“Yes, now”. I hate the way he says it, cold and distant. As if I was his nosy mother. I take a breath but before I can shout at him he turns around, gets into his silver BMW and speeds away. I watch him leave, angry and hurt. Suddenly I feel a cold breeze on my bare skin and a shiver runs down my spine. What's going on? The sensation has nothing to do with my stupid boyfriend, it’s the feeling of being watched that raises goose bumps on my skin. Nervously my hand clenches my keys but I force myself to look round. The trees, the bushes along the street, everything is quiet. Is that a shadow under the birch? I catch my breath and bite my lower lip. No, nothing, just a figment of my overactive imagination. Or a cat. I guess I watch too many horror movies. Finally I open the door and run up the stairs to my flat, switch on every light and sit down on the couch, heart still pounding. This is my home, my shelter, the place I love most in the world. Nobody and nothing can hurt me here. My father pays the rent but I chose and bought every piece of furniture when I moved in a year ago when I started university. It was my first step towards independence and I couldn’t wait to leave home.
Yawning I undress and throw my clothes onto the pile collecting on the floor. I dressed in a hurry before my date with Ralph and all the discarded clothes still litter every surface. Maybe it’s a good thing that Ralph didn’t stay, he’s the tidiest person I know and would have a fit in here. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and wince. My tummy was a lot flatter before this summer’s barbecues. Ralph wouldn’t like that. He always warns me that I have to be very slim because I’m so short. Actually, I’m not that short, I think he just wants to tease me. What really gets to me is that I’m not only small but look like a fifteen-year-old, although I turned twentyone in February. Last week the doorman at a club wanted to see my ID, ridiculous really. Maybe I should cut my hair in a sleek bob? My long auburn locks and the freckles do look a bit childish. And my mouth is way too big. On closer inspection I don’t like myself at all. There are even dark shadows under my eyes, which are my only decent feature. Ralph describes them as amber when he’s in a good mood. With a sigh I turn away from the mirror. Ralph. I need to speak to him tomorrow. About the future, about us. He has to tell me what's up even if I don’t want to hear it. I just can’t go on like this.
The bleep of my phone wakes me up. Who on earth could be sending a text on a Sunday at ten in the morning? Maybe Ralph, I can’t help thinking hopefully. But glancing at the phone I sigh: it’s my sister Sophie. “I’m so sorry, if you want to talk, call me.” What’s all that about? Sorry about what? I haven’t seen her for three weeks although we live in the same city and I’ve never been very close to her. What does she want from me now? She must have sent this message to the wrong number. I decide to ignore her text, take a carton of orange juice from the fridge and switch on my laptop. Maybe Ralph has emailed me. Maybe to apologise for last night and his sudden departure. Maybe there is a message saying that he loves me. He could ask me – no, there’s no email. Only a few spams and one from Facebook that Martha has sent me a message. Martha is Ralph’s sister-in-law, what could she want? “Bear up, you were always too good for him.” Dread courses through my body and suddenly I’m wide awake. Martha couldn’t mean – could she? Quickly I log into my Facebook account.
Name: Livia Forner
Networks: none
Sex: female
Birthday: 19 February 1988
Family: Sophie Forner (sister)
Relationship status: in a relationship with Ralph Tanner
Interested in: Ralph, Roman history, English literature, dogs
Looking for: happiness
Contact : emaiclass="underline" livia88@yahoo.com
Schooclass="underline" university for mathematics and chemistry, language institute
Friends: 17
News feed: Ralph Tanner is single again. Livia – don’t call me
Likes: 7
I stare at the screen until the letters start to swim before my eyes. Everything in me has gone numb and my brain switches off trying to suppress any feelings. What idiots have clicked on “Like”? It feels like a bad dream. I close my eyes, but it doesn’t go away. I try to take a breath but it catches in my throat. Eventually I’m able to inhale. I shake my head. No, it has to be a mistake, or a stupid prank by one of his friends. He couldn’t end it just like that. Not on Facebook. In a panic I click on his profile.
Relationship status: single.
Early this morning, probably coming home from a club, he uploaded several photos where he looked definitely single, surrounded by girls. Ten months of my life, erased with a click. And he didn’t even have the decency to send me a personal message but had to post it. What a dick!
I first met Ralph last winter, in his fifth year at university. He is training to be a doctor and has the typical good looks. You know, blonde god in white. He just bowled me over, calling and texting endlessly, sending flowers – I'd never had flowers from a guy before. Little presents followed, dinners, it was old-fashioned but incredibly nice. I’m really kind of old-fashioned myself and fell for him immediately. The first months were perfect. Ralph is very popular and has lots of friends, unlike me, and we were invited everywhere. During this time I felt I was a part of him and his life. But when spring came he started to get moody and impatient. First I thought it was because of all the pressure he had during exam time but then I caught him staring at me in a very strange way. As if he wanted to talk about something very important but didn’t dare. Now I know how stupid I’ve been: I was so excited because I thought he wanted us to move in together. Or maybe he might even propose? But obviously he was wondering all the time how to break up with me.
My phone rings but I ignore it, as the number is not Ralph’s. Then I stare at it and hesitate. He wrote that I shouldn’t call him but surely he couldn’t have meant it? It was early in the morning, maybe he was drunk. What do I do? Nothing as usual? Fight for him? I’m not a fighting kind of girl, when something goes wrong I usually go to bed and pretend to be dead. But ten months are too long a time to give up so easily. With shaking fingers I dial and hit call.
”Oh, it’s you," he mumbles like it’s the most absurd thing in the world for me to call him. But he sounds neither guilty nor awkward. For one second I’m just happy that he picked up but the next I’m aware of how desperate that is. I hesitate and clear my throat.
“I’ve just seen your Facebook message,” I begin and stop because suddenly I don’t know what to say. Ralph yawns loudly. I can see his face before me, the tousled blonde hair and the strong white teeth.
“I thought that would be the easiest way to let you know, like without much fuss.” His picture vanishes and I feel hot anger boiling up.
“And very publicly too!” I shout back.
“Livia, stop it!” he interrupts calmly. “It‘s all over. You’re a nice girl but the situation was much too intense and stressful. You’re incredibly demanding and needy, with all your problems, your weird family and your dead mother, that was simply too much for me. I’m young, I want to have my fun. You’re looking for somebody to take care of you and to replace your family, but I’m not the one.” Nice – demanding – needy - stressful – what on earth is he talking about? “And please don’t stalk me.” With this parting shot he breaks the connection. I don’t know how long I remain sitting on the bed, motionless. I can’t move, his words have left me paralysed. Needy! The humiliation! Please ground, swallow me up and let me die! When my phone rings again I hurl it against the wall.