You'd Have Loved It

This story contains themes of suicide and mental health. Reader discretion is advised.

She threw the final crust down and looked at me. Her eyes gave her away immediately.

"I'll shove this in the bin," I said as she opened her mouth to speak.

She let out a soft sigh as she closed her mouth and nodded reluctantly.

Standing up, I picked up the now empty pizza box and practically ran to the kitchen. Now it was my turn to sigh as the lid of the bin swung on its hinges. I leant against the sink and stared up at the ceiling. An eternity seemed to pass. And yet, after mere seconds, I was jolted back to reality.

"You should talk to someone," came her voice from the doorway. I snapped my head down to stare into those warm, blue eyes of hers. She absentmindedly rubbed the pale indent from where the ring had been until recently. She must have noticed me staring because she looked down and appeared startled by what she was doing. Then, smiling, said, "It helps. It's what-"

"Sorry, Chloe, I need to get some sleep. I've got an early start tomorrow and..." I tailed off, ashamed of my own lie.

Chloe had the good grace to accept the lie at face value, though she seemed to shrink somewhat.

She hugged me tight as she left. One small sniff. If she hadn't been hugging me as tight, I might have missed it. But no. There it was.

And there was the hatred. Other people were suffering too. Chloe was one of them. But she'd done something to move on. And then there was me. Doing nothing, saying nothing, just surviving without living. And the hatred intensified. Why couldn't I? Why wouldn't I?

I gave one more squeeze and released her. I smiled and pretended not to see the tear she'd hurriedly tried to wipe away.

***

Our goodbye was short. It always was. And so it was that I found myself sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media, a Brooklyn 99 episode playing in the background. Jesus. How long have I been doing this for? I'm about to muster the energy to stop scrolling and go to bed when I see it.

I snort as I read the title:

FOOTBALL MANAGER APLOGISES FOR "PUBIC EMBARRASSMENT" AFTER 7-0 LOSS

I immediately screenshot it and click share. I know exactly what to type that will make him laugh. And there his name is: Chris. My finger goes to tap the name but I realise my mistake just in time.

And there it is. A feeling I'd gotten used to since it happened, but not one I'd suffered for a few months now. Or had I? Had I just not realised?

I stare at his picture. Him and Chloe looking as loved up as they had always been. She dangles her hand to the camera, the ring almost as obvious on her finger as the look of shock and delight is on her face. I feel myself begin to smile at the look of happiness on both their faces. But as quickly as that smile arrives, it dies.

And there they are. I hadn't realised until now how quiet they had become. But they never truly left - the anger, guilt, betrayal and doubt. They'd just got better at hiding. Waiting for me to slip up so they could attack.

But why now? It's been so long. Why is this feeling back?

My finger still hovers over his picture. Entire galaxies form and die as I sit there, staring at his and Chloe's faces. Why now? Why?

Before I know what I'm doing, I hit the home button. Instantly, Chris' face vanishes, the news article with it. I find WhatsApp and open it. I scroll past countless unopened chats. Faster and faster they fly past until I see his name. I try to stop, but our chat has already zoomed by. I scroll back up and find it. One click is all it takes for our messages to appear in all their glory.

Or do they? I mean, obviously they appear, I clicked on his name? But in glory? Hardly. All I see are memes, GIFs, and links to bullshit nonsense. There's no glory here. No grand plans of how to change the world. No chats about our achievements or major life events. Jesus. There's not even a chat about him getting engaged. Just me sending him a shitty GIF of Dwight from The Office holding a duck of some kind. Con-quack-ulations. We didn't even watch The Office. Chris' reply is just a thumbs up emoji. So many of them are. No words, just a thumbs up emoji for me. I crack a small smile as I think that I could have told him I was becoming The Intergalactic Emperor of the Universe and he'd have just replied with that bloody thumbs up.

And that's when the mystery is solved. Why it should have hit me now out of nowhere. Why my stomach feels heavier than lead. Because the big moments had always been there. I vividly remember seeing him for the first time after he got engaged. We chatted for hours about it all. He asked me to be his best man. But that's not what I miss. That's not what I need right now.

What I need right now is my mate to send a funny headline to.

I scroll through our messages, searching for any clues. Anything that I might have missed. I need to know if there is anything that would have told me how much he was struggling. But there's nothing. I think back to our conversations in person, our phone calls. Was there anything? Not that I can think of.

And once more I'm there. Drowning in the melancholy that's filled my life since he left. Had he not trusted me? Did he not want to worry me?

My mind is filled with the questions that have plagued me since that day. And above all of them, one stands clear. Why?

Why did he do it? Why didn't he speak to me? To Chloe? And my heart aches for her again. I lost my best friend, but she lost her soulmate. The one she was going to spend her life with.

That thought silences the sadness. Now I just feel the anger that constantly bubbles under the surface. It's selfish. That's what it fucking is. It's fucking selfish. He could have stayed. He could have spoken to us. But no. He's left us in this position. Picking up the pieces after he's flipped the whole sodding table. The thought tastes bitter, even in my head. I recoil with disgust.

Because deep down I know it's not true. The decision he made that day is not one he'd have taken lightly. It wasn't a decision he'd have made in the heat of the moment. At least, I don't think it was. Maybe I'll ask him one day.

And in that moment, I decide that Chloe is right. I need to speak to someone. It's been 2 years of suffering on my own. Is that how Chris felt? Like he was alone? I don't want to go down the road he walked. I need to speak to someone.

And I know exactly who I need to speak to. Because I saw a shitty newspaper article that had been misspelled so that it said pubic instead of public. There's only one person I want to tell about that.

There's no ring, I knew there wouldn't be. This number hasn't been used for 2 years. I listen politely to the female voice telling me to leave a message after the beep. I smile. But it happens too soon. The beep happens and I'm stuck in limbo. What do I say?

An awkward silence stretches. I think about hanging up. This is stupid. He's not going to hear it, is he? But is that the point? Do I want him to hear it? Or do I just want to talk to my mate? I let out a long, slow breath.

"Hi mate, it's just me. I-" I cut off, feeling tears stream down my cheeks. Wiping them away, I decide I need to tell him something much more important. "I really fucking miss you. It's been 2 years and I'm really bloody struggling..." I pause again, because what else is there to say? Just one thing, "But I promise you I'm going to get help to get through it, I swear." I let out a small, shaky laugh. The laugh strengthens as I imagine what he'd say if he'd seen it.

"Imagine being that shit at football you've got to flaunt your pubes to distract from the score."

I laugh once more and sniff, wiping my nose and eyes, just like Chloe had done only recently. And then I'm telling him about the article. Tears stream as I smile like I haven't done in forever.

"Yeah..." I smile, my voice faltering. "You'd have loved it."