Anywhere

"It's fine, this is just a bump," I repeat when I'm looking in the mirror. I look like hell, so I advert my eyes and undress... but once I'm naked in front of the mirror, I can't stop myself from looking up again.

I don’t like what I see.

I haven’t felt like this since I was a teenager, but this time I hyper-focus on every little defect until I want to throw myself out the window.

My hair is definitely my best feature and saving grace. Is thick, long and blonde. And very soft, shiny and healthy since I spend a fortune taking care of it. I love my hair very much… but other than that, I’m whatever.

No, I was whatever when I was younger. Now I’m below whatever.

I have the most basic of features. Average nose, average brown eyes, average lips. And my body is nothing to write home about either. I’m naturally thin, but that does not mean I have a good body. I have a soft belly, jiggly arms and my boobs are not as perky as they used to be.

I think I've definitely let myself go. I mean... I've never been perfect to begin with, but clearly something about me is no longer doing it for Farrow. He must be so sick of me…

I shake my head at my own thoughts and get my ass inside the shower to stop torturing myself. Everyone gets older. And beauty is not forever. I need to be kinder to myself, even if it’s proving to be difficult right now.

I take a lot longer than usual in the shower and I put on my usual pajamas before returning to bed. This time, Farrow is just looking at the ceiling and when he feels me approaching, he turns his head to look at me.

I've never felt this detached from him. I find myself hoping he stays silent.

➿➿➿➿

Last night was the worst night I've ever spent with Farrow. It was so fucking miserable, I couldn't sleep at all.

And when the morning comes and his alarm wakes him up, I feel like absolute garbage in every way possible.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, sitting up and turning the alarm off.

Like fucking shit.

"So-so," I mumble, "You?"

"I couldn't sleep that much. I was thinking too much," he says and sighs before looking at me, "It's unfair to you and I’m sorry... but I couldn't take her off my mind."

Fuck my fucking life, seriously. I close my eyes again and grab a pillow to cover my face.

"I'm so sorry, Sky. I have to go to work and I'll see her there, so maybe I'll realize for sure if we have to take that break or not," he mutters in a voice I don't fucking recognize and gets up, filling me with an anxiety I've never felt before.

I want to beg him not to go. Not to see her. Not to decide to take that break. I don't want to, I'm fucking scared.

"My dad's birthday dinner is tonight," I remind him, pushing the pillow away, "How about we pretend everything is fine just for tonight and we have that final conversation tomorrow?"

"Okay, yeah, that sounds good," he says, walking to the closet, "I'll be there at six something."

"Thanks," I murmur, looking to the wall for a few seconds, "Can you drive Bobbie to school? Or should I do it?"

"I'lll do it, don't worry. You can keep sleeping," he says. I instantly grab the blankets to cover my head. I want to disappear, "See you later, Sky. Bye."

"Bye," I manage to whisper, but as soon as the door closes behind him I lose it again. This is not looking good for me at all.

He couldn't stop thinking about this fucking random girl all night? What the fuck is going on? What's so special about her?

I cry and cry and cry so hard, I don't even notice when I fall asleep, but by the time I wake up again, it's two PM.

Usually I would have lunch with Farrow around this hour, but he hasn't texted me at all. I guess he's too busy with his new girl.

I take a shower just to wake me up and get refreshed, then I get ready for my dad’s birthday dinner.

For the first time in forever, I don’t really want to see my family. Not because of them specifically, but because I know at least one of them is going to notice something weird going on and then all of them are going to push and push until they find out what’s wrong. That’s how they are, pushy and annoying. But supportive.

“Here we go,” I mutter to myself before getting out of the car to walk inside my childhood home. I force a smile on my face and I run to my dad, sitting on the couch by himself, "Happy birthday!"

“Holy crap,” he lets out when I basically attack him and jump on him, but he starts laughing and he hugs me back, “You came at me like a missile.”

“I love you, old man,” I say, still hugging him as tight as I can, “Fifty two is a big deal.”

“I’m in my prime, ladybug,” he says and gives me a big smile. I take a seat next to him to stop crushing him and I talk to him for a while, trying very hard not to show even a little bit of how I really feel right now, “What's up with Farrow? I called him earlier, he didn’t pick up.”

“He just opened the new center yesterday, remember? He’s been super busy,” I say, making my dad scoff as if he doesn't think that's enough excuse to ignore his calls. But, thankfully, my phone starts ringing, saving me from that conversation. It’s Bobbie, “What’s going on?”

She never calls me at this hour. Something must be wrong.