Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
I boarded the Aer Lingus flight from Dublin to Gatwick at six in the morning.
My tears eventually dried up after crying the entire car journey.
I was told there was space on the first flight out, but I had a three-hour wait in the airport.
I sat in the twenty-four-hour McDonald’s with the shittiest tasteless cup of coffee, staring into space in shock.
I switched my phone off after receiving fifty-nine missed calls from John and countless text messages pleading with me to tell him where I was.
He was worried about me, apparently. It would have been laughable, if it wasn’t so tragic.
Jane must have caved and told him what had happened because the frantic texts became apologetic all of a sudden. It was at that point I switched the phone off, unable to deal with any more bullshit. I was exhausted, yet I knew sleep would never come.
A devastation like never before consumed me. Never had I allowed a man to get inside my skin like John had. I’d deliberately kept people away so they couldn’t hurt me. I’d seen first-hand what ‘true love’ had done to others. I’d been determined not to let that happen to me.
And yet there I was, my life in a fucking mess.
And all my own doing. I pushed my head into my hand, willing the tears not to start again.
The shame and the stupidity hurt badly enough but nowhere near as much as the gaping open wound John Kelly had left.
It was this bad after only a few hours. How the hell could I go on without him?
For months he had consumed my every thought, my every waking minute and most of my dreams too.
I had loved him like I never thought possible to love anyone.
I was convinced he felt the same. I was so complete in his company, so safe, so loved, and at home.
His arms had been my home for the last five months, despite being so far from the places I was used to.
When I eventually boarded the plane, I sank into my window seat. I decided if anyone made small talk, I’d give them the whole sordid story, just to get them to shut up. My foul mood must have radiated from me. The woman who took the aisle seat next to me nodded and immediately looked the other way.
Betsy was waiting for me at Gatwick, on the third floor of the short-stay car park.
I fell into her and cried yet again, massive hopeless wailing sobs of despair.
Each time I thought I had nothing left, I was proved wrong.
At least I didn’t look out of place crying in an airport car park.
I could have been sending off my fiancé to Afghanistan, or waving my sister off, back to Australia.
When I could manage it, I turned the ignition and drove the familiar route out of Gatwick and back down the M25.
There was no need for satnav, I’d made this trip countless times in the previous few months.
I drove in silence, flashbacks of the day before haunted me.
I replayed that moment in the cubicle over and over again.
If only I hadn’t heard, I would still be there lying in his arms in blissful ignorance.
I’m not sure what was worse, living a lie or living without him.
There was absolutely no way I could go back to Ruth’s.
I couldn’t face telling anyone anything, admitting another failure.
Technically, nobody was expecting me home until the following day.
I pulled off the motorway into a large service station with a travel lodge and decided to camp out here until I could decide what to do with myself.
‘Is there a pharmacy here?’ I asked the receptionist and she pointed across the car park at a twenty-four-hour Boots. It wasn’t even nine in the morning yet but already it felt like the longest day of my life.
I bought a packet of antihistamines, the ones that warned of drowsiness and I took two of them back in the room. I’d been awake for thirty hours. I needed a break from the God-awful situation I was in. I sank under the covers, praying for a few hours of oblivion
It did the trick. I passed out into a deep dreamless sleep for six hours straight. Ignorance really was bliss. I had a brief reprieve from that gut wrenching, devastating heartache. I had no idea how to survive it.