Herophine - Short Stories

Confused By After (3)

I can't believe how close I came to dying. If Felix hadn't found me I would have been a goner. The idea of dying so young is daunting in itself. I have a lot of ticks to mark from my bucket list before I go anywhere, right now I haven’t achieved half of what I hope to during my life. Death wasn’t a thought in my head when I leapt into that lake but I fully understand the danger I put myself in now, fucking prick that I am. Jo ensured I got the full breakdown of reasons why it was a ridiculous idea and I hate to admit she has a good few points on the matter.

The idea of not seeing my family or jo again is one I don’t like to dwell on, it makes my chest ache at how much upset I could have caused if that day ended differently but one thing I can't seem to shake is how much I enjoyed the tranquil surroundings in the woods, the quietness and the beauty nature has to offer us when we really detach from the hustle and bustle and look closely. I loved how my mind was able to rest that day, no rushed thoughts like usual, like time stopped in a sense.

'Hero, are you listening to me?' says the sharp tone of my Mother down the phone line.

'Yes, yeah of course I am. 2.30pm I'll be there' I respond half interested in the tedious breakdown of arrangements for Sunday lunch which I seem to be dragged along to every week since my near death experience. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my crazy family but in my defence I see them a lot when based in London so this new found ritual dinner is becoming a pain in the ass for me and my siblings who all seem to have better plans available. 

'Ok son, see you Sunday. I have a surprise for you but you'll have to wait and see. Love you Hero' she softly ends the call with her motherly tone. 

A surprise, for me? I wonder what the hell she has done this time. Last time she had a surprise for me it didn’t have the intended effect she had hoped for. My Mother thought it would be great to decorate my entire room whilst I was away on a modelling trip but at the age of 18 the last thing I wanted was a Harry Potter themed room with a Dobbie the house elf painted directly beside my bed to finish off the extravagant project she took upon herself and a team of designers and artists to complete during 48 hours of me leaving the house. It was awful, comical in a sense but the look on her face when I burst into laughter told me she hoped for a warm embrace and thanks for her gesture. Safe to say Dobbie was quickly painted over and my old setting was restored. Bloody Harry Potter, what the hell was she thinking. I hope to god it isn’t anything like that surprise. 

Sunday

I drag my ass out of bed just before midday, I can’t recall the last time I slept this long but seems recovering after that ordeal is taking me longer than intended. My body is still bruised and i can't seem to rid myself of the chill I have but instead of feeling sorry for myself I make my way to the shower and turn it on as high as my body can take. After scolding myself for at least 20 minutes I feel the life seeping into me and it could actually be a good day. I say that like life is bad, it isn’t. I'm just a guy in love with a girlfriend thousands of miles away and with no end in sight for this damn virus I cant even look forward to actually seeing her anytime soon so instead I will enjoy the calls we have and try to be productive by learning the new script I have been sent for an upcoming project with Ferragamo. It will at least keep my mind busy and stop me moping around like some love sick teenage boy.

Before I can do anything I need some caffeine in my system, who even functions without coffee. I know I don’t. I make my way to the kitchen and pour a freshly brewed cup of expresso whilst perching myself at the kitchen island and scanning my emails. I want to call Jo but i know she'll be fast asleep so I opt for a text instead.