“Good point,” I murmur as Sophie heads for the kitchen. I press the return key a few times in my document, then type, ‘Note: Make sure heroine is strong, confident, and kickass. No helpless, pathetic women.’ I scroll back up to my opening paragraph, then freeze with my hands over the keyboard. A light comes on in my brain, blinding me with sudden clarity.
That’s me, I realise. That helpless, pathetic woman is ME. At school, I was a nobody—and then I became Matt’s Girlfriend. When we’re at a large gathering of his extended family, I’m Matt’s Girlfriend. At varsity, I’m Matt’s Girlfriend. I don’t know who I am without him! I’m still that swooning girl who can’t believe how lucky she is that Mr Popularity picked her. That swooning girl who can’t do anything without his approval. I’m not strong or confident or kickass. I’m the definition of a doormat. And if Matt has his way, I always will be.
Just like that, my mind is made up: Matt and I are over.
I wake up on Thursday morning even more certain of my decision. I wait for the sick feeling while I’m eating my breakfast, and it’s definitely there, hiding somewhere beneath the muesli in my stomach, but something else is beating it down.
Excitement. I’m going to be free!
I park outside Matt’s parents’ house and press the button next to the gate. It opens a moment later without anyone speaking through the intercom to find out who’s outside. Matt already knows it’s me. I sent him a message this time so I’d be certain he’s home.
He greets me at the front door with a quick kiss, whispers, “I’ll be done in a minute,” into my ear, then raises his cell phone to his ear to continue a conversation that obviously started before I got here.
I hang my car keys on a hook by the door, wander through to the kitchen, and sit down at the table. I assume no one else is here, since Matt’s parents are back at work and Malcolm doesn’t live here anymore. My left knee bounces up and down as I try to stamp my nervousness down so hard I won’t be able to feel it anymore. It’s just Matt. This is just a conversation. You’re just … ending a two-year relationship with your possessive and controlling boyfriend.
DON’T. FREAK. OUT.
I breathe in deeply and stare at the fridge. A neat arrangement of family photographs is stuck below a rectangular chalkboard Matt’s mom writes reminders on.
Dentist 12 Feb 15:30
Q20
Hannah’s sister-in-law in Westville
Below the last note is a phone number, and, like the crazy stalker I am, I whip out my phone and snap a picture of it. Because that’s where Aiden’s staying, and who knows if I might want to call him before he leaves tomorrow. The only contact we’ve had since we yelled at each other outside uShaka Marine World was a glance at Grandpa’s memorial, so it might be nice to have an actual chat. Apologise, maybe admit that he was right, and say goodbye. I don’t expect anything more than that, of course, but it would be nice if we could at least part as—
“Sorry, babe.” Matt strides into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “Some people can just talk and talk and talk. You want something to drink?”
“Uh, no thanks.”
He helps himself to a bright blue sports drink before perching on the edge of the table beside me. “So I thought we could go to Gateway and watch that new Tom Cruise movie. I’ve been waiting forever for it, and it’s finally here.”
“Actually—” I swallow “—I need to talk to you.” I stand up and put a little distance between us. “I don’t think … you and I are working.”
His forehead scrunches up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean …” Just say it, just say it, just say it. “I’m breaking up with you.”
He stares at me for several moments, and I can see the words aren’t making sense to him. They’re not the kind of words that have any place inside his perfectly controlled world. He takes a swig of his blue drink, then starts laughing. “Come on, Sarah. Who put this silly idea in your head? Was it Adam and Livi? I know they never liked me that much.”
Stand firm. Be brave. “Can you please take me seriously for a change? I mean what I’m saying, Matt. This isn’t just a ‘silly idea’ I came up with while hanging out with my friends.”
“You mean what you’re saying,” he repeats.
“Yes.”
He slowly screws the cap back onto his drink. “You’re breaking up with me.”
“Yes.”
“You are breaking up with me?”
“Yes!” How many times do I have to say this before he’ll get it?
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me just after Grandpa died.”
“Oh, don’t even try that,” I say. “This has nothing to do with Grandpa. This is about you and me and the fact that we are not good together anymore. I’m not sure if we ever were.”
“Oh, I see.” Matt nods. “I get it. This is about Aiden, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s—”
“Some other guy shows an interest in you, and suddenly I’m not good enough for you anymore.”
“No, this is not about Aiden. This is about—”
“Seriously, Sarah? You really want to leave me to go chasing after someone you can never have?”
Despite the fact that this doesn’t have anything to do with Aiden, I raise my chin and say, “Who says I can’t have him?”
Matt’s hand clenches around the plastic bottle as his mouth twists into a mean smile. “Are you really so stupid, Sarah? Do you honestly not know?”
That look. I know that look. It’s the look Matt gets when he’s about to deliver a crushing blow. And even though I know he’s about to break me with words, I whisper my question anyway. “Know what?”
That twisted grin twists a little further. “He’s engaged.”
***
Just like that, I’m transported back to that night. The night before I left to visit Julia. My suitcase is almost packed, I’m in the bathroom decanting shampoo and conditioner into little bottles, and Matt is chilling in my bedroom. I fill my clear plastic toiletry bag with all the right sized bottles, then zip it up and take it back to my room. My large suitcase and my carry-on suitcase are sitting side by side on the floor with their lids open. My excitement mounts each time I look at them.
This is really happening!
I add my mini toiletries to the smaller suitcase as Matt says, “What’s this?” He’s lying on my bed examining my laptop screen. “‘Start your novel in a week,’” he reads out, then looks over at me. “Why are you looking up creative writing courses?”
Butterflies flit nervously around my stomach. I haven’t shared my crazy dream with anyone yet, but I’m so excited about it, I have to say something. I take a deep breath and twist my hands together. “Well, you know how I write a lot in my spare time. And I was thinking I want to do more with that. Like actually … write a whole novel. I think I could do that. So I was looking up courses.”
“But this is some academy in the UK,” Matt says with a frown.
“Well, yeah, I know, but—”
“And you happen to be studying in South Africa.”
“Yes, but …” I close my eyes and groan. “You know I’m not actually enjoying the science stuff. I love writing stories, so—”
“Sarah, you can’t just give up after one year.” Matt pushes himself up so he’s sitting. “You just need to change your attitude towards your degree, and then you’ll start enjoying it.
“Well …” I hate arguing with him, but he needs to know how I really feel. “I’m not so sure about that. Stories are what I love. And I know that course is in the UK, and I haven’t worked out anything about money or study visas or anything, but there are others. All over the world. And lots of them are distance learning ones. So I could be anywhere. So I was thinking, I could do kind of like a gap year thing. Do some travelling and writing, and some working too, of course, and maybe by the end of the year I’ll have finished a book. And maybe it’ll be good enough to be published. I co
uld be a real author!”
“Sarah.” Matt stands up and puts his hand on my arm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, listen to yourself. Maybe you’ll finish a book by the end of the year? Maybe it’ll be good enough to be published? What kind of plan is that?”
“Well …”
“You and I already have a plan, remember? We’re at the same university, we’ve each got our degrees picked out, we work hard, and we’re both going to be successful in our chosen areas.”
“But … maybe that’s … your plan,” I say quietly. “Not mine.”
Matt’s eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me? I hope you’re not suggesting that I forced you into anything, because you were the one who decided to follow me.”
Yeah, after you suggested it would be a good idea. I’m not brave enough to say that out loud, though. I feel like this conversation got away from me somehow. It wasn’t supposed to go like this when I finally told someone that I might have figured out what I want to do with my life.
“I just think it’s a major risk to take when you don’t even know if you’re any good. It’s not like you ever let anyone read this stuff you write.” He walks to the shelf with all my notebooks. My most recent one is already packed at the bottom of my carry-on suitcase, but all the others are lined up on the shelf my family and friends have always known not to touch. “In fact, why don’t we settle this right now.” Matt slides a notebook from my collection. “I’ll tell you if it’s worth the risk.”
“Hey! No!” I try to take it from him, but he holds it out of my reach. “Put that back, Matt, it’s—”
“Why? Are you hiding something from me?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why don’t you want me reading it?” He stands on my bed so I have even less hope of reaching the notebook. I try to think of how to explain that my writing is mine. It’s private. It isn’t ready for anyone else’s eyes. But he’ll never understand, and he’s already reading it anyway, so what’s the point? I bite my lip and cross my arms. I pace to the desk and back.
After a minute or so that feels more like an eternity, Matt jumps down from the bed and snaps the notebook shut. He hesitates, then delivers the words he knows will crush me. The words that will put me back in my place. “I’m sorry, Sarah. You should stick with science.” He gives me the kind of smile people give when they feel sorry for someone. And I almost believe him. I almost believe that he does feel sorry for me. But there’s something twisted about that smile. Something that isn’t right.
My broken heart swells up with anger, and I’m suddenly braver than I’ve felt in a long time. “That is a lie. You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to go off on my own adventure without you. I could be famous one day, and you’d be left in the background, and that is the last place you—”
“Famous? Really?” Matt laughs loudly. “For that to happen, you’d have to actually be good. And this?” He waves the notebook in front of my face. “This is trash. This is never going to be published.”
“Shut up!” I shout. “You don’t have a freaking clue what’s good and what isn’t. You don’t read. You don’t know anything about—”
He throws the book at me, and even though I raise my arm, the sharp corner hits my chin. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” He leans over me and pauses there, his eyes trained on my face. Probably waiting to make sure I don’t dare say another word. “This discussion is over,” he says. “Have a nice holiday.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me shaking in my own bedroom, wondering what the hell just happened and whether my family heard any of it over the movie they’re watching in the lounge. I go to bed soon after that, burying my head beneath the duvet so no one can hear me crying. And then, because I’m obviously in complete denial, I keep my head buried for the entirety of my holiday overseas, doing my best to put the whole thing out of my mind.
***
I blink, bringing myself back to the present. Back to that mean, twisted smile and those words hanging between us.
He’s engaged.
“That’s right,” Matt continues, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Didn’t you know? Her name is Kelly. Lovely girl.”
Matt thinks he’s won. He thinks he’s broken me. But he doesn’t know that this was never about Aiden. It’s all about him. So I push those words aside to think about later and focus instead on the guy standing in front of me.
“Stop it,” I say, quietly but firmly. “Stop trying to hurt me. Stop trying to control me. This relationship is over, and I am not yours to be controlled.”
“YES YOU ARE!” Matt flings his bottle across the room. It strikes the sink and blue liquid explodes from the top, splattering the wall and the clean dishes standing in the drying rack. “This is not how we end. You do not break up with me.”
“News flash!” I yell at him. “It’s already happened!” And before he can say or do anything else, I’m out of the room. I grab my keys from the hook by the front door, press the remote on whoever’s keys are still hanging there, and run out of the house. My hands are shaking so badly I almost drop my keys on the sidewalk, but I manage to get into the car and pull onto the road without stalling.
Tears drip down my cheeks as I drive back home, which is really confusing, because what I’m feeling above all else is exhilaration. It must be the shock of the whole thing. The shock of finally standing up to Matt. The shock of reliving that fight and the book being thrown in my face—which, now that I think about it, he never even apologised for! What a jerk!
A jerk who’ll never be able to influence you again, a quiet voice reminds me. A snotty-sounding laugh escapes my lips, and it sounds so ridiculous it makes me laugh even harder. And now I’m crying and laughing and sniffing and I really hope no one pulls up next to me when I get to a traffic light, because I probably look like I need to be escorted to a mental health institution pronto.
It’s only after I’ve been sitting in my car in my parents’ driveway for about five minutes forcing myself to do some slow breathing that I remember what Matt said about Aiden.
He’s engaged.
My mind rejected the words the instant I heard them, but the longer I think about it, the more sense it makes. Aiden told me he used to be close to his sister, but not anymore. When Elize mentioned Emily’s wedding, Aiden and Emily exchanged a glance that certainly meant something. Then Aiden missed a call from someone—a female someone—and his mother wanted him to return the call, but Emily didn’t. So all of that could mean that Aiden is engaged to a girl who, for whatever reason, his sister doesn’t like.
But if he’s engaged to someone, why did he kiss me at the airport?
Maybe he’s having second thoughts about his wedding. Maybe that’s why he didn’t answer when she called.
But why didn’t he say anything to me about her? How dare he get upset with me for not mentioning my boyfriend when he neglected to mention his fiancée? He’s engaged, for crying in a bucket—or, in this case, a car. How did he manage not to bring that up even once during our many hours of talking? And how dare he challenge me about not being brave when he didn’t even have the guts to mention his upcoming wedding?
Oh, man, I am so over boys right now.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and find the picture with Aiden’s aunt’s phone number. I memorise the numbers, then furiously tap them into my phone’s keyboard and press ‘Call.’ It takes about three rings before I realise I’m about to talk to a stranger on the phone—one of my Big Fears in Life. But I just managed to break up with my boyfriend who turned out to have scary anger issues, so I can DO THIS.
A woman answers the phone. “Hello?”
I clear my throat. “Um, hi, may I please speak to Aiden?”
“Uh, yes. Who is this?”
“Sarah.”
“Hold on a minute, Sarah.”
I hear muffled noises in the background, then Aiden’s voice. “Hey, Sarah?”
“Hi.”
“I was just trying to figure out how I should go about getting your phone number. I’ve been wanting to—”
“Are you engaged?”
Pause. “What?”
“Engaged. You know? Here comes the bride and all that? Or, in this case, here comes Kelly.”
Another pause. “You know about Kelly?”
“Yes.”
“Well then you should also know that—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, proud of myself for managing to keep the wobble out of my voice, despite the fact that I’m almost in tears again. “If you had a right to get mad about me not mentioning Matt, then don’t I have a right to get mad about you not mentioning her?”
“It isn’t like that, Sarah. Kelly and I—”
“No. I don’t believe you let me explain why I didn’t mention Matt to you on the plane, so you don’t need to do any explaining either.”
“Sarah—”
“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”
“Uh, yeah. I—”
“Well have a nice flight.” And I end the call.
“So, uh, I’m going to my flat in Pietermaritzburg tomorrow,” I announce at dinner on Thursday evening.
“Mmm.” Dad catches a pea that fell from his fork and adds it to his mouth. “Okay.”
Mom looks up and frowns, though. “But varsity doesn’t start for another four weeks.”
“Oh yes.” Dad adds his frown to Mom’s. “What do you need to go to Pietermaritzburg for?”
“Really? Is it so impossible to imagine that after living there for a year I might have formed some kind of life there? You know, friends and stuff? And do you still need to interrogate me about my plans when I’m a year out of school now?”
The Trouble with Flying Page 14