Liability

june 14, 2014.

Six days out from my 22nd birthday, I found myself in a rather crowded restaurant in the heart of London with Sam, Lou and Gemma. Watching the three of them chat with each other rather animatedly over their food, I focused the majority of my attention on my own plate. Removed from the conversation, I swirled my fork around the plate, attempting to make it appear as though I had eaten much more than I actually had. Full after one bite, and feeling rather nauseous after the second one I forced myself to take when Sam was watching me, I didn’t want to draw any attention to my complete lack of an appetite.

Don't get me wrong, I had been excited about joining the trio for dinner tonight when Gemma had suggested it earlier in the day when she had popped into the salon for a quick wash and blow dry. But now that I was seated at the table, listening to Sam ramble on about the latest paintings her boyfriend had just finished, I no longer felt as though I was included in the group.

Happily committed in relationships, the topics of conversation they all chose to bring up for this dinner seemed to only centre around their boyfriends or Lou’s young daughter. Maybe that was just what happened when you were in love, you forget how to focus on or talk about literally anything else in the world. Had I been that bad when Jackson and I were together? Probably.

But now for the first time in four years I was single.

Actually single this time, not like Jackson and I’s previous break ups.

I didn’t know how to explain it, but this time the break up felt genuinely different. It was final. Maybe it was because he hadn’t put up a fight like he usually did. I told everyone it was a mutual break up, a concept I didn’t fully believe in. Nothing was ever mutual. I had suggested a break, and he had told me he had wanted to break up for a long time, but hadn’t found a way to bring it up to me. I had been confident in believing that I didn’t want to be with him anymore, but the sudden introduction to the fact that he genuinely didn’t care and didn’t want to be with me anymore felt similar to the way I figured it would have felt if I had just stepped out in front of a bus and let it run me over instead.

Needless to say, I had been rather down in the dumps for the last few weeks since I had finally called everything off with Jacks.

I had only waited about a week after that night he had sweet talked me out of my clothes and then left before I awoke to work up the courage to leave him. It was the final nail in the coffin on our four years together.

I couldn’t quite place my finger on why exactly I was feeling so out of it tonight, but I figured the topic of conversation had a lot to do with it. I wasn’t upset about leaving Jackson, it was just listening to this talk about love, relationships, and families had me moping over the fact that there wasn’t someone out there pining or obsessing over me. I wasn’t missing Jackson, I was just missing the feeling of being desired.

I used my fork to swirl around the over-priced gluten-free spaghetti I had been craving so badly when the waiter had shown us to our table, keeping my eyes on the sauce covered pasta as the girls chatted animatedly around me. I knew that I shouldn’t be sad, and that I was supposed to see this as a blank slate for me to make my own. The first page in the next chapter of my life.

“So Trix,” Lou’s voice brought me back down to reality, finally lifting my eyes from the nearly full plate sat in front of me. I was half expecting her to lecture me for not touching my food, her inner motherly instinct tended to shine through sometimes. “Got any plans for the big birthday next week?”

All eyes were on me as I gave a weak shrug. “Dinner and drinks?” I offered weakly.

“You don’t even drink.” Gemma eyed me skeptically, pushing forward her empty plate to lean her elbows on the table top.

“That doesn’t mean you lot can’t have some drinks and a good time.”

Sam shook her head, leaning back in her chair. “That’s stupid. It’s your birthday, Trix.”

I waved my hand in an attempt to dismiss her. “No need to make a fuss about it.”

“No! Trix it’s your birthday!” Lou cut in. “Of course we’re going to make a fuss over it.”

I was never really a huge fan of celebrating my birthday. Other people’s birthdays were fine and I would go above and beyond if they wanted me to, but I didn’t really feel that much attachment to my own. I was more concerned with holidays, not partying and celebrating just existing for another year. These three knew I wasn’t a fan of my birthday, and their insistence over doing something to celebrate was definitely just a cover for something else. They all knew Jackson and I were over, and they had to be completely daft not to notice I hadn’t been over the moon about my new relationship status. They were going to plan some obnoxious and over the top birthday celebration in an attempt to get me feeling like my usual self. I hated the idea before any of them even suggested it, but I knew it was coming.

“I’ve got an idea!” Lou cheered, albeit a little too enthusiastically as a few heads at the nearby tables turned to stare at us. “I’ve got to work next week in Paris with the boys, why don’t we all just go and make a weekend of it?”

I shook my head in disagreement, but my gesture went unnoticed.

“Yes!” Gemma exclaimed as she clapped her hands together in excitement. “Harry’s been nagging me to come out to a show and see him so this is perfect. We can all go!”

I looked to Sam for support as I tried to protest, but she was nodding her head in agreement. It looked like I was outnumbered. I shook my head again, hoping someone would acknowledge me, but they were all to focused on making plans.

“Oh, it would be the perfect excuse for a girls’ weekend!” Gemma was fishing her phone out of her purse as she spoke. “I’ll text Harry now and let him know we’re all coming so he can lave some tickets aside for us.”

“So Trix? What do you think?” I felt three sets of eyes staring at me expectantly and I suddenly wanted to be sick.

I wanted so desperately to say no, to shut down their plans and celebrate my birthday by eating leftover Chinese takeaway in my apartment while watching Netflix. But I couldn’t bring myself to vocalize my protests with all of them staring at me, so instead of speaking my mind and standing up for myself I contorted my face into a smile and nodded my head.

As Lou, Sam, and Gemma resumed chatting about the finer details about planning our trip, I let myself sink a little further into my chair. They were all pulling out their phones and frantically typing away as they spoke, no doubt rushing to book train tickets and accommodations for this incredibly last minute vacation. I kept my mouth shut, nodding occasionally whenever I heard one of them call my name to ask for my approval over something.

Despite knowing both Lou and Gemma for nearly two years now, I had never met Gemma’s brother or been to any of his band’s concerts. They had raved about how they put on a great show and insisted if I was ever free I needed to come out and see them perform, but never gotten around to it. Apparently now I was going to be thrust directly into One Direction’s world and spend my birthday with all of these people I didn’t really know. Should be an interesting series of events.

*******

“You’re okay, though, right Trix?” Sam placed a hand on my shoulder hesitantly as we left the Underground station. We were on my way back to my flat following our dinner and it had been relatively quiet between us after we said goodbye to Lou and Gemma.

I nodded my head, but I heard her let out a sigh in response, signalling her dissatisfaction with my reply. She knew I had only agreed to these birthday plans because I felt cornered. Sam was my best friend, the only person in the world I couldn’t lie to because she had gotten so good at seeing though my fibs.

We fell silent again, the only sound around us was the noise of the heels of the chelsea boots we both wore clicking against the sidewalk as we made our way down the relatively quiet East London street I called home.

Sam and I had barely talked about how I had been feeling after my break up with Jackson, mainly because I shot down the topic every time I had brought it up, but tonight she insisted we had a girls sleepover. I needed to return home to get a change of clothes and some toiletries before we were going to catch the tube over to Sam’s flat for the night. I was silently grateful for the offer to spend the night with her, as the large flat Jackson and I usually shared together was feeling far too large and far too empty these last few weeks. She proposed the sleepover after dinner under the pretence that we hadn’t had a night in to catch up in ages, but I knew she was just doing it to get me out of my flat. I was hating being alone in it, but I was too nervous to step up and say something about it.

I hated making myself seem needy or vulnerable. And I hated drawing attention to myself.

Hence my inability to turn the girls down when they brought up the Parisian birthday party.

Unlocking the front door to my flat, I heaved open the heavy wooden door and let my purse fall onto the ground in the main foyer. I probably should make a mental note to get a table of some sort in the near future. It was time to start being an adult and get some furniture for this home. Sam made her way inside, flicking the light on to bring life to the pitch black apartment. She immediately froze as the living room came into view, turning around to me with a horrified expression on her face.

I let out a defeated sigh as I let my eyes scan over the view Sam had just been greeted with. Fragments of broken dishes were scattered across the hardwood flooring, and what little furniture had been in the room was now disheveled, the small coffee table completely flipped upside down. There was a large dent in the plaster on the wall, signifying where the coffee table had made contact when it had been tossed.

“Beatrix, have you been robbed?” Sam screeched, obviously desperate to understand my lack of response to the trashed room.

I shook my head, bending down to pick up the broken pieces of china. The flat had been spotless when I had left for dinner, but it wasn’t the first time I had come home to a complete mess. “It’s just Jacks.” I answered her calmly, creating a small pile of the broken dishes in the palm of my hand.

Sam made no motion to help me clean up, instead placing her hands on her hips as she stared down at me, clearly bewildered by my lack of emotion. “Jackson did this?” She repeated slowly, trying to understand my words.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” I shrugged off the question, standing up to dispose of the broken dishes. Making my way into the kitchen, I tossed the pieces I had collected into the bin.

He hadn’t done this in awhile. Sometimes Jackson would get a little too drunk and show up angry at my flat. It was nothing new, and he had never harmed me in any way, so I never bothered to make a fuss over it. He had yet to do this since our break up, so maybe he wasn’t actually over it. He was obviously upset with me over something. Maybe he had come over to apologize and tell me he still loved me, and just got a little upset when he noticed I wasn’t home.

Four years with Jackson had made me a professional when it came to making excuses for his behaviour.

When he was a good boyfriend, he was so good. But when it was bad, it was absolutely awful.

“Does this happen a lot?” Sam asked when I returned from the kitchen.

She helped me flip the coffee table back over as I thought over my words carefully. I had mentioned once or twice at work that Jackson tended to get a little angry when he drank so I knew I couldn’t outright lie to her. Also, if this was the first time it had ever happened I would have reacted differently. She already knew the answer, Sam was just waiting to see if I was going to lie to her or not about it.

“Not as often as it used to.” My answer was vague, but I knew I couldn’t lie. “I just haven’t quite gotten around to changing the locks.”

“This isn’t safe, Trixie.” Sam bent down to pick up what was left of a lamp that had once been sat on top of the coffee table.

“It’s fine.” I spoke, ignoring Sam’s concern. “He’s not dangerous, he’s just a little upset. He’ll come around eventually.”

Jackson had never hit me or even threatened me in any way. I wouldn’t tolerate anything like that, so I wasn’t too concerned about him. Although I had been particularly fond of this coffee table my mum had bought me, but it now had a few large chips in it. It was now a bit of an eye sore, and I would probably have to replace it. It was inconvenient, but it wasn’t dangerous to me.

“He’s fucking crazy, Beatrix!” She was using my full name, signalling that she was serious now. In full protective older sister mode, she folded her arms firmly across her chest. “I can’t let you sit around and wait for him to come around. What if he bloody kills you first?”

“Don’t talk about Jacks like that!” I snapped. It was a reflex, the word’s coming out of me as if I was on autopilot.

“Don’t make excuses for his behaviour!” Sam disappeared down the hallway towards the bedroom and I reluctantly followed her a few moments later to find her pulling a suitcase out from my closet. “You’re coming to stay with me until you get these locks changed.”

“Sam-“

“No.” She cut me off, glaring at me pointedly as she tossed a fews shirts into the suitcase. “We don’t have to tell anyone, but you’re not staying here.”

I opened my mouth to protest against her as I watched her dump a few pairs of jeans into the suitcase, but I couldn’t come up with a reasonable excuse. Instead, I snatched up my journal from off of my bed where I had left it the night before. I would need to bring it with me, and I’d probably need more than my usual one line to document the series of events that had occurred today.

Maybe I was in need to a little break from this apartment. Staying at Sam’s flat for the time being would be a nice change of scenery. This house was filled with my relationship with Jackson. The walls had housed memories of every fight, every milestone, and every profession of undying love the two of us had shared over our four years together. He had become just as much a part of this house as I had. And although I felt no attachment to Jackson as a person at the moment, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of loss in the pit of my stomach when I was completely surrounded by memories of better times. I reluctantly placed the journal into the bag as well, signalling to her that I was accepting her offer to stay at her flat. It would just be a few days of fresh air to help me get out of this newly single funk.