SirianaSims

The skies are darkening as I walk home from the food stall, carrying what is – despite the time – technically my breakfast. Hot steam is wafting up from the flimsy plastic bags in my hand, warming my cold fingers.

I’m still not used to San Myshuno’s seasons, but Samara told me that it’s unusually cold for being this late in Spring. In a way, it feels like the city has decided to match my mood, as if the dark and dreary weather is being sympathetic to how I feel.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and a robotic voice jarringly interrupts a sad love ballad to flatly announce that dad is calling. I sigh and tap my headphones, he’ll just call again later if I don’t pick up now.

“Hey, honey!”

My father’s voice is warm and comforting like a blanket, and I can hear faint birdsong and the rustling of the trees in the backyard. I briefly wish I could just move back home and be a kid again and leave all the worries to my parents.

“Hi, dad. How are you guys? House still standing?”

“We’re good, Kieran and Liam are busy worrying about prom so it’s been unusually quiet. Oh, and speaking of standing, Grayson can stand by himself now. He can even take a few steps as long as he’s holding on to something.”

He sounds so proud, almost as if he was the one learning to walk.

“Aww, he’s getting so big! Next thing you know, you’ll all be chasing him around the house every time they visit.”

“I’ll make sure to have your mother send you some pictures of him when I get back inside. She’s busy in the kitchen, Griffin and Daria are coming over for dinner. But how are you? We barely hear from you these days.”

“Oh, you know, I’m really busy with work and hanging out with people and such. I’ve just been out shopping for dinner, and then I’m seeing a friend later.”

I hear him hesitate, like he can tell that I’m lying.

“Alright. That sounds good. We’ve been a little worried about you. And especially today…”

“I know, it was really rough in the beginning, but I swear I’m doing fine, I-”

My voice breaks and I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take a deep breath to get it under control.

“Oh, honey. Listen, sometimes relationships don’t work out, no matter how much you love each other. I can see where Paul was coming from, and your mother and I have been worried that you’d feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. So I want you to know that we’re really impressed that you’re staying true to yourself. It can be… very hard to do the right thing when you love someone, I know that. So I’m proud of you.”

“I just miss him so much, dad.”

“I know. But maybe you don’t really miss Paul. Maybe you just miss a version of him in your head that he failed to live up to. If Paul Romeo was really so perfect, he wouldn’t have made my daughter so sad.”

My father reminds me to take care of myself and I promise to call more often before I end the call and pick up the pace slightly just as the rain starts falling.

I manage to make it home before getting too wet, but it’s still a relief to step inside the warm apartment.

My laptop sits on the dining table, and I eye it warily as if the deluge of messages could somehow escape containment and drown me.

I unpack my food and try to ignore the state of my kitchen. I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now, so I just kick off my shoes and take my food to the couch as usual.

I text Marten and eat a few bites while I wait. He replies almost instantly and within minutes, he’s online. It’s becoming my favourite part of the day.

We play for a few hours, and I almost forget to be sad. Marten never mentions Paul, he just talks about normal things like what the other guys in his fraternity are up to, his studies, new games he’d like to play. Easy topics. He’s also good at carrying the conversation when I’m quiet, like tonight.

Marten probably doesn’t even know what day it is today, and somehow that makes it easier.

Eventually, though, he has to leave. He tends to go to bed early, even on weekends, and I promise him to get some sleep too. My barely touched food has congealed into a solid cube in the box and I leave it on the table and try to decide how to spend the rest of the night. As if I don’t already know.

Finally, I give in.

I open my laptop, ignoring the notifications about the thousands of unread messages. I thought the sudden influx of hate-mail was bad when my relationship with Paul was discovered, but it has been nothing compared to after the news of the breakup.

I know I shouldn’t, know I’m just picking at the wounds, but my fingers move on their own, out of habit, and pure muscle memory is making them type Paul’s name into the search bar. All the links are already purple, of course, there is nothing new here, but I still click the first one. It takes me to his Social Bunny profile. Paul was never that active on social media, and his latest post is several weeks old.

I know it by heart.

“In response to the recent speculation, I want to clarify that Julia and I parted ways a while back. She’s an incredibly gifted and wonderful person, and I truly wish the best for her.”

The best.

“But you were the best,” I whisper.

I feel like crying, but it seems like I’ve finally run out of tears, emptied the reservoirs over the last couple of months, and now all that’s left inside of me is dust.

I go back and click the second link, then the third, cycling through the old articles and interviews as if I’m expecting to find something I haven’t seen a hundred times.

Samara and Miranda are probably having drinks at The Rooftop right now. Samara texted me an hour ago, asking me if I was sure I didn’t want to go out with them instead of stalking my ex for once. I replied with another lame excuse. I’ve been avoiding people for so long that it feels like I’ve forgotten how to function in society, like some sort of feral raccoon who only knows how to hide and eat trash.

I’ve gone through all the links. I refresh the search page. Nothing has changed, obviously, but I refresh it again and again, feeling like I’m desperately knocking on his door and trying to be let in. Then I start over at the first link.

“In response to the recent speculation, I want to clarify that Julia and I parted ways a while back. She’s an incredibly gifted and wonderful person, and I truly wish the best for her.”

Samara is right, I can’t keep doing this. It’s crazy. There’s only one thing to do. I move my cursor over the red button and take a deep breath. Then I block his profile before I can change my mind.

As his picture vanishes, the entire screen blurs. It would seem that I still have some tears left.