Sugar

Chapter 1

I stare at the vase on my kitchen table. It's empty just like my flat. I can't bear to look at the walls that hold the pictures of me and Jamie. The only safe place to look right now is this blue vase. I don't know how long ago the door closed, I don't know how long I've sat here, hearing the door close over and over again in my head. He's not coming back, I repeat to myself over and over.

My phone rings, startling me from my zombie state. I rush over to it as it sits on the kitchen counter, expecting to see Jamie's name. The bit of joy that sparked inside of me has gone, like someone's poured water over it. I debate answering it, not sure if my best friend's bubbly persona is what I want to be faced with right now. I shake my head. Of course I need my friend.

I lift the phone to my ear "Hello?"

"Howdy girl and happy Freakin' Friday!"

"Hi" I say. I don't even try to lighten my tone because I don't have the energy. My energy went into my tears and my begging when I pleaded Jamie to stay.

"Woah, what's up with you? Bad day at the office?"

I clear my throat in an attempt to get rid of the lump that's formed "I left the office at lunch" I inform her "Jamie decided he wanted to leave me today"

"HE WHAT?!" I immediately hold the phone away from my ear, flinching at the loud volume of her voice that connects harshly with my ears.

I don't want to repeat it. It was bad enough saying it for the first time out loud. "Yep, he left-" I check the digital clock on the kitchen counter "An hour ago."

I hadn't realised just how long I'd been sat staring at the vase. Knowing how much time has passed has made me realise that this isn't just a joke. Each minute that passes is a minute that this get's more real, more serious. I really thought he'd regret it within' half an hour. All I can think about is what he's doing now. Where has he gone? He said that he's gone to a friend's but I can't see any of them putting him up out of the blue.

The thought makes me question if this has just been out of the blue. Has he been planning this for a while and if so, why didn't I notice? Everything was fine. Sure, we don't see each other much lately because of our jobs but that's life. I have a job and hobbies just like him, I can't just abandon them for him...is that selfish of me?

"Hello? Are you there?" Megan snaps me into the now and I blink rapidly, taking myself from my daze.

"Sorry. What did you say?"

I can sense her rolling her eyes "I said hold tight, I'm picking some alcohol up and coming round ASAP"

I purse my lips "I'm not sure alcohol is what I need right now"

She snots down the phone "Yeah, you tell yourself that. Besides, if you don't drink it then I will"

I take a deep breath and nod, forgetting that she can't see or hear that response "I'll buzz you in when you're here"

The phone hangs up and I go back to sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the same vase. You have to face the pictures on the wall at some point, I tell myself. I keep setting it back, I keep saying 'in five minutes', mostly because I keep hoping that he'll buzz on the intercom soon telling me that he was stupid to walk out.

I keep replaying the argument in my head, the tears, the pleading, the stubbornness from him.

"I can't stay here Pen, I feel claustrophobic"

I panic, my eyes showing my worry. "Is it the flat? We can move, I don't mind!" I say, worried that he dislikes the flat that I was sold on a lot quicker than he was.

He shakes his head as he crams clothes into the hard suitcase that now lies on our bed. "It's not the flat, it's just everything."

Everything? How am I supposed to try and fix everything? It's a vague response and I need more than that to be able to work this out. I watch as more clothes get shoved into his suitcase in a messy manner, all of my ironing going to waste. Them clothes will be creased in an hour, I think to myself.

"Like what? Me? You? Your job?" I ask, scrambling for more information, for the tiniest insight into his brain. I want to hold him still and shout 'TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU'. I can't accept that this is just me and I won't until I hear him say it.

"It's not my job" He says, walking over to the built in wardrobes "You know I like my job". I thought as much. Jamie's job is one of the only things that he talks about. he's the big guy in the office, a digital designer who knows what he's doing. I'd sit and listen each night as he tells me about his projects and I'd smile as his eyes light up with joy. But if it's not his job, then it's more than likely me that's the problem, he's not going to blame himself.

I begin pacing up and down on our hard bedroom floor, stopping at the cream rectangular rug, it was our first purchase when we got the confirmation that this place was ours. I had seen it in the shop and couldn't resist, neither could Jamie. We were both so excited to have a place of our own, a place where we could really begin the rest of our lives together.

"Then it's me, what have I done?"

Jamie's patience wears thin at all my questions and he throws the clothes on hangers down onto the bed. He really is packing absolutely everything.

"What if it is you, huh? What if I just don't feel the same way about whatever we had anymore?"He asks, irritation clear in his voice. A piece of hair has strayed from the rest that are locked in place by hair gel.

I gulp. I hadn't prepared myself for that response. Every single word of it stung. 'Whatever we had'? The words made me feel cold. We had a life, a future, or so I thought.

"Then tell me what I've done and I'll try to work on it." I plead, desperate for some sort of solution to the hell that I'm currently falling Into. He snorts, shaking his head and it makes me shrink, it makes me feel so small, so helpless, so stupid.

He finally looks up at me, making eye contact "I don't want you to work on it. Stop trying to fix things Penny, stop try to perfect everything. All you try and do is make everything right and there's no point, I just don't feel how I used to."

My breathing stops, like I'm unable to breathe at all. I can feel a mental dagger going straight into my heart. That was what I needed to hear to leave him to pack up his things and leave. You can't change something that someone doesn't want to be changed. I had no comeback, I had no bargaining tool, no thought in my head whatsoever.

I dawdle into the kitchen-dining room where we'd spent our first few months here cooking together every night, laughing as much as we could, making memories. it's all empty now. I sit and stare at the vase, trying to block out all of the sounds of him rooting through draws, wardrobes and the zipping of his cases.

'Whatever we had', as he so delicately put it, has gone.