My Tourniquet

Breathing in deeply, I inhale the unmistakable smell of Shades, a mixture of cheap perfume, sweat and booze. Not the most pleasant combination, but in my current state, I am aching for familiarity. And if nothing else, the club is certainly that.

I ignore the people dancing to the pulsing music and make a beeline for the bar.

"Vodka and Coke, please," I inform the bartender, slapping my money down on the table.

He scrutinises me carefully. "Can I see some ID?"

I sigh loudly. "I was nineteen a month ago. Had my party here." Still, I show him my student card.

Nodding somewhat doubtfully, he gets me my drink. I take it with a muttered 'thanks' but make no move to drink it. Brooding into the glass, I contemplate the day's events. It makes sense, really. My life was going so well; something had to go and screw it up.

Someone storms over and plonks themselves next to me with a heavy sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see it's a girl, about my age. She's quite pretty, with a shock of ginger hair that falls to the middle of her bare back and grass green eyes. She's not my type; she's wearing too much makeup and minimal clothing. But there’s no denying she's pretty. However, her kohl-rimmed eyes are red from crying and her mascara is starting to run. From the crushed expression on her face that she's trying in vain to mask behind a shaky smile, I'm guessing she's just been dumped.

"Can I get you anything?" the bartender asks.

The pretty girl shakes her head, but then appears to change her mind. "I'll have whatever he's having." 'He' apparently refers to me.

I look over as she fumbles in her purse, chewing on her lip, and make the decision almost instantly. "It's on me," I inform the bartender, handing him the money. "And make it a double. She looks like she needs it."

"Thanks," the girl mutters. She sighs, running a hand through her hair, and gives me a hesitant smile. "I'm Chloe."

"Robin," I reply. I raise my glass in toast. "Here's to being dumped."

"How did you know?" she asks, surprised.

I shrug. "You just have that look."

Chloe nods resignedly. "Yeah, I guess I do." Downing her drink, she gets to her feet. "Do you want to dance?"

"What?"

"It's just, you look as miserable as I feel," she explains. "And I could do with the company."

"And you want to make your ex jealous," I add in a wry tone.

She smiles apologetically. "Yeah, that too."

I smile back. "No problem." I down the rest of the glass and let her lead me on to the dance floor. "Which one's your ex?"

"Blonde, red shirt," Chloe informs me as we start dancing.

I look over her shoulder at the blonde guy behind her. "He looks jealous," I observe.

She smiles. "Good."

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After dancing for a couple of songs, we sit back down at the bar.

"Would you like some champagne?" the bartender asks. "It's on the house." He nods to a happy, laughing couple who are probably celebrating their engagement/wedding/random anniversary. It's like a slap in the face for me.

"Champagne's for celebrating," I mutter darkly. "I'll have a martini."

"Same," Chloe echoes. Nodding, the bartender gets us our drinks without another word. "So, how did you get dumped?"

"I don't know if I got dumped, per se. My girlfriend, Steph, left her books, her car, her clothes and a note, but all she wrote was: tonight I'm leaving on a train." I sighed. "She didn't need to say where. Back to her loser of an ex-boyfriend, Ryan. They were together for years, and she loved him so much. He hurt her all the time, physically, emotionally and verbally, but she would still keep going back to him. I've known Steph since we were four. We were best friends for fourteen years and I was in love with her for the better part of that. You've no idea how much it hurt me to see her hurt like that."

"Aw, that's horrible," Chloe says sympathetically. "So how did you guys get together? Did she break up with Ryan?"

I laugh harshly. "No. She could never break up with him. He found someone else and dumped her. He moved shortly after that to go to university. This was last year. Steph was heartbroken. She cried over him for six whole months; it took me that long to get up the courage to tell her how I felt." I allow myself a small smile at the memory, but it soon disappears. "I thought she was happy with me. I thought she loved me. Turns out she was just biding her time until she could go back to him."

"But how do you know she's with him?" Chloe asks sceptically.

"Believe me, I know Steph," I say bitterly. "She's with Ryan.” I gulp down my drink to soothe my scratchy throat. “You know what hurts the most?"

"Being so close?" she jokes. Cascada's playing in the background.

I shake my head. "That she would choose him over me. I mean, what does that say about me?"

"Well, she's an idiot," Chloe says softly, reaching over to squeeze my hand supportively. "My break-up pales in comparison. He doesn't think I'm mature enough for him."

"Screw maturity," I retort. "People grow up too quickly these days."

Heat creeps into her cheeks, colouring them pink, and she looks away. "It's not that. He, um, he wanted me to sleep with him, but I wasn't ready."

"He dumped you because of that?" I'm incredulous. "Chloe, if a guy loves you, really loves you, he'll wait until you're ready. He'll wait forever if he has to."

She smiles. "Robin, you're really sweet. I would kiss you, but it wouldn't be fair on either of us."

"Why not?" I ask, confused.

"Because I can see how much you love her," she says softly, getting to her feet. She scribbles something on a piece of paper and hands it to me. "Here. Call me if you ever get over her."

I smile weakly at her. "Will do. It was nice meeting you."

She smiles back. "You too, Robin. I'll see you around."

I turn back to the bar as she walks away. Suddenly, I'm not in the mood to get shit-faced like I originally planned. I down my drink, push the glass away from me and stride out, leaving behind the noisy, claustrophobic atmosphere, and head for my apartment.

As I fumble with the keys, I'm praying to whoever might be listening that Steph's still here, that she didn't abandon me for Ryan. But as I bound through the door, my hopes higher than the heavens, that fantasy is reduced to rubble and my heart plummets lower than hell.

The apartment hums with emptiness, though it's full of stuff. It's as if Steph occupied a space that cannot be filled by anything else. She's not here, and I don't need to check the rest of the apartment to make sure. Deflated, I trudge into our - no, my - bedroom, flicking on the light switch. The room is bathed in artificial light, casting shadows on the carpet, the wardrobe and the double bed we shared. I can't bear to look at it, so I turn off the light, returning the room to shadows.

Stripping to my boxers, I crawl into bed, too tired and miserable to do anything else. As I lie there, no matter how hard I try not to, all I can think about is Steph. Her smile, her beautiful, beautiful smile lingers in my vision, torturing me. Sleep doesn’t come easy tonight.

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I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved

The radio filters through my slumber. My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light streaming in from the window. Squinting, I sit up, my mind groggy. Something’s wrong, but I can’t quite remember what.

Everything comes flowing back, however, when I glance beside me to where Steph should be. My face hardens and I stomp into the bathroom to have a shower.

When I emerge, wrapping a towel around my waist, I hear the doorbell ring. Briefly wondering who else would be up at nine twenty three on a Saturday except for me, I trudge to the door. En route, however, I catch my reflection in the hallway mirror and grind to a halt.

I need a haircut. That’s the first thing I notice. Steph liked my too-long dark brown hair, which is currently dripping with water, but I’m perpetually flicking it out of my brown eyes, and to be perfectly honest, it’s getting annoying. But anything to please Steph. The rest of me isn’t particularly impressive either. “Well-built” and “muscular” are words that can never and will never be applied to me. Not like Ryan, with his six pack and arms like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The doorbell pings again. Snapping out of my reverie, I head to the door and haul it open. The person standing there, their back to me, turns around, revealing their face and their identity.

My mouth drops to the floor. “Steph? What- what are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she replies, smiling uncertainly, and I can tell she’s been crying from her red-rimmed eyes. She looks away, heat creeping into her cheeks. “You’re half-naked.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.” I feign casualness, but inside, my heart is pumping like I’ve just run a marathon and my stomach’s twisting into anxious knots. I didn't think she’d be back this soon. “You could have used your key.”

“I left it,” she reminds me.

“Right,” I reply, not sure what else to say.

We stand there, awkward. Some part of me wonders how the hell this happened. How we became so… fragmented.

Steph’s face cracks and she steps forward, enveloping me in a hug. I can hear her crying softly as she holds me tight. I don’t think she’s realised I’m not reciprocating.

I prise her off me uncomfortably and shut the door behind her. “You’d better come in.”

Nodding, she walks inside and perches on the end of the sofa. I join her, suddenly self-conscious.

“So, where’d you go yesterday? I was worried,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t with Ryan. Maybe she just went on an innocent trip and I’ve blown everything out of proportion.

But, for all my wishful thinking, I know that’s not true. I know where she was. The look on her face is enough to tell me. It’s the Ryan look.

She avoids my gaze, instead looking at her hands, twisting themselves in her lap. “Robin, I- I went to see Ryan.”

Though I was expecting it, that simple, innocent sentence hits me in the chest and knocks the wind right out of me. I knew it. I knew it. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less, like she’s stabbed me and is twisting the knife in further and further.

“I had to,” she continues, oblivious to the broken boy beside her. “I had to make it right between us. You understand that, don’t you?” I don’t say anything. I can’t. She carries on anyway. My response clearly isn’t required. “But he only wanted a one-night stand. That became clear when his girlfriend walked in on us this morning.”

I swallow hard. “Right.”

“I love him,” she whispers, too quietly for me to hear. Or so she thinks. Those three words are the final nail in the coffin. She said ‘love’. Not ‘loved’.

But it doesn’t hurt as much as before. Instead, I feel kind of… relieved? The feeling started as a small pinprick in my chest, but now it’s spreading throughout my body, washing over me with its liberation. Steph loves Ryan. She always has and she always will. I don’t even factor into the equation. I never did.

“I can’t believe he’d do that to me. It’s his girlfriend's fault,” she says savagely. “He’d be with me if it wasn’t for her.”

I have to laugh. The soft, bittersweet sound echoes throughout the apartment. Steph looks confused.

“Not this time, Steph,” I tell her, shaking my head. “Not this time.”

“What?” she asks, her face contorted with confusion.

“I’m not going to catch you this time,” I say simply. “You’re on your own now.”

“But why, Robin?” she asks, genuinely confused. “You’re my best friend. You’re always there for me.”

“No, Steph, I’m not,” I say patiently. “I’m your boyfriend. There’s a big difference. I’m your boyfriend, and you cheated on me.”

She’s starting to understand, but I can see she’s not quite there yet. “I- I’m sorry.”

“It took you that long to say it,” I reply, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “You come here, all cut up, after abandoning me for your ex and cheating on me with him, and expect me to hold you and tell me everything’s going to be okay. What about me, Steph? What about me? Don’t I matter at all to you?”

“Of- of course you do,” she says, faltering slightly.

“Oh really? You’re right. I have always been there for you. Every time you got your heartbroken I was there to hold you and protect you from the world. But what did I get in return? I loved you, Steph. I loved you so much. But I can’t do this anymore.”

“But… but…” She scrambles for words, but she doesn’t know what to say.

“You don’t love me, Steph,” I tell her. “You never have. I’m just your stupid, dependable best friend who you can always rely on to be there. But not this time. I’m done with it.”

“But Robin,” she whispers, the tears slipping out of her eyes, “I do love you. I’m done with Ryan, I promise. I promise I’ll never go back to him.”

I shake my head pitifully. “I wish I could believe you. But you forget, Steph: I’ve known you since we were four years old. I know you better than you know yourself.”

She closes her eyes with sick realisation, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, Robin. I’m so, so sorry.”

I nod slightly. “I know.”

I hug her quickly, briskly. She clings to me for as long as she can, but then I prise her gently off me and set her aside. She’s crying freely now, thick, fat tears that roll out of her beautiful, broken blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I guess we just weren’t meant to be.”

She chokes out a laugh. “Yeah. I guess. Robin, do you think- do you think we could still be friends?”

“No, Steph,” I say quietly. “I don’t think that’s wise. A clean break is best for everyone.”

She nods resignedly. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispers.

“Me too,” I say softly, brushing a hair away from her face.

She draws in a deep, shuddery breath and plasters a painfully fake smile on her face. “This is it, then. We’re over.”

“Steph,” I say gently, “we never really began.”

The smile slips slightly, but she ducks her head so I can’t see the tears refilling her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is clear, cold, but I can tell she’s trying incredibly hard to mask her pain. “I’ll be back tomorrow for my stuff.”

I nod. “Goodbye, Stephanie.”

“Goodbye,” she whispers. She looks up and gives me one, final smile, before turning away and trudging out of the door and out of my life forever.

Exhaling slowly, I collapse on the sofa, exhausted. A hesitant smile creeps onto my face and I head into my bedroom. Rummaging in the pockets of yesterday’s jeans, I pull out my phone and key in a number. It starts to ring and I put it to my ear, praying they’ll answer.

“Hi Chloe,” I say, smiling. “It’s me. Robin.”