mercoledì 18:37
The amount of times she's called into work so far is ridiculous. She probably actually, physically goes to work twice a week. But it doesn't really matter anyways, she does the work at home.
At this point, she regrets ever getting a job for Juventus. English tutor her fucking ass.
In the end, it didn't matter if she did—it would always end in the same way. She's reverted back to her old miserable state, worthlessness and trying not to cry during moments when she relives good memories.
In the end, she's just her.
She's sitting on the couch this time having dragged her ass out if bed three hours ago. She ate a bag of potato chips, and now she's drinking white wine from the bottle while watching Fresh Off the Boat.
"Ugh," she groans when she takes a swig. It burns, but she likes it.
This was the ordinary life of Charlene Hrnjkaš before Paulo, post shitty ex-boyfriend John. Not really an alcoholic, eats from time to time, gets out of bed at three in the afternoon, spends an hour watching some dumb show on on her sister's Netflix.
It's no different this time around—she's probably drunk, crying while looking mindlessly at the white ceiling—but Paulo won't stop calling her.
She hadn't had the heart to block his number—what reason did she have to? But it hurt to see his face pop up on her screen every time he called and she always let it ring out the past twenty-three times. She doesn't want to think about him, she just wants everything to pass. She accepts the fact that she was maybe in love with him, but she doesn't believe he was in love with her for all the right reasons.
The twenty-fourth time he calls her, she's heavily intoxicated. She's tired of hearing the damn phone vibrate, so she quickly answers it and ends it not even half a second later.
"Fuck you," she mumbles, rolling to her side on the couch and starts to cry. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I thought you were going to be good for me."
Well he was, for a short while. That was all the unicorns and rainbows before the storm came and scooped her off the ground, rattling everything she ever had. She wants to think it's for the good. You know—it really wasn't meant to be at all. Maybe I was just ahead of myself, or he got way too into it.
After all, he does deserve something who can make him happy without doing anything.
Charlene's happiness? Nonexistent.
Not even the knock at her front door can make her happy. She's drunk, her eyes are red and swollen from crying, and her chest physically hurts from all the emotional pain, but she still finds the motivation to walk over and yank the door open to find Paulo on the other end.
She holds herself up by grabbing into the doorframe, leaning on it as looking at him with a scum look. "You again."
It's so obvious that she's drunk, she's staggering from simply standing up against the wall. "I—we need to talk. Please?"
"Fine," she huffs out a little too loud for the neighbors to hear. "You go first."
He sighs. The one time he actually get to talk with her, she's drunk as hell. "Look, I don't know what Anto even told you, but at least give me a sign. I can't go around with you avoiding me for something I don't know I did."
"Really?" The Croat laughed, crossing her arms. "That's so fucking funny. You know what Anto said? She said you were only dating me because you pitied me for being like—" she gestured toward herself, "this. And the more I think about it, the more that I believe it—"
"You know you shouldn't believe any of the shit she says, I mean—" He stepped closer to her. "It's Anto, my ex-girlfriend, and you wanna believe her? You do know she's still pissed off because I broke up with her for you."
"Yeah, yeah, everyone gets mad, Paulo. I'm still mad at all the boys I've loved before for treating me like gold and then treating me like shit."
"Since when does that have to do with—"
"You don't get it! You think that because you like me, that I'll suddenly be cured of this feeling in my body, but it doesn't work like that! This love thing, it doesn't work for me. I do all of this shit for other people, and then I wake up and I'm empty. I have nothing. Love is losing game, Paulo. And I know you'll disagree with me because you've never felt empty in a room full of people. Everyone loves you, your family, your siblings love you, your friends love you—it must be real nice to be Paulo fucking Dybala, huh?"
"You're drunk."
"No, fuck you, I just love wine!"
He puts his hands on her shoulders, and they make direct eye contact with each other—the first in almost a week. "What is the matter with you?"
"Well, I'm fucked up, what can I tell you?"
"Can you just—" He pauses. He's raising his voice too high. "Stop yelling? I don't want to make a scene."
"Oh, so you're so worried about making a scene, but you don't look even a bit bothered by everything I've said."
Paulo straightens up, and she whacks his hands off of her. He's just confused right now. He's not really sure what to do now, but he can feel his heart drop every time she speaks. You just never expected it to be this bad for her.
You think that since they started dating, Charlene suddenly feels like she's on top of world, but that's very far from the truth, so far from what Paulo believed all this time. He thought she was merely happy because he loved her, and the feeling of being loved was enough to cure one's depression, but it was much more complex than that. It's a never ending cycle that just sit inside of you and grows like a bird—Charlene can have the biggest smile, hold his hand, and skip around Turin like a fairy and still feel empty all at the same time. It's normal for her.
But for Paulo, he's still trying to wrap his around and interpret everything she's saying. "Look, I know you. I know so damn well, tell me you don't believe any of this. Tell me that this is just a small fight, and things can get back to normal."
He pleads. It's like he's about to lose her, like it's the end of the world....well, his world.
"You think you know me, but you don't even know half of me. You don't know how lowly I think of myself, and compared to you, you don't know how unworthy I am to you. I am this crazy, depressed bitch with no social life—it makes you pity me."
"That's not true—"
"Then what is it? Huh?" She crossed her arms and stepped up to him. God, she was literally on the verge of tears. "What made you pull a move on Charlene Hrnjkaš the stupid English tutor from Croatia. Was it the way I looked? Was it a desperate act to get away from your bitch of an ex-girlfriend? Or was it the moment I wanted to jump and end it all?"
He opens his mouth and closes it soon after. No words.
He knows it's true. He only ever acted upon his feelings that night on the bridge. He remembers when he stood next to her, shoulder to shoulder, the conversation they had, the realization of her intentions, and taking her back home.
In the end, he's incredibly grateful he and Anto argued over the phone that night. Otherwise, Charlene may not be here right now.
But pulling that card out and using it against him, Paulo felt like he had been exposed of something he was doing unknowingly. Now he questions whether he really did have feelings for her.
"I fucking thought so," she spat, and he sees a single tear roll down her cheek. "It always happens to me. Love is just losing game for me. I don't think I'm worth being loved. I don't think I'm worth being your girlfriend if you love me for all the wrong reasons."
Paulo's left standing there, speechless. He feels the tears wanting to spill from his eyes, the scream wanting to be let loose from his throat, and then he just wants to hug her and tell her it's alright in this world with no silver linings and no mercy.
He's lost in his own thoughts. Spaced out and confused, he can't even process everything she's said to him, and it's no attributed to language barrier.
"What now?" Paulo keeps his head low, eyes focused on his shoes when the first tear slips out.
"I think you should leave."
But it's her that leaves.
A shut of the front door and hearing click of the lock, Paulo inhales sharply, his nose becomes stuffed, and they just won't stop coming. He rests his head on the wall and just lets it all out.
It really did hurt when she left him this time.