I'm on the balcony nursing a cup of green tea when I hear a knock at my front door. I take a sip, but the tea is still burning hot. I wince. Swallow. It scalds my throat. My chest hurts.
There's another knock. 'Liv!' I hear him call through the door.
I get up; my legs are shaky. I walk through the apartment with soft, careful steps, unsure yet if I'm going to open the door. There've been two days of silence, but it's Sunday afternoon now, and the party's over; his friends have all gone home and he's starting to miss me. This understanding is at once familiar and shocking. It's like looking down and seeing a wound: that moment in which the mind wakes up to the body, and you suddenly feel the pain.
I put my tea down on the table but, distracted, I sit it too close to the edge and it falls off. The ceramic mug cracks on the floor.
'Liv!' he yells. 'I know you're in there!' I grab a tea towel to mop up the spilt tea. 'Please!' he begs. 'Just open the door.'
I put the pieces of broken cup in the bin and walk to the door. Looking through the peephole, I see his eyelids are puffy, his face flushed pink. There are marks beneath his eyes, making the blue of them stand out like a lit flare.
I open the door and ease myself out, closing the door behind me, so that we're on the landing.
He pulls me into a hug. And then he kisses me. It's sour. My nose is blocked from all the crying, but I can still smell cigarette smoke on his clothes. I push his face away. 'Get off me.'
'Liv …' he whispers, shrinking back, hurt. He takes hold of my hand, squeezes it gently. He sighs. His breath stinks. I need air.
'Come on,' I say, 'let's go for a walk.'
I begin to descend the stairs, but he doesn't follow. I pause on the lower landing and turn to look up at him, a flight of stairs above me now.
'Can't we stay here?'
'No,' I say adamantly, in a voice I hardly recognise.
'You don't even have shoes on.'
'I don't care,' I retort and continue down the stairs.
He hurries after me, catching up to me in the foyer, where I charge through the front door of the building without waiting for him.
On the street, I march down the hill into the heart of town, Adam half a step behind. We walk in silence all the way to the beach, where I sink my feet into the cold sand and sit down, wrapping my arms around my torso. Holding myself together.
Adam sits down beside me. 'I honestly didn't think you'd be this upset.'
'I'm not upset,' I snap.
'Okay, well, what was that all about then?' He touches a hand to my shoulder and I edge away. This time his shock transforms into anger. 'You know, you're just as much in the wrong as I am,' he says.
'What?'
'You embarrassed me in front of my friends.'
And I want to say, Adam, you humiliated me, but I can't bring myself to speak. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Being humiliated does that to people: it silences them.
'I just don't know why you had a problem with a tiny bit of coke.'
'I wasn't in the mood.'
'What, so I can't have fun because you're in a mood?'
I hate how he says it: mood—like it's something non-human. 'I just think you could have shown a little more empathy.'
'You want me to have more feelings?'
As he says that I blink and my tears run free.
'Should I start crying now, too?'
'Fuck you.'
That makes him laugh. 'Come on …' He slips an arm around my waist, drawing me in close. 'This is us, Liv! We fight. And then we make up. And then we fight. And then we make up.'
'Well, maybe I don't like us,' I say.
He loosens his grip. I can feel him staring at me. I shiver.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
I shrug. I'm sobbing now.
'Look, if you don't want to be with me,' he says, in a very faraway voice, 'just say.'
I mumble, 'I don't want to be with you.' It's barely audible.
'What?'
'I said, I don't want to be with you anymore.'
At that moment, a crowd starts to cheer further down the beach. I look up to see a man down on one knee by the shoreline, a woman standing ankle deep in the water, laughing.
Adam has seen it too. He looks back to me and says, 'Well, that's fucking ironic, isn't it?'
I don't say anything. I just put my face in my hands, closing my eyes.
The sand shifts beside me. When I finally look up, Adam is gone.
***
Back at the apartment, I punch in the code to let myself into the building, then ascend the stairs. When I get to the front door, I realise I'd gone out without my keys. I knock on Annie's door and Will opens it. He takes one look at me and says, 'Shit. Are you okay?'
'I need the spare key.'
He fetches it for me then says, 'Are you sure you're okay?'
I say, 'I think I just broke up with Adam.'
'Oh. Like, proper?'
I nod.
'Want me to come over?'
'No,' I say. 'I'm alright. I just need to be alone.'
He gives me a hug and tells me, 'Well, I'm here if you need anything.'
'Thanks,' I say, and let myself in.
When I close the door behind me, everything becomes deathly silent. I feel naked. Like a dandelion flower when all its seeds have been blown away. And so I pile on layers of clothes and blankets, building a protective shell around myself. But it's no use. I feel impossibly exposed.
Eventually, I fall asleep.