Page 69 of The Tape Job
That was until Vicky decided she wasn’t keen after all.
I remember the day like it was yesterday; and to make matters worse, I was worrying about an ongoing issue with my knee. With the season on pause for All-Star week, I was packing up to fly to the UK and spend a week with Vicky. I had my suitcase laid out on my bed. I tossed things in whilst listening to a playlist Vicky and I had put together—completely oblivious to what was about to happen.
Then she called me.
“How’s the knee?” she asked as soon as I picked up.
I can’t say it was out of character because she always asked about stuff like that. She knew I was having trouble with it. We talked for around twenty minutes before her tone changed. I guess she was building up the courage.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she’d blurted out, finally.
“About the venue?” I’d naively asked, thinking back when she mentioned her uncertainty.
“No. The wedding.”
We were planning a very small affair, with the aspiration to do a bit of travelling when we could, and then have a party afterwards with our friends and family.
“You want to have a big showy one, instead? We can do that. It’s not a problem—”
“No, Liam. I don’t want to marry you.”
It was obvious that it was her first time saying it out loud. Her voice cracked and broke, as if holding back tears.
“You don’t want to marry me?” I asked her.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t. I’ve changed my mind. I’m allowed to change my mind,” she snapped.
But I hung up at that point. I couldn’t listen to her anymore. And I cried. I’m not even ashamed to admit I cried. I sobbed uncontrollably, as if a lifetime’s worth of withheld tears were pouring out of me. I don’t even think I cried that much when my mom died. Probably because we knew it was coming, so we had time to mentally prepare.
My initial instinct was to fly over and demand answers. Then, I remembered the heartbreak from the first time and how I needed to heal myself all over again. It was at this point the dread set in. I’d crawled into bed and shut the world out, turning my phone off. I didn’t even go to the gym. I hardly ate. I hardly slept. I just lay there in complete nothingness.
On the afternoon of the third day, Ryan arrived at my place. He’d used his key to let himself in, and he groaned in disgust when he made it into my bedroom.
“What the hell happened?” he asked, pulling back the curtains in an overly dramatic fashion. “You haven’t been answering your phone.”
I covered my head with my blankets, then I lied to him. “Just some issues with my knee, and I had a few heavy nights.”
He called bullshit straight away. “Is this about a girl?”
It’s about the girl, I had wanted to say, but I busied myself by rolling out of bed and reaching for a pair of sweatpants.
I hadn’t told Ryan that Vicky and I were back on, in fear of a moment like this. It was embarrassing to have your heart broken by your high-school sweetheart once, and now for a second time—I was a chump.
He opened the windows and started clearing up some trash I’d left lying around. Then just as he went to reach for a stack of papers, I intercepted.
“Alright, chill. I’ll go get something to drink.” Ryan walked through to the kitchen.
I skimmed over the papers, bile rising in my throat. I’d signed the dotted line. Fuck. Shit. Bitch. I’d agreed to play inthe UK. The idea of going there immediately was unbearable, and I threw up in the trash can.
After I’d cleaned myself up, I sat next to Ryan on the sofa and took a long drink of water. He didn’t press me any further; instead, he handed me my Xbox controller. My mind was racing, and all I could think about was that fucking contract I’d signed. What the hell was I going to do? I mean, I could probably get Ronnie to make some calls, but I was already on thin ice.
I looked at Ryan and back at the TV a couple of times before taking a lung-full of air. “Hey, bud. Have you signed your renewal yet?”
“Nah, I’m meeting with Ronnie next week.” Ronnie, always made sure to meet in person before a signing.
