Recovery

Her parents had been split up for a little while now. 8 months and 15 days to be exact. It still sucked.
***
When she found out, all she could think was how could she have been so stupid. It was obvious, all the signs were staring at her, and she felt embarrassed. Obviously that wasn’t a normal reaction, but it perfectly summed her up: not normal. She’s normally very rational, but she used to believe in romance, in love, in the perfect fairytale waiting for everyone. That’s stopped now. She tried not to cry when she found out, they were looking at her with their big sad eyes, and whilst the pieces of her world fell down and were crushing her, she was just trying to focus on breathing.
She couldn’t breathe.
She felt like all the oxygen was going out of her body.
And then the worst thing happened, she started to cry.
The warm dribble of salt water leaking from her eyes fell upon her cheek, a sensation usually saved until the safe, comfortable confines of her bedroom. She saved it for when she was sure she was alone. Even when her parents were together she always felt like she had to be the perfect child. They were always setting the standard for her, saying how smart she was, how cheerful and happy she was, how beautiful she was. So when she stopped feeling smart, and cheerful and happy and beautiful, she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to let them down, she didn’t want the illusion of herself to be broken in front of them. She got good at hiding her feelings form everyone, but not this time.
The crying, as she predicted, made everything worse. The constant repetition of what must be stock “sorry honey we’re getting a divorce” phrases increased tenfold, and whilst she was nodding, and trying to smile watery smiles, she knew that her life would never be the same again, and that was fucking terrifying. She was hoping that the first major change in her life would be university, not divorce. Worsening the situation further, she found out the day before her 18th birthday, but they had apparently been wanting to tell her for months. And she missed it.
After promising that she was going to be ok, and promising that at the party she was going to tomorrow, to you know celebrate that she wasn’t going to get too drunk because alcohol was only an intensifier for emotions, so if you were feeling shit, you would only feel shittier after taking that 5th shot of tequila. It was the first time she had made a promise that she was intending to break. She didn’t feel guilty.
Finally managing to escape the “we love you so much darling” and “it’s not like we hate each other, we just don’t love each other anymore”, she went to Wells’ house. Her mum wanted to drive her despite the fact that it was a 5-minute walk, but Clarke eventually persuaded her to let her walk saying she wanted some time alone. She had managed the tears, she needed this walk.
She considered running, but being rational, and having an uncontrollable need to plan, she just went to Well’s as planned.
Clarke walked straight in through the front door, her home away from home as she always called it. She walked into the front room and called out “Hello Mr Jaha, I’m just going to see Well’s, is that ok?” he agreed as always, and once again reassured her she didn’t need to ask (manners taught when she was five were hard to get rid of). He then congratulated her early on her birthday. She thanked him, all the time not sure if he knew what had just happened. She could never read him.
She ran up the stairs, and whilst she was planning to tell Wells in a calm way, and not face the tears that had fallen earlier, she couldn’t hold them back once again. Wells was already talking to her about her party (a small one that wasn’t really party, just a pub crawl with a few friends), and had his back turned on her, but when he turned around he saw her crumpled on the floor, silently sobbing, struggling to breathe.
It took a while for him to calm her down, and to understand what had happened. By the time Wells was filled in on the whole story he was in shock, and down approximately 15 packets of tissues. He was more shocked at Clarke’s unstoppable tears. He had never seen her cry. Ever. They lay silent for a while, her head on his stomach, but the rest of her body curled away from him, tucked into the foetal position. Whilst with most this would seem to be too intimate for “friends”, they were never like that, and Clarke was relieved. Wells was her rock; she didn’t want to mess things with him up. She needed him.
They were rarely silent, but when they were it was always comfortable, it made Clarke feel like they were in a bubble, away from the rest of the world. But the memories of the day were quickly piercing the bubble, ruining her comfort. It seemed somehow Wells could sense it, then again he seemed to always be able to read Clarke’s emotions.
So he started talking, trying to think of happy things that didn’t involve Jake or Abby. But just their friendship. “Do you remember when we decided to run away together when we were 8, because we had gotten told off. We decided to pack our bags, and meet at the park at 11pm once our parents thought we were asleep, and it was dark enough that they wouldn’t see us. We thought we were really hard-core, like ninjas or something. We even synchronised our watches. We met at the park, and went home within 5 minutes because a gang of “big kids” came into the park and we got scared. That was fun.”
And he just carried on talking, it filled Clarke with warmth, knowing that she would have Wells, and despite the fact that her father was moving away, and that she didn’t even get a choice to live with him (not that she would move away from her school and her friends or Wells when she was so close to going to uni) and the fact that everything was going to be different, she felt a little better. She had Wells.
And the following night she did drink. A lot. Like a lot. It was bad. She made questionable choices, and even though the tequila didn’t taste that nice, she would drink another one. And soon they did taste nice. She kept wandering off, leaving Wells to come and find her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt guilty for ruining Wells’ night, but anytime he was even slightly distracted she would slip off. She always went to the stars. She would sit outside somewhere, sometimes lay down, and just stare at them. The tiny flecks of light. And for a few moments, she felt nothing. No pain, no coldness, she didn’t even feel drunk despite copious amounts of drink, just numb.
But then Wells would find her, and he would make her laugh again, and everything would flood back, the good and the bad. And she would have to convince herself that she could survive this.
***
Yeah so it still sucked.
She saw her dad a fair amount, but it was awkward, and he kept pressuring her to meet his new girlfriend. She didn’t want to.
Her mother was rarely home, constantly justifying it to Clarke, but ultimately leaving her feeling isolated.
When Clarke wasn’t doing her piles of homework, revision, working at her part time job, volunteering at the dog home (she was a busy person) or sketching, she was watching movies in her room. She immersed herself in movies and music, and often felt they were the only things that got her through. She knew that she was lucky, she didn’t struggle for money, her family was alive, and they did love her, but she felt isolated. Lonely.
She wouldn’t have done if it hadn’t been for the move. Her mother had begged for them to move about 40 minutes form their old house. The new house was nicer but it made it easier for her mother to leave her, and made it harder to reach any of her friends. She was too old to go out and make new friends in the centre of town, so she went out, got food and then just stayed in her room.
About 3 months after the divorce Wells got a crush, his first crush on anyone. Her name was Sasha, and she was new to the school. All the boys wanted her, but Wells and Sasha were just right for each other. Clarke hadn’t had a chance to speak to her before they went out, not properly anyway. Once they started dating Clarke gave her approval. Sasha was great, and Clarke was glad to have another friend.
It started out fine. Wells and Clarke had less time together, but still more than most friends. It really wasn’t too bad. But after the move, they barely spent any time together. They still had school. Clarke would drive the long trek there and back every day, but they didn’t get much time at school to talk. Sometimes they would go round each other’s houses, but a lot less.
Clarke knew they weren’t any less close, if Wells needed her she’s be there, and vice versa, but it was just difficult adjusting.
Clarke felt isolated and lonely. She hated the move, and sometimes thought she hated her family.
She increasingly thought of the runaway attempt made by her 8-year-old self with Wells. She could do it better this time. She could do it right. She wasn’t scared.
But she’d always put it to rest. She’d wait for uni to get away. After all, she had good days with her mum. Well sometimes anyway.
***
Ever since the divorce, Clarke became slightly cynical. She’d always used reason and logic to steer, but still allowed for romance. When she was really little, and kids would see someone kiss and exclaim “ew”, she’d pretend that she was equally disgusted, but ultimately she approved. She thought it was sweet. That thinking stayed with her. She would plan her wedding, and her children’s names. She would give out love advice, and talk to Well’s about how she wanted a boyfriend. IT wasn’t all she thought about, but she was certainly a romantic.
After the divorce, things changed slightly.
She went on rants about how marriage was a sham, and vowed to never marry. She said she didn’t even want a boyfriend. And she made a lot of mistakes when drinking. A lot. She started to loose who she was, because frankly the divorce challenged all of her beliefs. She got a bit of reputation with boys, and although she used to laugh about it, it made her feel like shit. It ate her up. And like every addiction, it was hard to stop. Because whilst she was misbehaving, it felt like she was independent, like she was defying everyone’s beliefs, proving that she didn’t need a relationship.
She knew you didn’t need a relationship to do what she was doing. But with every morning came a sudden realisation of her mistakes, and another notch to her tarnished reputation. Whilst she was distant with her parents, she was always terrified that it would get back to them, that they would hear about her numerous mistakes.
***
More months passed and little changed. She expanded her romcom movie collection. Gained a slight amount of weight from her high levels of chocolate consumption. Heard less and less from her friends and family. They all had lives without her.
But she still had homework, and revision, and work and volunteering and sketching and movies. Although she sketched less now. She didn’t have as much to draw. She could draw her nights, her mistakes, but whilst she tried once thinking it would be therapeutic, it was only embarrassing and painful.
She tried not to think about boys. Sometimes her mind wandered to what it would be like to have a boyfriend, but then she remembers the pain, the statistics, and still feels the hole in her world that will never be filled. The hole caused but her uncertainty, her broken trust, her shock.
Nothing was worth that feeling again. She would rather be alone.
But then he walked into the dog shelter.
***
Clarke loved the shelter. The dogs were so sweet, and seemed to rejuvenate her soul. She felt comfortable around them.
She worked there as much as she could, and sometimes got to help with the medical side. Whilst she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pursue art or medicine in her career, she was leaning towards becoming a doctor. She wanted to help. And whilst she would definitely be picking to be a human doctor, not a vet, any medical experience was good experience, at least in her mind.
But mostly she loved the dogs.
One day she was giving a golden retriever a bath. She was dopey, and hard to control, but adorable, and Clarke could picture the happiness she would bring to a family. She was warm and loving. The dog, Daisy, started barking and managed to pull Clarke into the bath. Whilst the dogs couldn’t get out, apparently they could get humans in with them. Especially if those humans were surprisingly small, and unsuspecting.
Clarke turned round and saw that Daisy had pulled her in, because someone walked in. He was tall, and well, gorgeous. His dark, curly hair and freckles were slightly distracting. For the first time in months she had inspiration to sketch. She could practically feel the charcoal stain on her fingers.
He was also laughing at her. Really laughing. But for once she didn’t feel defensive, or embarrassed, so she laughed too.
“Hi, sorry about this” she started and gestured to the bath, “But, how can I help you?”. She smiled, but then stood up and realised she was stuck. She was actually stuck in the bath, ripping like a moron, and this guy was here to witness it all. She was never good with timing.
He smiled wider, replying “No, sorry, I’m guessing it was my fault you were pulled in?” he awkwardly laughed as he watched her trying to figure out how to escape. He also noticed her cheeks reddening slightly. She could feel his gaze, but she was desperately trying to figure out how to get out.
She suddenly saw a very tanned set out arms stretching out towards her. Glancing towards them she realised he was offering to pick her up, out of the bath. Shit.
She was desperate now, trying to think of a way to get out without him picking her up, but it really wasn’t that simple. With a slight nod, almost missable, he gently lifted her (she noticed his breath didn’t even hitch, he did it embarrassingly easily) and placed her on the floor.
The height difference was astounding. “Um thanks”.
They were both so awkward it was ridiculous. He told her he was thinking of volunteering, and also considering getting a dog for his sister. She gave him a form, and talked to him about dogs. And although it started off awkwardly, they were soon having a really good conversation. Clarke was enjoying herself. Enjoying socialising. It was refreshing.
By the time Bellamy (she learnt his name about 10 minutes after the bath debacle and she loved it, unique just like hers), shuffled out of the door her clothes were nearly dry, and she felt lighter than she had in weeks.
She had a feeling she would be seeing him again, and she couldn’t wait.