Diary of a Resurrection (A Novella) Read Online Free PDF Page A

chin almost touching your chest as if your
head weighed a ton. “Needy. Always wanting to talk or be in touch. Jesus, Mina.
I have a life, you know?”
    The last two words slurred into one.
    I sniffed the tears back; I was not going to cry in front of
you.
    “Why don’t you go home and sleep it off, Drew.”
    I turned away and started to my car. I didn’t want to leave
you there like that. What I wanted was to cuddle you and you hold my head like
you always did, kissing my hair. Not insult me when you could barely stand up.
It really hurt to know that when people are drunk they often cannot hide their
true selves or thoughts, which meant you really thought I was needy. I was
ashamed of myself and thinking back now, that really pisses me off. Who were
you to make me doubt myself or make me embarrassed about wanting to be with
someone I loved. Someone I had hoped would love me back.
    “Pan isn’t needy you know, Min,” you called after me. “Pan
doesn’t care. Talk to her, don’t talk to her. She doesn’t care. As long as she
shares my bed, she doesn’t care.”
    “Then go home and fuck Pan, Drew, because I don’t care
either.” I shouted so hard it hurt my throat. And I did care. Of course I did.
     
    The next morning I had four missed
calls from you by ten am. I switched my phone to silent so I could think. I
just couldn’t work out what had happened. I wondered if you were just an angry
drunk. If I’d upset you. If I’d done something wrong. Was it because I had
finally opened up to you? I didn’t see anything unreasonable in my words about
leaving Pan and being with me. Nor did I see any wrong in loving you and saying
so, I mean, surely it had been obvious anyway. But still, part me regretted it
and wished I had left things as they were; perfect and blissful. Perhaps naming
something is what changes it, and not always for the better.
    I called you back just after one pm. You sounded groggy but
relieved.
    “I’m sorry,” were your first words.
    “For what? Ignoring me? Turning up at my work shitfaced? Or
being an utter asshole?”
    You sighed right into the mouthpiece and into my brain. “Don’t
be like that, Min. I feel like crap as it is. I’m sorry for all of it. OK?”
    Your voice was short and clipped, like you were mad at me,
yet I knew I had done nothing wrong.
    “Things were just getting to me,” you carried on. “I needed
to blow off steam. Things have been intense lately. Can’t we just forget it
happened?”
    “What things?” I asked. “What things have been getting to
you?”
    “Work. Pan… Us.” You sighed again. “Mina, I said I’m sorry.
Why do you have to make a big deal out of everything? God, artists are such
hard work. Just let it go, alright? I was drunk, big deal.”
    I started to wonder, was I being unreasonable? Were you
right and I was overreacting?
    “Can I see you?” you said, your voice quieter and softer,
and more like… you.
    My heart melted a little. I wanted things to be normal. I
didn’t want to fight.
    “I’m still mad at you,” I said, barely even convincing
myself.
     
    Later that day we met at that park
we liked, the one that was forty minutes away, just to get away from the risk
of being seen. You know what, Drew? I never minded driving out of my way for
you, because I thought you were worth it. I would have driven anywhere in the
world if you had asked. What an idiot.
    We walked together, talking and laughing like nothing had
happened, except you didn’t reach for my hand like usual. I noticed straight
away. I didn’t want to ask why because I had a sense that you were barely being
the Drew I knew, and I didn’t want to spook him when he’d only just returned.
So I just accepted it. Instead, eventually, I looped my arm through yours, just
to be close. You never said anything or pulled away, so I guessed it was OK. I
never asked what happened the night before. Why you got so drunk or why you
said the things you did. I wasn’t even sure if