Shadows of Us

ROANNE ‘’I'm so sorry, Roe. I'd like to break up.” I woke up to that text, but let's go back a little. I peeled my eyes open, and my hands instinctively patted the bed beside me, but my hands landed on an empty bed. I rolled over to check the time. ‘3:45am’. Definitely not time for his morning jog, so where was he? I rolled over to check my phone for anything, and then I saw it. The text. I'd like to break up. How British of him. I said that out loud, my tongue naturally rolling to form words to mock him, and then flattening out. Remembering that he wasn’t here. Scott Weston. I was so sure he was going to propose to me this weekend, but then he just up and disappeared, and sent me that one text. Of course, I tried to call him immediately, but he either blocked me or his phone was dead. If this wasn’t a dream, then it’s probably the former. Fast-forward to the present — which is just about 30 minutes after I saw the text — I’m sitting on the balcony chair, staring at the dark sky. I can almost hear Scott telling me it’s too cold to be outside right now, and that I should get in, shut the door and come cuddle. We’d never had s*x, but we cuddled. A lot. This is our apartment. Well technically, it’s my name in the papers, but he got it for us both just about 4 months into dating. It was closer to church than my condo anyway, so I didn’t argue. Picking up the phone I threw at the floor in anger, I swipe my cold fingers on the cracked screen and open the ‘Calendar’ app. There’s a saved event there. ‘1 year anniversary’. I’ve never been good with dates, so I have lots of saved dates and alarms set on my phone, but even if I didn’t save this one, I could never forget it. Exactly 1 yeah ago, Scott asked me to be his girlfriend. I don’t want to get into the details because I’d just cry and I don’t want to cry, but anyways. He said he’d made reservations at some Mexican restaurant and had somewhere to take me. Said it was a surprise. I really could have sworn he was going to propose. I love him, he loves me. Engagement is what’s next, right? Except I was probably wrong. I’ve thought hard about it. We had our ups and downs, but the ups were way more. We hadn’t even had a serious fight in like two months. So where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong? ‘Where are you rn?’ I send a text and it shows just one tick. Yeah, he definitely blocked me. Somehow, that just makes my heart constrict and my eyes finally gather tears as I fist my hands in anger. He can’t do this to me. He can’t. Nobody walks away from 12 months like this. A text? We literally kissed goodnight just a few hours ago! He didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face. Did he even make the reservation? I scroll up our chat to find the name of the restaurant and I search for their contact number online and place a call. Their line’s switched off, as it should be. It’s just a few minutes to 5am. Obviously, they aren’t open yet. I throw my phone at the floor again and this time, I suspect it’s gone, but I don’t care. I just keep silently wracking my brain. Searching through memories for clues, any sign that he was unhappy. I come up blank. My phone rings and I run to it, but I deflate when I see that it’s not him calling. It’s an unknown number. Normally I wouldn’t pick the call, but my mind wonders if it’s Scott. Maybe he got up for his morning run earlier than usual, got mugged and lost his phone. Then, the thief wanted to play a prank, so he sent me that text and removed the sim card in the phone, because that’s what they do when they steal phones, right? So now, this has to be Scott. He has my number memorised, so he probably borrowed a stranger’s phone. Satisfied with my theory, I pick up the phone on the third ring. “Hello” I literally sing into the phone. “Is Grayson there?” A very calm, very collected and very British female voice pours out of the phone. “Grayson? Who’s that?” “What do you-“ She clears her throat, like she was just about to lose it. Which confuses me. “My son. Grayson. He’s been with you for a while now.” Unless Scott has another name, this woman is mistaken. “Um. Could you tell me his other name?” She remains silent and I realise she put me hold. Imagine! “Hello?” I call when she resumes the call. “Lucas” “Oh nah. I don’t know him. You’ve got the wrong number, sorry. Have a great da... She hangs up. Pfft. Staring at my battered phone, I sigh. It was expensive. Scott would shake his head at me if he was here. He isn’t. The thought comes to me with a force so strong it nearly knocks all the air from my lungs. My chest gets so tight, I can’t keep the tears at bay anymore. So I finally let myself cry. The tears fall hard as ugly sobs leave my lips. I just keep crying and crying. I can’t stop. I’ve never been someone scared of love. I’ve always drifted to love my whole life. Never run away from a good feeling. Bold enough to ask a guy out if I read his body language. I’ve had my fair share of boyfriends – okay maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. I’ve had two boyfriends. One in my second year of college. We broke up a day to Graduation and that one was mutual. He was Asian and he had to return to his Country. I couldn’t go with him and I wasn’t ready for a long distance relationship, so it was the most rational thing to do. That one hurt. Broke me for a few weeks, but I made my heart understand why it had to happen and it did. Then, I was okay. But this. There’s no recovering from this one. There’s no recovering from Scott Weston. I sent a text to Cassie – my best friend, and went to wash up. I need to find Scott. He needs to give me more than that. A text? Like, it just still bothers me how he thinks he can just send me that one text, and I’ll just sit and let him go? No. Nobody finds that man and lets him go. Not trying to sound like a simp, but it’s fact. He’s a literal gem. In fact, my mum would kill me if she found out I lost him. Hell, I’d kill me! Cassie comes by at exactly 7am. She’s not a morning girl, and she definitely has work to go to because it’s Thursday, but she doesn’t let me say any of that. She just storms in, removes her coat and sits me down. “Start from the beginning,” she says, and I shrug. Acting like I didn’t just cry my eyes out 2 hours ago. “There’s no long story. I woke up strangely early, didn’t find him, got my phone and I saw the text.” “When did he send the text?” “Around 2am.” “When did you both go to bed?” “Uh. 11pm-ish? Not sure. “Hmmm” She puts a finger under her chin. “Girl! What are you trying to do?” I drawled, and she burst into laughter. “I’m trying to be a little detective here. No, but seriously. Are you sure you guys didn’t fight? Or didn't you say anything to hurt him?” “I’m so sure. I literally spent most of our time together praying that I wouldn’t lose him. I was careful, girl. I don’t…” my voice breaks a bit as tears fill my eyes again.