Leave The Past In The Past

“Carlton Andrew Renn, do you take Allison Grace Evelyn Lillian McDowell to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The vicar asked me.

I smiled at me and nodded “Of course I do! I love this girl.”

The vicar chuckled and turned to Allison “Allison Grace Evelyn Lillian McDowell do you take Carlton Andrew Renn to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Allison’s face went blank. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I knew it couldn’t be good. She stopped looking at me, and cast her gaze into the crowd of people that had come to celebrate our wedding. I’d never met most of these people, and the people I had met I didn’t like. This was all just one big business meeting.

I watched as Allison’s eyes started fill with moisture, and as the first tears spilt down her cheek, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and ran.
From then on it was all in slow motion. People screamed, a few ran out of the church, but everyone else stayed seated, all eyes on me.

But I didn’t care, because all I could think about was the fact that Allison had left me. I thought she’d loved me… if not love then the least I thought was she liked me enough to get through this. But she didn’t.

And it was all over. Just like that.

Allison’s P.O.V

I had the day off. I had to use up my three weeks of holiday somehow, so I just spaced them out over the year.

I didn’t get up until ten, and once I did I walked around my flat lazily with a cup of tea in one hand and a granary bar in the other, before sitting down on the sofa and turning on the radio.

I had the whole day to do whatever I wanted. Only I didn’t, because what I wanted to do I couldn’t. I couldn’t go shopping, and I couldn’t watch TV. I couldn’t call up my friends and have a girly day (mainly because I have no friends…), and I couldn’t go to the cinema.

So basically I had the whole day to do nothing. I sighed, and the elation of having the day off disappeared.
I needed to go to the bank today to cash a check. I needed to do my washing. I needed to pay Mrs Figg rent, and I needed to go grocery shopping.

I closed my eyes wishing I was in work, and reached the post I’d got yesterday and picked up today’s.

“Bill.” I said pushing the envelope to the back “Bill, bill, bill, and 50% off pizzas at Joe’s Pizza Parlor.” – I’d go if I had the money – “Bill, bill, and yet again another bill.”

I screwed up the 50% voucher and opened the first bill; gas and electricity. The next was water. Then there was the council tax. After came the telephone bill. And then there was my life insurance, and finally “Oh!”

The last ‘bill’ wasn’t a bill at all. No, this wasn’t a bill at all; it was a formally written letter.

I skimmed through the first section that explained who the person that was writing was – Marie Johnson, solicitor – and skipped the part that explained how famous she was. But I didn’t even get through the first sentence of the third paragraph. I screwed the piece of paper up, and threw it at the wall.

How had they found me?! My eyes where wide as I jumped off the bed and made a quick plan about how I was going to escape; they couldn’t find me!

But my plan was faulted. I took a deep breath in, and shook my head; just because they’d found me didn’t mean I had to answer letters. I didn’t need to keep up contact. I would be fine.

And then I got on with my day. I went to the bank, cashed my check and paid my bills. I came home and not just did I do my washing, I cleaned the whole house from top to bottom. Twice. I got the money I needed out of a jar labeled ‘rent money’ and went to Mrs Figg. I took as I walking to the green grocers, buying everything I needed, and then I came home. With nothing else to do I cleaned the house once more for good measure, made myself dinner, and went to bed early.

I lay in bed for god knows how long, all I knew was I got in bed when it was light, and suddenly it was dark. Pitch black. I closed my eyes, but for some reason sleep didn’t come. I lay, and I lay, but sleep didn’t come.

But I suppose that had something to do with the fact that my mind wouldn’t turn off. It was whizzing around and around, and I knew why. I just… wasn’t ready yet.

I smiled sadly; I could kid myself as much as I liked with the ‘I’m not ready thing’, but I knew it wasn’t true. I could lie in bed all night and tell myself that I wasn’t ready, but I was. I’d been ready since the day I left them. I was just scared.

So I got out of bed, groped around in the air until I found the light switch, and made my way to where I’d thrown the letter. Once I’d got it I walked back to my bed and smoothed it out, my eyes falling upon the first sentence of the third paragraph quickly.

I took a deep breath, and started to read the letter “I’m writing on behalf of your father…”