"Enya—"
"I said it's done, Ciara."
She holds up her hands."Alright.But if you wanna talk?—"
"I don't."
"Fair enough."
She moves away, and I'm left alone with my thoughts again.The bar fills up as evening approaches, and I throw myself into work.Pour faster, smile harder, chat more.Anything to keep from thinking.
But Tank's there anyway.In the back of my mind.Under my skin.The way he looked at me.The way he touched me.The way his voice sounded when he said my name, before he said hers.
I hate him.
I hate that I don't hate him.
I hate that part of me wants to see him again, wants to hear his explanation, wants to believe there's a reason that makes sense.
There isn't.There can't be.
He's just another man who doesn't see me.Just another disappointment.
I'm better off alone.
* * *
By the time my shift ends, I'm exhausted.Body aching.Mind numb.I grab my jacket, say goodnight to Ciara, and step out into the cool night air.
The walk home is quiet.Streets mostly empty, just the occasional car passing, the distant sound of music from a pub down the road.I keep my head down, hands in my pockets, thoughts spiraling.
What am I doing?
Working shite jobs, raising Warren alone with mam helping sometimes, barely scraping by.Is this it?Is this all there is?
I should be grateful.I am grateful.Warren's healthy.We're safe.We have a roof over our heads and food on the table.That's more than some people have.
But there's a loneliness that lives in my chest, heavy and constant.A longing for something more.Something I can't even name.
I thought maybe, for a few hours last night, I'd found it.I found someone who saw me.Who wanted me.Who made me feel like I was more than just a tired single mam trying to keep it together.
But I was wrong.
I'm always wrong about men.
Declan taught me that.And Tank just reinforced the lesson.
By the time I reach my building, I'm close to tears again.I take the stairs slowly, unlock my door, and step inside.
The flat's dark.Quiet.Warren's at a sleepover with his cousin, where mam’s babysitting.I'd forgotten.
I'm alone.
The realization hits harder than it should.I drop my keys on the table, sink onto the couch, and let my head fall back against the cushions.
I don't cry, too tired even for that.I just sit there in the dark, feeling hollow.
I close my eyes, trying to will away the ache in my chest.
