Starting over

The kettle whistled, her breath hitched and her eyes were glassy, “I’m sorry”, she picked up her bag as if the squeal was her call to leave, putting the strap over her head. “I have to go”, she waited looking to the kettle but not at me, she waited more “Well?”.

I wanted her to look at me, just once more, but I could only see the side of her face; her short lashes, the small scar on her cheek, the downturn of her lip, the flare of her nostrils and the workings of her neck as she tried to breathe. 

If she had only just looked at me, but she put her back to me and left without another word, her body rigid. The door shut and the kettle howled, my phone rang with a text and all I did was stare at the door. 

—

Days before, we had had an argument in a queue at a café, she only wanted half a sandwich but I only wanted the salmon one and she hated salmon. The girls in front looked back at us discreetly as she called me a string of names and I called her a cow. She stormed off, I awkwardly stayed in the line, for some reason I couldn’t move. 

The coffee machine screamed as the milk bubbled. 

—

The kettle whistled, her breath hitched and her eyes were glassy, “I’m sorry” she picked up her bag but I stopped her hand,

“You don’t get to be sorry and then leave me like this” my voice was angry, it was deep in my chest, but the words were quiet and weak.

She stared at the kettle, I looked at the side of her face; her short lashes, the small scar on her cheek, the downturn of her lip, the flare of her nostrils and the workings of her neck as she tried to breathe. 

If she had only just looked at me, but she put her back to me and left without another word, her body rigid. The door shut and the kettle howled, my phone rang with a text and all I did was stare at the door. 

—

I saw her mum, she was sympathetic, but she hated her mum and I couldn’t find it in myself to be sympathetic back.

She seemed to know this “That girl corrupted everything she touched, it would do you good to forget her” 

Like you did, I wanted to say, but I didn’t, only nodded and stared at my shoes and hers between us. 

—

The kettle whistled, her breath hitched and her eyes were glassy, “I’m sorry”, she picked up her bag as if the squeal was her call to leave, but I stopped her,

“You don’t get to be sorry and then leave me like this” my voice was colder than I wanted it to be.

I wanted her to look at me, just once more, she stared at the kettle “I don’t know what you want me to say” I looked at the side of her face; her short lashes, the small scar on her cheek, the downturn of her lip, the flare of her nostrils and the workings of her neck as she tried to breathe. 

The kettle screamed “Look at me!” it came from somewhere deep, it was released with a voice I’d never had, a frustration and a sadness I’d never let out before.

Just for a second I thought she was going to look at me, she jumped at my voice as it had blended with the kettle. If she had only just looked at me, but she put her back to me and left without another word, her body rigid. The door shut and the kettle howled, my phone rang with a text and all I did was stare at the door. 

—

“You always do this, every night!” she cried, walking ahead of me, her arms raised and her hair awry

“Because every night, every night! you’re flirting with someone, right in front of me!” I called back, she almost slipped on the pavement in her heels, my heart jolted,

“It was a joke, I was trying to get us drinks-god you’re so bloody needy” she cried back, I could hear the tears in her voice,

“I should be crying!” I whimpered, my chest hurt “Do you hear me, I should be upset, you’re always the victim!”

She flipped me off and called someone on her phone, walking way ahead of me, I had no energy to keep up and only watched her fade into the distance, yet not too far to lose her. 

—

The kettle whistled, her breath hitched and her eyes were glassy, “I’m sorry”, she picked up her bag as if the squeal was her call to leave, but I stopped her,

“You don’t get to be sorry and then leave me like this” I could feel the anger heated in my chest, I wanted to scream, because she just couldn’t hear me,

I wanted her to look at me, just once more, she stared at the kettle “I don’t know what you want me to say” 

I looked at the side of her face; her short lashes, the small scar on her cheek, the downturn of her lip, the flare of her nostrils and the workings of her neck as she tried to breathe, “You’ve broken it, everything, and you can’t even look at me!” I tried to grab her shoulder but she didn’t budge, nothing could turn her. The kettle screamed “Look at me!” it came from somewhere deep, the anger that had always been bubbling, the voice had always been there, a frustration and a sadness i’d never let out before “Why won’t you just look at me!”

Just for a second I thought she was going to look at me, she jumped at my voice as it had rung over the kettle. If she had only just looked at me, but she put her back to me “Because I can’t stand you” she whispered.

Before she could leave I grabbed her shoulder and spun her, but my rage had blinded me and I couldn’t see her face “Everything we had, everything we did and said, after all that shit your mum put you through and you throw it away for what, tell me!”

“God this crappy kettle!” she cried

“Fuck the kettle, fuck you!” I cried back as she grabbed it and dashed it into the sink.

It splashed us both and singed our skin, everything went quiet as she picked her bag up, the door shut and my phone rang with a text, I stared at the door.

—

Whenever she went to the corner shop she’d stop by the toy shop and pick me out a soft keychain teddy. It had started as a joke, the first had been a dog with a patch on its eye, but it progressed through all the animals; a tiger, cat, lion, zebra, toucan, cow, turtle and too many others to count. I had one on every one of my bags and even more set up on on my shelves, their little black eyes always looked at me sweetly.

—

The kettle whistled, her breath hitched and her eyes were glassy, but I couldn’t see them, I knelt on the floor, “I’m sorry” she said, she went to pick up her bag but I held the strap, she tugged weakly,

“You don’t get to be sorry and then leave me like this” the words were only a whisper 

“We can’t keep doing this” she whispered back, I let the bag slip from my hands. 

I wanted to look up but I couldn’t, I regretted it when I heard the door shut, that I couldn’t have looked at her face one last time. My phone rang with a text.

—

“You basically live here now” I said with a laugh as she unpacked a parcel

She laughed “its only a few things, and how don’t you have a kettle?” she unboxed some vintage looking thing,

“Of course you got this” I said with a smirk, admiring its bright green colour, she got out a matching set of cups and saucers. 

She’d gotten tubs for all the stuff in the cupboards and we spent the whole afternoon reordering and labelling everything we could find. 

—

The kettle whistled, her breath hitched and her eyes were glassy, “I’m sorry” she picked up her bag as if the squeal was her call to leave, putting the strap over her head, “I have to go”, she waited, looking to the kettle but not at me, she waited more “Well?”.

I stared at the kettle, the saucers and things which I had put in a box, there was a tortoise keychain on the window sill, “I love you, and I’m sorry”.

I wanted her to look at me, just once more, but I could only see the side of her face; her short lashes, the small scar on her cheek, the downturn of her lip, the flare of her nostrils and the workings of her neck as she tried to breathe. 

I was waiting for something, my heart thudded “Can you not just look at me?”

She sighed tiredly and shook her head “you got it wrong again” 

“What” I whispered

If she had only just looked at me, but she put her back to me and left without another word, her body rigid. The door shut and the kettle howled, my phone rang with a text and all I did was stare at the door. 

—

“Sometimes I think my mum remembers things differently to me, you know?” she said one night, she had been crying and she was drunk, she’d texted me late at night and it had said look at your phone!

“Like what?” I asked

She laughed a little “It sounds stupid but…I remember this time I had this party, for my sixth birthday, I had everything I wanted, nothing fancy. It was the best day of my life, you know when you have one great day as a kid and you can’t imagine it being any better ever again? Well my mum, she cried the second everyone left, she went on and on about this kid that sat on one of the stools and it broke, and I got a tear in my dress and the cake frosting wasn’t the pink she wanted it to be. To her it was awful, to this day she says it was the worst, and how upset and let down I was, how it wasn’t enough…” she shuddered and sniffed “I feel my whole life she tried to use me for her disappointments, that if I hadn’t had a birthday party in the first place it might not have been so terrible”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that, mums never think they’re doing anything right”

She smiled at me, but she seemed disappointed when I think back on it now, “Yeah maybe”, she shook her head to wake herself up “It sounds silly I know, but I think we like to see things the way we prefer, but not the real way”

“What is the real way?” I asked, she didn’t answer me.

—

The kettle whistled, her breath hitched and her eyes were glassy, “I’m sorry”, she picked up her bag as if the squeal was her call to leave, putting the strap over her head “I have to go”, she waited, looking to the kettle but not at me, she waited more “Well?”

I wanted her to look at me, just once more, but I could only see the side of her face; her short lashes, the small scar on her cheek, the downturn of her lip, the flare of her nostrils and the workings of her neck as she tried to breathe. But then I realised she wasn’t ever going to look back at me.

She put her back to me and walked to the door “Look” she whispered, I almost didn’t hear it,

My phone went off but I shook my head “no, because you’ll leave if I do”

“No, you need to look” she says, I stared at the back of her head, I could feel my phone in my pocket, so heavy “You have to look and I have to leave, it doesn’t matter what you say, what you do”

I couldn’t see through my tears but I took my phone out, my hands shaking, and I looked. The door closed and the kettle whistled. 

—

Its Kelsey’s mum, please call x

—

“I know we argue and all, and I know I can be shitty, but we’re good together right?” she asked once

I laughed “Do you have to ask?” I said, fiddling with a piece of thread stuck in her hair,

“Well yeah, you know, after everything…everything I did” she shrugged “I just always seem to mess up somehow” 

I smiled “we all do, don’t we?”

She smiled a little and looked out the window “But I never feel sorry enough, never feel like things get fixed” 

“We can always start over again, second chances, third, fourth, firth, sixth-ow!” she nudged me hard and we laughed,

She looked at me sadly “but we didn’t talk like this did we, we never actually talked about it, ever”

The kettle whistled somewhere, I couldn’t see it, and my stomach turned “I just didn’t want you to go…I let you go, and then you…”

She smiled and stroked my hair “It wasn’t your fault, I walked out like I always did…you can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t do” she kissed my head and got up “I have to go now” 

“Where to?”

She shrugged “I don’t know, this didn’t really happen”

—

“You don’t have to look” she whispered to me and I sighed, nodding. 

“I have to” I whispered and slowly walked down, her mum had a tight grip on my arm as we went, as if she wanted to drag me back. 

“I made sure she looked beautiful” she whispered, the walk felt like a mile, my legs were numb and my throat dry. Someone had moved her head on the pillow “They thought it looked best that way, what with how it happened…but I think she looks nice, as if she’s sleeping” 

I could only see the side of her face; her short lashes, the small scar on her cheek, the downturn of her lip. I wanted to move her, to see her better, but her mothers grip was strong on me and I thought I’d fall if she let go. 

I really looked at her, I let her envelope my every thought and then I breathed a long breath and let her out.