The Places I've Cried in Public

by Holly Bourne

  If I close my eyes now, on this pavement decorated with last night’s vomit, I can still see the precise moment I watched Alfie’s heart break.

  His eyebrows drew up for a second before the reality hit. Then his face spasmed into grief.

  I squeezed Reese’s arm, trying to stop him, though it was too late and I had no idea what to say.

  “Amelie?” Alfie’s voice could hardly be heard over the band. “What’s going on?”

  My mouth dropped open. Words completely and utterly fled from me.

  Finally I managed, “I was going to tell you.”

  I felt Reese’s grip tighten on my waist.

  “Hang on,” he said. “You’ve been up here all day and you’ve not told your ex that you’re with someone else?”

  Now two boys were hurt. Now two boys were mad at me. My stomach sloshed into a pool of nerves. I wanted to cry – even though I was the baddie here, I was the one causing all the pain with my cowardice and confusion.

  “I was waiting for a good time,” I tried to explain to both of them. Then I turned to him. “Reese, I didn’t know you were coming.”

  He actually snarled in response. I never thought people snarled in real life, but he did. “Just as well I did.” His voice was colder than liquid nitrogen. “God knows what sort of ‘good time’ you’d be having if I hadn’t surprised my supposed girlfriend.”

  The word supposed hit me like a bullet. It was a warning. He knew as much, and I received it as much. I felt so sick. I felt the need – the desperate need – to make it all okay again. But how?

  How?

  And Alfie Alfie Alfie, who seemed stuck to the floor.

  “I didn’t…” I started to say. Not sure which boy I was talking to. “I wasn’t…”

  “I’m going,” Alfie said. He was there one moment, and then he was gone, his mad hair bouncing through the crowd. I watched him leave and couldn’t even function because I felt so guilty. It took a lot of strength to turn back to Reese, and his face was quite the picture too.

  “What the actual fuck, Amelie. I can’t believe you’ve not told him.”

  I shook my head slowly. “I was going to. We’re broken up anyway.”

  “It didn’t look that way.”

  His eyes had gone cold. God, I hated it when his eyes went cold – how they’d glaze over like rice pudding that gets a skin if you leave it too long.

  “I was about to tell him.” I tugged at Reese’s shirt, trying to get close to him, but he pushed me off sharply. “I was! I was about to, then I got called up onstage.”

  “Well you’re never one to let the opportunity to show off pass, are you?”

  My mouth fell open again.

  “What?”

  “I’m just saying, for someone who supposedly has stage fright, you spend a lot of your time ensuring you’re the one onstage, getting all the attention.”

  “Is that what you really think of me?”

  He stuck out his bottom lip, refusing to retract the insult.

  “I’m sorry,” I started begging. “Reese. I’m so, so sorry. I’m so happy you’re here. I can’t even tell you how it felt when I saw you in the crowd.”

  He blinked, not dislodging the rice pudding skin. Panic crawled in. The band finished. Everyone started clapping and calling for more.

  “Reese!” I flung myself at his chest and he smelled slightly, of travelling and being on the train too long. I sensed that he wanted me to praise him, so I obliged, muttering sweet compliments into his neck. “No one’s ever surprised me like this. It’s so romantic. Alfie is nothing, nothing. I promise. I was just worried about his feelings. I mean, I have a heart. You wouldn’t love me if I didn’t have a heart. But he’s the past. You’re my future. You’re my forever. And you’re here and it’s amazing and I can’t stand you being mad at me. Please, Reese. Please.”

  The encore finished by the time he managed to stiffly pat my back.

  “You’re really glad I came?” he asked. “Your face when you saw me – it looked more like shock.”

  “I was shocked,” I admitted, relief soaking through me that I’d got through to him. “It was the last thing I was expecting. But it was a good shock.”

  He held me at arm’s length, and the coldness of his eyes melted away. The sides of them crinkled in a smile. He was back. Thank god, he was back. I still had Alfie to sort out, and a huge amount of mess to clear up, and I knew that I’d played it all so very wrong, but at least Reese was back.

  Or, well, I thought he was, until Jessa turned up.

  “Amelie, what the actual hell is going on?” She appeared at my side, clutching a plastic cup of water. “Alfie’s outside in a right state.” Then she clocked Reese and how I clutched at his arm. “Who the shit are you?”

  “This is my boyfriend, Reese,” I said. “He’s come up to surprise me.”

  “Your boyfriend?” Jessa muttered almost to herself as she digested it. Then she shook her head and her face hardened. “Well, congratulations, Ammy, on breaking Alfie’s heart. Again,” she added.

  “I can explain—”

  “Explain to him, not me. He’s the one crying outside on the pavement.”

  Alfie was crying? That knowledge hit me like multiple tons of bricks. My already liquid stomach churned into a whirlpool.

  Maybe, in time, I’ll be able to think about how my decision in this next moment made what happened next happen next. Maybe if I’d been colder – more like you – and just shrugged and thought, Well, Alfie needs to get over it, then I could’ve stopped it. I wouldn’t have ended up sobbing uncontrollably on a shower floor. I would’ve been able to sit down the next few days without wincing. I wouldn’t have bled into my knickers for days, having to wear a sanitary pad, but not in its usual position.

  But I’m not cold, I’m not like you. I couldn’t handle that I’d made Alfie cry. So I turned to you and I set the wheels in motion.

  “I need to go after him,” I said.

  “Are you joking?”

  “Five minutes.”

  And, before I could let Reese scare me out of it, I pushed through the applauding crowd and ran out into the cold night air.

  Alfie was sat maybe ten metres away from the club, against the wall, in this very spot. His long legs were sprawled outwards, his head falling down towards them. His body shook with tears. I’d made him cry in public. A boy. How much do you have to really hurt a boy for him to shed all societal expectations and cry in front of people? That’s how much I hurt Alfie. Seeing him like that made me start crying too – the sort of tears that stream silently from your eyes like a river.

  “Alfie?”

  He flinched, but didn’t look up. He sniffed hard and rubbed his face with his arm.

  “Alfie, I’m so, so sorry.”

  I couldn’t have meant it more – never have I spoken a truer sentence. I started crying harder than him, which was inappropriate and wrong, considering it was all my damned fault. I sat down next to him, and he still didn’t look up. We both cried for a minute or two together in an almost companionable, snuffly silence.

  I wonder if the salt from our tears is still in the concrete, crystallized beneath my feet? If there are traces of it remaining underneath my shoes?

  I found my crying hit a new peak, as crying can do sometimes. When the grief hits so hard that sobbing takes on a realm of its own. The pain in my stomach was so raw, the reality of everything so heartbreaking, that I let out this weird howl and demolished myself there on the pavement. And Alfie, always with a heart so big, always thinking about others before himself, saw me combust, and put his own pain aside to comfort me.

  “There there,” he whispered, putting his arm around me as I juddered and screeched and howled and generally cried in the ugliest possible way. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whimpered, over and over, meaning each and every single apology. “I’m so sorry. Honestly, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Alfie, I hate this. I’m sorry. I ha
ve to tell you how sorry I am. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Another wave of pain hit and he hugged me so tight and so hard and I thought, This is the last time you’ll ever hold Alfie this close, and that’s all your fault, and that led me to cry further.

  His chest shook and my head shook on it. I felt my hair dampen with the tracks of his tears. Then he gently pushed me away.

  “Who’s that guy, Ammy?” he asked, wiping his nose. “What’s going on?”

  “He’s…he’s…I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “Do you…do you love him?”

  I wish he’d asked a different question – one which was less “yes” or “no”. One that would paint a fuller, kinder picture of all my conflicting emotions. But Alfie had just flat-out asked, trapping me into a simpler, more painful truth.

  More tears shot out of my eyes, as I nodded, ruining us for ever.

  “For fuck’s sake, Ammy. You’ve only been gone a few months.”

  “I know, I… It’s all been so confusing—”

  Alfie cut me off, interrupting me for the first time. “Did I mean nothing to you? That you’re able to get over me that quickly?”

  “I…I…”

  “What about our pact? What about Manchester?” His anger stopped his tears, while mine only increased. He shook his head. “I’m so stupid. Shall I tell you how I thought tonight would go? I was going to tell you that I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you since you left, that I’ve been too scared to message you, but that, actually, if we could be alone, we could talk about what a stupid idea this whole break was.” He shoved his hands into his hair, pulling it up on end. “I was going to see if you wanted to get back together. I thought we could travel to each other at weekends… God, and this whole time…you’re with someone else? Some guy who wears a FUCKING TRILBY?”

  I shook my head, I cried harder. “I’m so confused, I don’t know what I feel, I just… I’m sorry, Alfie. Really.”

  He put up his hand, stopping me from detailing my feelings. “No, I’m sorry. You’re not who I thought you were at all. We don’t have what I thought we had. How could we? When you’ve just…just…”

  He stumbled to his feet and I stumbled up with him, desperate to reach out and grab his arm, desperate to make the pain stop. I watched him come to terms with What Actually Happened, replacing his story of How He Wanted It To Go. I sometimes think maybe all the tears we cry are due to this huge gap between the how-we-think-things-should-go and what-life-actually-gives-you. Alfie wiped his nose on his T-shirt.

  “I hope you’re very happy together,” he said, hollowly. “Sorry if I caused a scene.”

  He turned and walked away into the night, and my arm reached out, wanting so much to call him back. But for what? I was with Reese. I had chosen him. I’d chosen being whisked off my feet rather than the steady ground beneath them. I didn’t want to mess with Alfie’s head with all my selfish declarations of compartmentalized hearts. He deserved someone whose heart was fully his.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered out into the night, where it crystallized on my breath and vanished among the Christmas lights. I guess there was no way I wasn’t going to break Alfie’s heart that night. There was no way I could’ve spared him the hurt of me choosing Reese, of me breaking our pact, erasing the future we’d planned together. I really did feel like my heart was breaking, though, which didn’t make sense because the boy I supposedly loved was waiting for me inside the nightclub. I wiped under my eyes, took a few calming breaths, and turned to make my way back inside.

  I showed my stamped hand to Jonesy, who nodded me through, smiling. The darkness hid most of my crying face. It was calmer now the band had finished. I stood on my tiptoes, but couldn’t see Reese anywhere.

  The panic re-sprouted and my priorities shifted back to him. Where had he gone? Why had he gone? Surely he must understand that I had to follow Alfie?

  I spotted the top of Jessa’s head at the bar and I tapped her on the shoulder. Her face soured when she saw it was me.

  “How’s Alfie?” She didn’t ask after me, though it was clear I was upset too.

  “Not good,” I admitted. “I tried. But there’s not much I could say.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve hurt him bad.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s happened to you, Ams? Who’s that guy?”

  “Have you seen him?” I asked desperately. “Where has he gone?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I’ve seen him. He was a complete dick to me and then he left.”

  Reese had left? The panic spread through me like a superbug.

  “Where did he go?” I found myself grabbing her arm, and she looked down at it like I’d gone mad.

  “He said he couldn’t be arsed with this and that he was going home.”

  “He’s going HOME?!” Oh god, this was bad. This was going to be so bad. I’d ruined it all. I was so stupid and ungrateful and he’d come all this way and I’d just run after some other boy.

  I now felt sick at the thought of losing him, especially when I’d just full-on sacrificed my love for Alfie for him. That couldn’t be for nothing. It couldn’t, it couldn’t.

  Jessa lowered her voice. “Ams, he called you a bitch.” “What?”

  “A bitch. He called you one.”

  “He wouldn’t.” My brain rejected it the moment she said it. No. No, no, no. He wouldn’t do that. That made no sense. Reese loved me. He’d come all this way.

  Jessa leaned back. “You saying I’m lying?”

  “I don’t have time for this. I have to go!”

  “What the hell, Amelie? What’s going on? He called you a bitch, to my face. And what? You’re going to chase after him? I know I’ve only just met the guy, but why would I lie to you?”

  “He won’t have called me that.”

  “AMELIE, HE CALLED YOU A FUCKING BITCH!”

  I kept shaking my head. “Well, I am one, aren’t I?”

  “Are you crazy?! You’re not a bitch. You’re being right weird today, but you can’t let him speak about you like that. Amelie? Amelie! Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got to find him.”

  “No!” Jessa said.

  I fled through the crowd, pushing my way out. I felt so sick, and the only way to feel better was to get to Reese, to make it right, to apologize, to smooth things over. I can’t explain why this seemed so very important, but it did. It felt like life or death. It felt like my only purpose for existing. Reese was my only purpose for existing. I was obsessed with him, addicted to him, addicted to how it felt when he loved me, even if it wasn’t all the time.

  I burst out into the cold air again, stomping through the puddles of Alfie’s tears.

  “AMS,” Jessa called after me, running after me. I stormed ahead, making her run to catch up. I had to get to the station. I had to stop him. I’m not sure why, but I had to. “Come back to mine,” she pleaded. “We’ll talk about everything. Alfie, this Reese guy, moving down south. Please. Come on.”

  “I don’t want to talk, I just need to find him.”

  “BUT HE’S CLEARLY A DICK!” she shouted, grabbing me to try and grind me to a halt.

  This, I couldn’t handle. For some reason I still don’t understand, disliking Reese was a deal-breaker. I’d lost Hannah over it, I’d lost Jack, and now I was about to lose Jessa because – I don’t know why, please explain to me why – I could not be around anyone who didn’t like the boy I loved.

  “Fuck off,” I shouted, although I had never, ever, told anyone to fuck off in my whole life. I shook her off and broke into a run towards Reese, wherever he’d gone.

  I didn’t have time to worry about Jessa hating me, I didn’t have space to feel guilty about Alfie any more. All I cared about was finding Reese, and making it okay. I hurtled towards Sheffield train station, looking out for his hat. Self-hatred pulsed through me with every step I took.

  I’m a terrible person. I ruined everything. No wonder he acts as if he doesn’t li
ke me sometimes, I don’t like me either. I hurt people. I’m selfish and terrible and crazy, and I can’t believe he came all this way and I treated him like that.

  I spotted him by the water fountain just outside the train station, and almost collided with a lamp post.

  “Reese!” I called.

  He was sat on a bench, looking at his phone, acting like he didn’t have a care in the universe. He didn’t reply or even look up.

  “REESE!”

  Still no reaction. I walked over, out of breath, my stomach hurting from stress, my heart banging too hard from the hurt and unknowing.

  “Reese.”

  I stood over him, but he still refused to look up as he scrolled through some music blog. I sat next to him on the bench and he didn’t even flinch. I could’ve been a ghost.

  “Reese.” I started crying again, shuffling closer, wanting so much for him to notice me. But he refused. He scrolled and scrolled, he shrugged off my advances, he went back to his phone.

  It’s such a simple torture – the silent treatment. As basic as tripping someone over or pulling their chair out before they sit down. And yet it’s so very effective. When someone has the willpower to pretend you’re not there, it nullifies you. How do you fight against that humiliation?

  “REESE!” I screamed, and a cluster of pigeons flapped away in anguish. My voice echoed around the steel of the water fountain, my tears became sobs once more.

  Finally, he looked up.

  “What?” The disgust on his face could sour milk.

  “Reese, I’m sorry. Where did you go? What’s going on?” He shrugged and returned to his phone.

  No.

  I couldn’t bear it. I’d only just got him away from his phone. I reached out, grabbing it from his hands like an actual crazy person.

  “What the fuck, Amelie?”

  “TALK TO ME!” I screamed. “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?”

  “Are you done?” he asked, totally unmoved. If anything, he sounded…bored.