forgotten.

"Baby, since i've been around so often, we've been eating out a lot. Almost every weekend we get a takeaway, and most nights you have seconds...its starting to show." No emotional reaction whatsoever, a statement, not an assumption.

"You like Saturday night takeaways...you always suggest it." I remember holding back hot, wet tears.

Jackson sighed then, shrugging his shoulders as he lifted my chin up to meet his eyes. "I go to the gym six times a week, I follow a strict protein diet and care what I put in my body every other day. You need to look after your body baby, or I'm obviously going to think different of you."

Obviously.

I remember the smug grin on his face, a look of meaning. He had meant every single fucking word. If I didn't lose the weight, and stopped enjoying food, he would leave...I took it as a threat. So, as we sat there on our sunrise shore, my ice cream falling victim to the pulling sand that sucked it up and covered it in crystals, toxifying it so I no longer had the urge to lick the dripping vanilla...not that I was still hungry then anyway. Jackson kissed me lightly on the lips, continuing to hold my chin in a grip that was impossible to pull away from. I was angry for sure, and confused...but more so numb. Hurt was everywhere, yet his love put a pathetic bandage over every open wound.

"Amelia!"

I flew into the window as a hand touched the top of my shoulder, icy fingers sending shivers down my spine. There he was, holding two pints of ice cream - Mint-choc chip and Chocolate.