The Weight of Living

Chapter 1

I don’t belong here

I don’t belong here.

It’s the story of my life, really. Wherever I am, whoever I’m with, I feel out of place, like I’m in the way. No one actually wants me around; they’re just good people who feel obliged to talk to me, but I know they’d rather I left so they could relax and enjoy themselves.

So here I am, grabbing my keys and cardigan after only an hour at Ivy’s. Though I wish I could stay at my best friend’s house longer, I don’t want to outstay my welcome, despite her protests.

“Oh, come on, Tilly, you’ve only been here an hour! I’m ordering a takeaway for me and Connor in a bit, you should join us.”

Takeaway food? Absolutely not. I already over-indulged this week when I had that chocolate biscuit in the staff room. But more than not wanting to ruin my diet, the thought of spending the evening with Connor Wilson gives me the ick.

Ivy and her older brother live together after jointly inheriting their family home when their parents died, five years ago. Which means that whenever I go to visit Ivy, I generally end up bumping into Connor.

Since Ivy and I have been friends since primary school, I’ve spent most of my life dodging Connor’s hateful glares and teasing comments.

Fortunately, I already give myself enough shit that there’s no room for Connor’s words in my brain, so they don’t affect me as much as they used to.

But that doesn’t mean I want to be around him.

“I’d love to, but I promised Rhys I’d be home in time to watch a film together.”

I have not, in fact, promised Rhys we’ll watch a film together, but it makes for an easy excuse.

I feign disappointment for Ivy’s sake. Though Connor and I are never friendly towards each other, Ivy’s always thought it was just good-natured bantering rather than Connor being a prick.

I don’t want to burst her bubble about the brother she idolises, so I go along with it.

“You know what he’s like,” I say, taking my mug into the kitchen to wash before I leave. “He’s a man-child. He’ll sulk if I’m too late.”

“He’s a grown-ass man,” Ivy grumbles. “He can cope without you for a couple of hours.”

“I know, but I promised him.”

Ivy sighs and leans her hip against the counter while I wash up the rest of the dishes in the bowl.

“You don’t have to earn your keep when you come over, you know,” she teases.

This is what I do each visit, and she’s long-since given up trying to stop me.

I always make sure to wash my own cup so she doesn’t feel like she’s cleaning up after me, and I clean any strays I find at the same time, for good measure.

Depending on how long I’m here, I sometimes fold some washing or something too.

The thought of being a burden to Ivy is too much to bear, so I overcompensate so she’ll think it might be worth having me around after all.

“I know,” I answer simply. I rinse the bubbles out of the bowl, dry my hands on the tea towel Ivy holds out for me, and pick up my keys. “Thanks for having me over.” I lean into Ivy’s outstretched arms and give my best friend a hug, as we have done since we were little.

“Put her down, Ivy, you don’t know where she’s been.”

The deep voice coming from the doorway makes my stomach drop. I thought I’d gotten away with not seeing him this visit, but apparently luck isn’t on my side today.

“That wasn’t funny the first time you said it, or the hundreds of times you’ve said it since,” I say with a roll of my eyes. Nonetheless, I let Ivy go, and move towards the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m hilarious. You just don’t have a sense of humour.

” Connor crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe – but when I stop a few feet short of him, his eyes flick briefly to mine, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll push past him.

Whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it.

His jaw tightens, and he stays where he is, blocking the way.

“I need to get through,” I say, pointing towards the sliver of space between his hip and the wooden frame.

He shrugs, eyeing the space next to him. “Go ahead.”

The words sound casual, but there’s a flicker of something – confusion? – like he genuinely doesn’t realise how narrow the space is until I stare at it.

Sighing, I look to Ivy pleadingly, hoping she’ll intervene and make him move, but she just watches us with amusement.

“I can’t fit through that space, and you know it,” I mumble through gritted teeth. Not since Year 8 have I felt comfortable squeezing past people. Too many whispered comments echo in my mind at the thought.

Connor’s eyebrows furrow as he looks again at the gap, then at me, not lingering the way I expect, more like he’s realising too late that he’s misjudged something. He looks away sharply, colour climbing his cheeks, before he forces his expression back to neutral.

“I’m comfy here. If you want to leave, you’ll have to go past me.”

Stubborn ass.

Ivy laughs from next to the sink. “Connor, just move. You’re only standing there so she’ll brush her tits against you when she walks past.”

“Gross,” I say, pulling a face. I look at Connor, expecting him to have the same reaction, but I find him looking away from me. His cheeks are tinted ever so slightly pink, and his jaw is set like stone.

“I thought you were leaving, Tilly?”

“I am.”

Despite his annoyance, Connor still doesn’t move from the doorway, so I turn sideways and take a tentative step past his legs.

Sucking in my tummy and being very aware of how close my boobs are to his arm, I shuffle my way through.

Surprisingly, I get to the other side without making contact with him at all, but I’m still annoyed with him.

“Thanks for making that so easy for me,” I say sarcastically.

“Any time.” He shrugs, immediately pushing himself away from the door and strolling into the kitchen.

“You’re such a dick,” I call after him, earning a surprising wince that’s gone in a flash. “Bye, Ivy. I’ll message you later.”

“Bye, Tilly.”

Ivy waves, not fazed by my interaction with her brother in the slightest.

“Bye, Dickhead,” I add to Connor, as I turn around and leave.

On my way home, I stop at the shop to buy some Friday night treats for Rhys.

I figure it would be nice for us to spend some quality time together while we have a rare free evening.

Between Rhys’s odd hours working as a personal trainer at a gym as well as his own training, and me bringing work home from school every night, we seldom get to be with each other for more than an hour at a time.

So I pick up his favourite crisps and a pack of beer and head home, ready to spend a rare cosy evening with my husband.

Rhys is already home when I pull into the drive, so I’m surprised when I find the front door locked.

Balancing the shopping and my school bag in one hand, I fumble with my keys until I manage to find the right one and slot it into the lock, only to find it won’t turn.

Rhys must have left his keys in the door from the inside.

“Rhys?” I call through the letterbox. “Can you open the door?”

A minute passes by while I wait for him to respond, and just as I’m about to try phoning him instead, I hear him walking down the hall. A jangle of keys, the click of the lock and the door swings open to reveal my husband’s bare chest and broad smile.

“Hey, Muffin! Sorry, I didn’t realise I’d locked it,” he says, eyeing the shopping in my hands. “Crisps, Matilda? I thought you were being good?”

“They’re for you,” I quickly explain, shifting my weight as I try to hold everything. “I thought we could have a night in together.”

“Oh,” he says guiltily, taking the crisps and beer out of my hands and leading the way inside. “I’d love to, Mat, but I’ve booked in some sessions with clients.”

“On a Friday night?” I ask, disappointed. Though the disappointment of him being too busy for me isn’t new, it still hits hard each time.

“Yeah, a lot of people are dedicated enough to train even on a Friday night. I’ll make it up to you, though. I’ll wake you up when I get home and we can have a little workout of our own.”

His devious grin eases my frustration slightly. I was looking forward to spending time with him, but who am I to complain when he’s only trying to work hard for us?

I squeak in surprise when Rhys slaps me on the arse and picks up his T-shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head.

“What are you going to do tonight, then?” he asks, distracting me from wondering why his top was on the floor in the first place.

“Maybe you could look up some tutorials for make-up or something? Get some practice in? Or maybe you could do an actual workout, seeing as I’ll be doing most of the work when I get to bed later. ”

I was actually intending on reading in the bath until the water goes cold, but now I feel lazy and inadequate. Not unfamiliar feelings, but unpleasant, nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’ll probably do one of those workout videos you sent me.” At least if I do it at home alone, no one will see my red, sweaty body wobbling around.

“Cool.” Rhys leans down to kiss my cheek. “Bye, Muffin.”

“I love you,” I tell him, but he’s already walking away.