Lost Angel (The List #1) (3 page)

I lower myself into the deeply filled tub and
begin to wash away my exhaustion, self-pity and negativity. It feels amazing
and whether it’s because I’m in Wills home, I don’t know, but I feel like I’m
looking at my life through new eyes—not with neurotic
happily-ever-after
blinkers.

I feel as though I’m having an enlightening
experience. Looking down on myself as I float on the mist from the heat of the
water. This woman isn’t beaten. She’s not a ‘has been’. She isn’t wrong for making
sacrifices or for committing to a relationship with somebody she loves. This
woman is a pure and honest person and it’s about time she realised exactly what
her mind and body are capable of.
Pep talk nailed!

8:20pm

“Hey there beautiful… You’re just in time for
wine o’clock, get in here.” I join Wills in the lounge. “I hope you’re feeling
as good as you look because you are glowing girl!”

She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with a
large glass of chilled white wine in one hand, gesturing for me to take the
second glass from her outreached hand.

I gratefully accept the chilled glass from her.
“Mmm that was divine Wills. It was exactly what I needed. It’s been a mind-fuck
of a day but I’m feeling curiously relaxed now.” I mirror her position opposite
the coffee table on a gorgeous shag pile rug.

Wills clicks mute on the television remote
control to give me her undivided attention. “B, I know you’ve probably just
done a lot of deep thinking in that bath and you and Mike have probably got
more conversations to have before you find any sort of closure... But for now,
can you just tell me where your head’s at… You know, are you having doubts?
Confident it’s over? Happy? Wanna talk, cry, scream, get pissed?” Leaving
herself breathless, she giggles and adds “
Please let one know dear, so one
can cater one’s friendship accordingly
.” Saying her final words with her
best Queens English, flashing me her beautiful smile, with a look of
anticipation.

“O-okay… Well, as it stands… I don’t feel like
crying, having a meltdown, screaming or any of those things. I know there was
no other choice and although we were years into a relationship, I’ve got to be
grateful that it’s happened now and not even more years down the line.” It’s
true. “It must seem like it’s suddenly happened in an afternoon, but I think
that unbeknownst to us we’ve both been subconsciously preparing ourselves for
this for a while now… Maybe that’s why it seems less traumatic than I would
have ever envisaged.” I take a large gulp of wine, clear my throat and return
my best Queens English; “
So my darling friend Willow, please refrain from
catering your friendship to suit my needs, as it appears all one needs you to
be, is you; your wonderful self.”
I may be joking but she knows I mean it.

“Sorry to bombard you babe, I just want to do
whatever I can to support you.”

“I know. You’ve already done so much Wills, thank
you.” I raise my glass and she follows suit, “To the ‘Next Chapter’. Cheers!” 

We clink glasses, marking the start of a girly
evening in with my best buddy doing what we do best; gossiping until our jaws
ache and giggling until our sides hurt. It’s long overdue and so much
appreciated. I brush away a pang of regret that I’ve always put Mike first,
before myself, my life and my friendships. Hence why there’s only Willow that I
wholeheartedly trust and love. I have friends but nobody else that I’m close
to, that’s stuck with me. Let’s face it, I’ve not been the kind of friend I
want to be. Now there’s nothing in my way.

Sunday 15
^th
March 2015

12:12am

A
fter we finish the second bottle, it’s a little
after midnight so we say our farewells and I find myself in bed replying to a
text message Mike must’ve sent me earlier, whilst my phone’s been charging in
the bedroom. His message reads:

Bethany, this is so strange. The house
feels empty without you here. The bedroom is bare without your ‘stuff’ around. Hope
you’ve settled into Willows place. How are you feeling? Of course, if you think
it’s odd for us to text like this so soon I’ll completely understand. I thought
we’d meticulously covered all angles of practicalities before you went but I’m
not sure about this. Okay. Text me when you can so I know you’re okay please.

I’m tipsy and tired.

Hey Mike, sorry it’s late, been up
talking with Wills. I’m fine, cheers 4 asking… No regrets?

I think I needed to ask him about regrets to
help reassure me that my ‘no regrets’ attitude is mutual, which will help me to
continue in this transition. My phone pings just as I’m about to dock it. 

Thanks for replying at last. Bit
confused though, when you left we both agreed that we would never make this decision
unless it was for sure… No confusion. No regrets. I hope you still feel the
same. I don’t want to hurt you Bethany.

Damn he types fast when he’s anxious. Well,
there’s my confirmation; he clearly echoes my emotions and I feel one last knot
of uncertainty in my tummy undo. I type a speedy reply.

Don’t worry, just double checking. I
still feel the same. Nite

I hit send, dock my phone and easily drift off
into a wonderful uninterrupted sleep.

8:30am

The heat of the sun basks on my eyelids as I
start to wake to the crooning sounds of Jimmy Cliff’s, “I Can See Clearly Now”.
Willow changed my alarm ringtone in a moment of clarity last night. Which begs
the question, why did she not think to change the time too? Isn’t it way too
early for my first wake up as a single woman?

Not an attractive start either; Dry lips,
tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and eyes feeling like they’re glued shut.
I blindly stretch out, snatch up my phone and swipe to snooze. I’m a lightweight
drinker at the best of times but a bottle
each
and on an empty stomach
is asking for trouble. 

I attempt to peel my eyes open wider and as the
sunlight shoots to the back of my head a thunderous headache descends like a wicked
departing gift from the wine. “Oooou-ch.” I croak.

In true best friend style and bang on cue,
Willow knocks and swoops in to the rescue, with a glass of cold orange juice, a
headache tablet and far too much energy.

“Sorry, I heard Jimmy...” She smirks
mischievously. “How’s my partner in wine doing? Sleep okay?” Handing me the
juice and tablet, she perches on the edge of the mattress next to me. I take a welcome
mouthful, swilling it around my desert dry mouth, letting the moisture soak in before
I swallow, licking my lips.

“Soundly... I literally did not wake up at
all—comatose.” After knocking back the tablet with the next swig, I start to
feel more human. “Thanks for last night by the way… and in the spirit of your
thoughtful alarm track, how about we get motivated and go for run?” Her
forehead immediately crinkles in an expression of blatant protest so I give her
a light punch on her upper arm. “
Come on
, I need to start as I mean to
go on and it’d be great to have a running partner—” I finish my juice, put down
my empty glass and start pouting.

It’s no good. The look on Willow’s face says it
all and this girl’s not budging.

“Beth, I love working out but I burn my
calories down the gym where there’s plenty of randy eye candy to keep me
entertained. No offence but the sight of you nearly giving yourself two black
eyes doesn’t do it for me babe.”

“Excuse me, I wear shock absorbers—”

“That’s one helluva shock to absorb.”

Point taken. I throw the back of my hand across
my forehead dramatically, turning my face away from her in mock horror and she
smacks my arm away.

“Well my trusty running soundtrack will have to
keep me company instead… After all—” Then, as loud as my head will permit, I
sing the lyrics that woke me. Wills joins in as she skips her
far-too-spritely-ass
out of the room, leaving me to get up.

After freshening up and getting dressed, I
resolve to unpack the rest of my bags properly when I return from my run. I
plot out a route on my phones running app, grab a sports shake, put in my
earphones and shout goodbye.

10:04am

Six miles and an hour later, I return; ten minute
miles. Not bad on a bottle of wine and a marriage breakdown. I sweated out the
alcohol and used my run to get my head straight and made mental lists of
everything I could think of that needs to be done both personal and business. 

After stretching off on the driveway, I head in
the house feeling physically drained but mentally energized, ready to get
started on tackling these new to do lists. I stroll into the lounge and find Wills
sitting on her yoga mat in the lotus position meditating. I silently retreat
and slip upstairs to jump in the shower.

Once dressed, I put my towel-dried hair in a
long thick French plait and continued emptying my clothes onto the bed, most of
which are thankfully still attached to their hangers. The double fitted
wardrobe in my room soon fills up but I notice a distinct lack of colour.
Note
to self: Inject some colour into my wardrobe, and my life, on my next shopping
frenzy.

Each bag I unpack makes me feel more at home
and settled. I put my laptop and Next Chapters files and paperwork onto the dressing
table, which can act as my workspace. I put a couple of framed photos out too,
including one of me with my mother and my late-grandmother standing on the
threshold of Next Chapter.   

I inherited the bookshop from my grandmother six
years ago, when she passed away, I was 21. It was a difficult time for us
because she was so close to my mother, similarly to my relationship with my
mother. Plus she was the last of her generation. Next Chapter had been her shop
for seventeen years, a somewhat spontaneous purchase at a cheap price
apparently. It was being sold as a shell of a shop in drastic need of
renovation. My grandmother fell in love with it, being inspired to fulfil a
dream of hers. My mom often tells me how my grandmother said that she didn’t
see the cracks, the cobwebs or the rotting floorboards. What she saw was
endless opportunity and potential. They didn’t need the money, it was done out
of pure love, devotion and hard work.

With the help of my grandfather, my parents and
friends, that shell soon transformed into her welcoming quaint bookshop, with a
heart-warming family feel. I have such fond memories of visiting there for
hours on end when I was growing up. Doing my homework, sitting reading, writing
poetry, surrounded by the smell of books and coffee – I’ve always loved books
and was destined to love coffee too.

I was astonished when she’d left it to me in
her will; I’d assumed it would have been my parents’. But it turns out that the
women had discussed it in depth and she’d wanted me to have a small business
giving me some security whilst turning a profit to help pay for my education.

There was no pressure for me to work there, as
it was already fully functional. It was an established business, with long
standing knowledgeable employees running it. My grandmother would come and go,
more sporadically towards the end; the staff and customers alike loved her
dearly. They’ve all remained loyal to her too, often using it to introduce
their next generations to the world of words and so on.

My parents inherited her home and a sizable
amount of money, so they rented out their own house and moved in. A couple of
years later, they made the tough decision to sell both properties and relocate
to St Ives on the coast. We used to holiday there all the time growing up, it’s
utterly stunning there.

I was newly engaged to Mike and living on cloud
nine at the time but I still had to reassure Mom that I’d be fine. They’d
always planned to retire there but bought their plans forward, which I knew was
a great decision for them. My dad worked in construction, floating successfully
from one contract to another, letting his reputation precede him. My mom had
been a nurse for over twenty years and spent the majority of that time working
in a very demanding inner-city accident and emergency department. Some of the
stories I’ve heard over the years are not for the faint hearted. From gang
shootings to limbs hanging off, from gouged eyes to wine bottles up anuses!
It’s a bloody good job I’m not squeamish, no pun intended. Leaving that job was
a massive step for her. My dad took it with a pinch of salt as he didn’t have
any emotional ties to his jobs. He would soon substitute the physical side of
his role with home improvements and other self-made determined projects, not to
mention all the odd jobs he soon roped himself into for his friendly neighbourhood.

I believe that each time they lost one of their
parents it altered their priorities and outlook on life. Now they had enough
financial backing to both take early retirement. My parents are so beautifully
in love, they are the epitome of truelove for me. They’ve always been my
inspiration for my
happily ever after
. Plus the hundreds of romance
novels at my fingertips serving to heighten my potentially deluded expectations.

I soon fell in love with their new home. Waking
up to clear blue skies for miles and a breath-taking sea view does something magical
to your mind-set. The pace of living isn’t hurried, when you go for a walk,
strangers smile, stop and talk. I joked to my dad one day asking if everybody
who lives there attends a monthly hypnosis putting them in a state of peace,
happiness and tranquillity. That’s what it’s like and it’s so surreal in stark
comparison to the Midlands. You’re reminded of the important things in life and
I totally get why my parents see it as their resting place. Perhaps one day
I’ll want to escape the rat race and follow.

Whenever I return home from a visit, driving
down the M6 motorway, I feel the air getting heavier with each passing
junction.  The roads become more and more claustrophobic along with my thoughts
and anxieties… Maybe I should start my property searching in St Ives and not
the Midlands…

I venture back downstairs and find Willow
making a cup of coffee for us in the kitchen, her yoga music still playing in
the background.

“What’s this?” I gesture towards the stereo.

“Ah-ha. It’s my favourite yoga playlist. This
is “Long Time Sun” by Snatam Kaur
.
Enchanting isn’t it?”

“Wow Wills, her voice is just… exquisite, I’ve
got goose bumps.” We sit in silence, on the high stools at the kitchen island
until the track finishes. “I need to get in on this yoga; I think I’m missing out.
I’ve unpacked by the way.” Taking my first sip of coffee now it’s cooled down
enough. “Oh and I’ve put my toiletries in the bathroom by me, is that okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I should have told you that
yesterday babe. It’s cool; I don’t really use that one. Only if I have
company
—”
She trails off, as we both know what kind of company she’s referring to. I’m
under no illusion as to how often Willow has
company
. She has no
interest in settling down and isn’t searching for ‘The One’, believing if it’s
meant to be you shouldn’t have to search. A devote believer in living life to
the max; what will be will be. She is what we like to call ‘Tri-sexual’; she
will try anything sexual. No preference on gender or race or age. If she likes
what she sees, she goes for it. 

“Speaking of
company
… Please don’t feel
you have to curb your enthusiasm on my behalf. I’m good at making myself scarce,
I promise. I don’t want to upset your insatiable libido!”

Frowning she confesses, “Trust me girl, you do
not
need to be concerned about
my
libido… And yes, you
are
very good
at making yourself scarce—”