Boomerang Girl; Part IX

Hello, and greetings! I bet your wondering how many times it took me to get the roman numerals right on this one? Well all of about 30 seconds because Google is my BFF!

So my spike; well it had dropped a bit and it had now gone from ‘raging and ravaging’ to only ‘assertively trying to kill me’ which was much better! My thighs were no longer sweating, just my pits, tits and bits. Winning. I’d even had a visit from Aunty A and she’d bought me bananas, grapes, ginger beer (non-alcoholic obvz) as well as a pull out from the ‘Daily Mail’ on ‘How to dress like Kate’. Well thanks for the thought Aunty A but I’d need about 10 years in finishing school another 4 stone gone as well as to throw out all my short skirts and leopard print and I just wasn’t prepared to do that! I was more likely to succeed at being like Pat Butcher than friggin Kate Middleton who had recently married ole Will!  I guess it was her weird way of trying to be kind and help me through a difficult time, and lets face it she had no idea why I was really in there and she’d have died if she did.  Deep down inside her she’s the kindest lady I know besides when I’d had my lovely mum and granny around.

I’ve digressed sufficiently now.

I’d also had another visit too but this time by ‘Dec’ a lovely chap who had long hair and a beard who totally resembled Jesus. He obviously fancied me and I wanted to like him too but I just didn’t, it was a shame as he was kind and funny he’d even bought me in a poem that he not only wrote but I’ve still got! Dec and I had met one night in Southport when I was with ‘Baya’ and ‘J’, he’d been cool, danced like Austin Powers and asked for my number (we know I can’t say no right?). I’m glad I hadn’t said NO, Im glad that he came to see me that day armed with pound-shop treats his dog-eared expression of adoration for me and most of all because he nipped to the Macdonald’s and came back with a ‘Fillet O’ Fish’. Fuck yeh! Total winner! I’d never met a guy who’d done anything so kind like that before, James had always mumbled ‘Get it ya self’. Nice.

Life was looking brighter but I still had that bastard ‘R’ hounding me to death and now I knew where the expression ‘He’ll be the death of me’ came from. I was convinced this might ring true here though I hoped not. I’d asked Dec to do me a favour and bring me some forms from the job-centre as I had decided I was going to apply for job seekers allowance and when I was out of this hell hole I wasn’t going to go back to another. The little sweet thing had done and in a few days I’d been told that while I was incapacitated in hospital I would be able to getting a back- payment of nearly £700!! Woop woop! I was a millionaire and ‘R’ could go fuck him-self and not some poor young girl for a change! Though we know that wasn’t going to happen the scumbag.

I’d worked out it was the love of my life married bald nursey’s shift tonight too and had, had this confirmed by miserable Anne who was one of the day shift nurses. I couldn’t work out if Anne was so miserable she resembled a living Eeeyore or whether she was sarcastic af and just hilariously funny. How could I look attractive in hospital I wondered? Maybe I should try to knock something sexy up from my open back paper gown and hope he likes it? Jesus he’d already seen me at my possible worst (hopefully and surely it cannot get worse?). I had no makeup with me, as it had been the last thing on my mind when I took myself off to A&E 4 weeks earlier. Oh well, I could only dream anyway as he was taken and not just ‘taken’ he was married and I needed to remember that because I had wanted to rip the eyes out of the girls that James had been dipping into. Every single one of them I’d hated, and especially Clare who’d moonlighted as a good friend too, I’d felt betrayed, sick to the very pit of my stomach vowing to never to do that to another woman as it was pure evil. So for now I was ok with him touching my wrist and talking to me softly and giving me tingles (yes, he did give me tingles and not the type you rude lot might be thinking). As mentioned before, I’ve never been the type of female to have ever dreamt of ‘happily ever after’ and thought more about how successful I would be. Fairy tales to me had been fantasylands filled with animals that spoke, they certainly didn’t include tall handsome bald nurses. I had never ever dreamt of a big white wedding, and the one I’d had with James had made me feel very silly/anxious and embarrassed on the day and not because I knew I was marrying someone I was going to divorce but because I felt like a dick. I still marvel at beautiful wedding dresses but the idea of spending a shit tonne of money and wearing white just doesn’t sit well with me, its like wrapping yourself up as a fucking gift to a man! I’m not a gift babe; I’m a goddamn queen!

I saw his big tall shadow looming outside my door ‘Yuss’ he was coming to do my Obs obvz! Phew! My ginger beer bottle and two ‘Get well’ soon cards sat there pride of place on my little pull out dinner table attached to my bed. He smiled and said I was looking better, it was August 14th and I felt like I had to write it down like Cadie did in ‘Mean Girls’ but I didn’t. I just smiled and thanked him whilst being painfully awkward and British by replying with

“Thanks, so do you”

I mean he hadn’t needed to look better like I had but I said it, just like when someone wished me Happy Birthday and I said it back like the douche bag I am. This time he did look better, more handsome, mature, and a little rough and like a real man. Sure he was thin but he wasn’t puny, he could definitely save me from ‘R’.

That night I felt happier, the happiest I had felt in a long time, I wasn’t on the phones at night so that was a bonus but I felt calmer and it was because of him. It was this calming demeanour he had that soothed me, maybe it was because I did genuinely love him, It wasn’t the type of ‘love’ or lust I had felt before as a naive young girl who was simply vying for the attention from some undesirable who just happened to show me some. What most guys before him had wanted was to get their end away, and I quickly realised it wasn’t because they liked me it was because most hot-blooded males in their late teens and early twenties can’t bloody help themselves! I had my fair share of those dick heads and this time I was dealing with a man; in hindsight the BS I’d had from James had made me learn what I did’t want. My heart had been broken into millions of tiny pieces during that time and (cliche but true) I’d played a mixture of Carol King and Neyo’s love songs (wtf right?) on repeat whilst crying into some shit mug of weak tea. It took months but finally I was over the idea of ‘needing’ a man so this time I felt (though in the worst position of my life in other areas) quietly confident when it came to dealing with love interests. No more chasing them, texting them back and wondering when they would reply, no more fucking games! I just wish I’d have been able to treat ‘R’ that way too, its weird how shit scared I was really of him, he who really was puny and certainly didn’t act in anyway shape or form like a man!

Calm, serene and content I felt that night, waiting for round two of ‘obs’, there was a lump in my throat as I was so scared it would be another ‘nursey’ and maybe he’d have been tending to someone in a much more serious condition than mine, whatever mine was? He appeared for round two, I was over the moon, now was my chance to speak to him I thought and find out more.

“Hi, its nice to see you!”

“Its nice to see you too, why you still awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I hear everything in here and its difficult to doze off lately, plus whenever you come around I like it because I’m lonely”

“Do you want some sleeping pills? I can see if your allowed some? and why are you lonely? Have you no friends nor family to visit you, what about your husband?”

I explained briefly my situation regarding my parents and my twat of a husband.

“What about you? What does your wife do? And Haydn told me you have a son?”

“My wife is a nurse, but we don’t really see each other, we lead separate lives and my boy is my pride and joy, he’s nearly four”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that about you and your wife”

I wasn’t frikkin sorry!! I was bloody ecstatic!!! I felt cured! Like when you see those people on God Channel (yes I watched at times because it made me giggle) who are suddenly cured and can walk, then leap out their wheel chair. I wanted to leap out the bed, kiss him on the lips for him to then carry me in his arms into the sunset. But not the Southport sunsets as its grim, but somewhere nice, somewhere beautiful like Cornwall or Norfolk. It was destiny.

That night he stayed in my room for two hours; we laughed and joked about stupid things, which luckily we both found so funny. My humour is ridiculous and I’d been watching embarrassing bodies on the hospital TV which we then pissed ourselves at too (cruel considering the state of my boobs). He asked me what my dreams were and I found myself saying things I’d never said before such as wanting a quiet life in the country with a couple of kids and Golden Retrievers. Most days Id spend my time writing best sellers and he’d do the same, it sounded bliss and until this day I’d never wanted any of that with anyone; just the Retrievers and lots of them.

I was getting better, he was breathing life back into me but I was so scared to leave now, as I knew it meant going back to my life with ‘R’ having full control over his harem of girls.

Not only did I have dreams of a happy marriage and wonderful life, but also I dreamt also of the police locking that rapist pimp up and being done with him. He’d get what he deserved, surely? Call me evil too, but I even fantasised about the abuse he’d get behind bars; I’d heard the general prison population disliked sex offenders a great deal, especially the kiddy fiddler ones. The police would help me, I just knew it, I mean after all I’d convinced myself I was doing no harm or was I? I realised I wasn’t just not sleeping because of my illness, but that in fact my mystery illness had been spurred on by my conscience. Thank fuck I have one. I wrestled with that bitch 24/7, every single moment in time that passed I thought of his crimes. Sitting wondering how I’d been silent and remembering a phrase I’d read once ‘Silence is Violence’. I had to do something, but then who was going to believe someone like me? Nobody. I’d just have to get out of it all myself and pretend it had never happened. I was a ‘boomerang’ girl I’d have to go back to him until Id worked out my plan.

Love Lo xxx

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s