13

 

 

 

It had been at least 7 minutes since Alex had left but Lara still couldn’t tear her eyes away from the door. She just stood there. Her cheeks were stained with mascara. She looked a mess. She felt a mess. She was a mess.

 

She stared a few moments longer but then her legs went all tingly and she had to sit down. She put her head on the table, fiddled idly with a knot in the wood and looked ahead. There was mould on the fruit. Was that mould? On closer inspection Lara found that the white substance upon the apples was not mould, but Cif. This didn’t bode well for her emotional state and soon the floodgates were open once again.

 

Just leaving the fruit how it was was out of the question and so Lara bravely chose to try and absolve the situation. While still crying. This was not going to be easy. She considered rinsing the foam off the produce but that would mean having to touch the Cif. After much deliberation and tears, Lara decided to f**k saving the food and threw it in the bin, bowl and all.

 

She had been crying consistently for over an hour now and her stomach was beginning to hurt. She’d reached that stage when all you can do is occasionally involuntarily gasp and your cheeks are stinging from the constantly present tears.

 

After getting changed into her pyjama bottoms, Lara wrapped her duvet around herself and went to lie down on the sofa. She turned on the TV and Loose Women was on. John Barrowman was a guest. Her 3^rd and 5^th most hated things. She turned it off again.

 

Then she glanced to the side of the TV and saw Alex’s Playstation controller in a mess on the floor. Usually this would have made her angry but today, in this state, it just made her weep even harder until there were little grey puddles on her duvet. She wiped her eyes on her bedding. An awful lot of black transferred from her face to the blanket.

 

She needed someone to take care of her. She needed someone not involved in the situation that could make her laugh and tell her what to do. It was a toss up between greasy, assuming Millie, or Jude. Millie would bring Elliot. Jude would come alone. Millie would start crying too. Jude had a heart of stone. Millie would blow the whole situation out of proportion. Jude would put the situation into perspective. Millie smelt slightly of dog. Jude it was.

 

Lara groped around down the back of the sofa cushion for her phone. She found Alex’s old glasses. She cried a little bit more. She found her phone.

 

There was no answer. She attempted to leave a message but was interrupted every few seconds by those involuntary gasps.

 

After ringing off, Lara put Loose Women back on again. She hoped her anger could distract her until Jude came. But it got the better of her. And she ended up tearfully shouting. Rather loud.

 

“You’re a prick, Barrowman!”

 

It felt good.