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THE TWENTY-FIRST – TWENTY-THIRD
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Thirty Days THE TWENTY-FOURTH
I am standing in Nonna’s kitchen, desperately trying to avoid looking at either the spot where she died or at my mother, who is currently raging in Italian. Despite my heritage, I have never managed to master much beyond the odd holiday phrase, so I really don’t have a clue about what she is saying to me. My dad popped out for a pint of milk, and it was at that point she started grilling me about what I was going to do about Bread. I am a terrible liar, so I came clean and told her my situation, minus the stuff like sleeping with my boss, his psycho brother and the all-round fucked-up-ness that is my life currently. Needless to say, it was like waving a rag at a bull, and I am now standing here waiting for her to calm down. Which doesn’t seem like it is going to happen anytime soon. “Gina, just shut the hell up, will you?” My dad’s normally quiet voice booms across the room, and we both stare at him, silence descending at last. “Stop for a minute and look at what you are doing to ou
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-FIFTH
I must have fallen asleep at some point because I am woken by a pounding on the door. Wrapping my gown around myself, I make my way downstairs to find the postman with a registered letter bearing my name. Odd as no one knows yet that I live here. I make my way upstairs and pop the kettle on before ripping open the envelope. The first thing I take in is the Hudson International letterhead, and I find my heart beating a rapid tattoo. It takes me a while to digest the words, and it is not until I see the cheque enclosed for ten thousand pounds that the penny drops. I am being paid off. The thought sends red-hot fury coursing through my veins, and I start to shake. Of course, in black and white it is all very amicable and spelt out as a corporate responsibility as I was out of my probation period, but I am reading between the lines and I know what is happening here. Before I fully comprehend what I am doing, I find myself donning some clothes and pulling on my duffel coat, heading ou
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-SEVENTH & TWENTY-EIGHTH
I slowly climb out of the darkness, and the first thing I notice is a steady beeping sound. I can feel crisp sheets and an ache in my wrists. My mind flicks back, and I remember the drinking, the singing, the cutting of my wrists. With a sigh, I realise that I survived, and now I am probably going to be in a world of trouble.Taylor! Shit, pieces start coming back to me, and I am sure that I heard Taylor’s voice. My heart starts to hammer, and the steady beep increases in pace until I hear someone enter the room. Efficient, cool fingers touch my wrists, well, the parts that aren’t bandaged up, and I hear quiet murmurings. I try to open my eyes, but nothing seems to be cooperating. A warm, sluggish feeling creeps up my limbs, and then once again the darkness descends.~*~Beep. Beep. Beep. I want to shout at the fucking alarm for waking me up; I don’t have to be at work until seven, so why did I set it so early? I crack my eyes open, expecting to see my bedroom ceiling, but instead, I
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-SEVENTH & TWENTY-EIGHTH pt2
Voices disturb me from my deep slumber, and it takes me a couple of moments to place their familiarity. My mum and dad. I can hear weeping and I keep my eyes closed, not ready to face what I will see.“It is all my fault, Michael,” I hear my mother saying softly. “I told her I blamed her for Mamma’s death. How could I do that? What kind of a mother am I?” I hear my father shushing her and comforting her, and I can imagine in my mind’s eye that he has his arms wrapped around her, his head on hers, an embrace I have seen so many times growing up.“Gina, it is going to be fine. Abby has a big heart and I know she will forgive you eventually, but you need to pull yourself together and be strong for her. She needs you! You are her mother, and you need to start acting like it.”The snuffles slowly subside, and when I think enough time has passed, I slowly open my eyes. “Hey,” I croak.“Abby!” My mother is on her feet, hugging me fiercely, wiping tears from her eyes. She pulls back and looks
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-NINTH
I wake to weak sunlight filtering through the blinds. I am on my side in the foetal position, my body curled around Taylor’s head, our fingers still interlaced. He is snoring softly, and I reach up with my free hand to run my fingers through his hair. The whirl of my thoughts brings me back to Hannah, and I realise what I did was just what Taylor always thought happened to her. Guilt washes over me and tears prick my eyes. “I am so sorry for putting you through this, Taylor,” I whisper softly. Taylor stirs and shifts his body before raising his head to look at me. “Hey,” he says softly. “Hey,” I reply. “You must be really uncomfortable on that chair.” I study Taylor’s face, taking in the dark shadows under his eyes, the pallor in his skin and the fact that he is wearing yesterday’s clothes. “Hmm. Well, it is not going to make my top-ten favourite places in the world to sleep. But I’ll survive.” “Go home, Taylor. Get some sleep, have a shower and eat something other than hospital f
Thirty Days THE TWENTY-NINTH pt2
The afternoon flies by as Taylor and I chat about films and music. The lack of the usual sexual tension between us makes me a bit uneasy, but I shrug it off, not wanting to dwell on the negative connotations that are attempting to take root in my mind. I ask him why he is not at work, and when he tells me it is the joy of owning your own company that you can take time off when you want, I find myself smirking at him. “Well, if I do that, the buns don’t get baked!” I joke. But in all seriousness, I know I need to get back to the shop; otherwise, Bea and Andreas will be left with a whole lot of orders that can’t be filled, and that would be terrible for business. Taylor seems to hear the truth in my words, and I can see him struggling as he turns something over in his mind. “Um, I spoke to Dr Grohl,” Taylor says, and I feel a small burst of anger at the thought of the two of them discussing things behind my back, which I do my best to stamp down. “You know he won’t release you unless
Thirty Days THE THIRTIETH
The night was long and tortuous, filled with random dreams that made no sense. When dawn finally arrives, I remove my bandages and hop in the shower, soaping my hair and body in an effort to remove the delightful hospital aroma that I seem to have acquired. I find some clothes in the locker next to my bed and notice that they are the clothes Taylor bought me. I feel uneasy about putting them on, but given my lack of options, I slip them on anyway. The black skinny jeans that had previously hugged my figure now hang loosely off my hips, and the grey silk T-shirt feels two sizes too large. The grey cardigan I loved swamps my figure even when cinched in with the belt. At least the boots still fit. I examine my face in the mirror properly for the first time, and I am astounded by how much weight I have lost. My cheeks are almost gaunt, and my hair, while never having been my crowning glory, has a lacklustre sheen. Seriously, I look like crap. I distract myself by flicking through a pil
Thirty Days EPILOGUE
Before those cups even hit the floor, Taylor was already turning around and walking back out of my room. After two hours it became clear that he wouldn’t be returning. I tried calling, but he didn’t pick up any of my calls or my voicemails. I sat there in a complete state of shock. Pregnant at twenty-one was not part of my plan. Attempted suicide was not part of my plan. Taylor walking out on me again was not part of my plan. Yet here I was dealing with all three. So as you can imagine, there was no chance of going home. Instead, David booked me straight into the hospital’s mental health clinic for the next week. I guess these days ‘psychiatric ward’ is probably not the politically correct term, or maybe this is just what posh people like to call being nuts. Anyway, I was ferried along to another building in the hospital’s vast grounds, where I was allocated a room that was the size of a shoebox. Don’t get me wrong. Everything was immaculate and comfortable, but there was zero privac
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