Marx Girl

“Whatever.” I sigh, uninterested. They can strap me to the fucking wing for all I care.

I pay for my ticket, pass through security, make my way to the lounge, and take a seat at the bar.

“Hello.” The friendly bartender smiles.

“I’ll have a scotch, please.” I sigh. “Keep them coming.”

The cab pulls up in front of my apartment block in Washington, and I look out onto the street. It feels like it took forever to get home, and now that I’m finally here I don’t want to be.

Actually, I don’t want to be anywhere but in Australia with Bridget, starting a new life with her… for her.

The driver retrieves my suitcase from the trunk, and I frown as I run the backs of my fingers over my two-day growth. I need to get a hold of myself.

Just get out of the car.

I watch him drive away slowly.

One step in front of the other… do it.

I take the elevator. My mind is a jumbled mess, and foggy.

I unlock the door and look around the sparse apartment before I walk in and throw my bag down, exhaling heavily.

I look back out into the corridor and consider going straight to a bar… or doing anything that doesn’t involve being here alone. I feel claustrophobic and I know I need to calm myself down, so I go to the bar and pour myself a scotch.

I walk into my kitchen and rustle around for some sleeping pills.

I just can’t deal with this fucking day any longer.

I’m gutted, weak, and I’m fucking furious beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. Whoever set this up had better fucking run because when I get a hold of them, they will beg me to kill them.

I get an image of her face as she told me she could never love someone who does what I do, and regret hits me hard in the gut. She didn’t need to know any of this, and even though I wanted to tell her, I knew she wouldn’t feel the same about me once she did.

It’s been days since I’ve slept, even though I tried to on the plane. But how do you get yourself into a relaxed state when it feels like you can’t breathe? I pop three sleeping tablets out of the bottle, throw them into my mouth, and drain the scotch in my glass in one gulp as I prepare myself for my next phone call. The one to Brock.

I dial his number and he answers first ring. “Hey, man.”

I put my hand on my hip. “Have you spoken to Bridget?” I ask.

“No. Why?”

“Can you check on her?” I clench my jaw as I imagine her being sad and alone.

“Why?” he asks way too quickly.

“She knows…” I pause. “She knows everything.”

He stays silent.

“She left me.”

“Fuck, man.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

I drop my head as I frown. “Not as sorry as I am.”

He exhales heavily down the phone.

I walk over and pull back the curtains to peer out onto the street below. “Just make sure she’s safe. She was in Prague. I’m not sure if she’s gone on her tour of Scotland, or where she’s heading,” I continue.

“Okay, I’ll let you know.”

I frown as I force the next words from my lips. “Yeah… don’t. I’m cutting all ties. That’s it this time.”

“Mate, you know she’s just angry.”

I clench my jaw as pain lances through my chest. I hesitate. “She’s too good for me, she’s always been too good for me. We both know that. Just…” I sigh. “Just look after her for me, please.” I have to get off the phone. I can’t fucking stand it.

“You okay, mate?” he asks softly.

I don’t answer because, in all honesty, I just don’t know.

“See you later,” I reply.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, man.”

I hang up and type out a text.

Don’t accept any jobs at all

We have a defector in camp.

Nobody can be trusted.

I’ll fill you in when I get back.

I type in the names of my closest friends and hit send.

A text bounces back from Brock.

Didge is on her flight home now

Mum and Tash are picking her up from the airport.

Get some sleep.

I frown as I imagine her arriving at the airport alone, and my chest constricts. I get in the shower and stand under the hot water as I inhale deeply to try and calm myself down.

I haven’t been this low since the night my mother died.

This is a dark day.

“Go!” he yells.

I hit hard and fast, and the sound of my boxing gloves connecting with the pads echoes all around.

I’m dripping wet with perspiration, the gym my only solace.

For two minutes I hit as hard as I can until I can punch no more.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

I glance up, panting heavily, and then smirk. It’s Thomo, one of my closest friends.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks.