I was both excited and scared beyond belief.
“Please,” I pleaded with God. “Don’t let this end badly again. I’m begging you.”
I looked down at my hands and realised I was holding my phone. I must have grabbed it when I left the kitchen to see Risk out without realising. My hands were a little unsteady as I tapped on the screen, clicked into my messages and tapped onto Risk’s name. It was his old phone number and nobody but Oath knew of a secret I had been keeping.
A few years ago, my therapist, before I stopped seeing her, suggested keeping a journal to express my feelings. I found a better coping mechanism to help me breathe through the pain of missing Risk . . . I sent text messages to his old number every so often, pretending that he got them. I talked to him and while I knew it was kind of crazy, it helped me focus my emotions.
I scrolled through the hundreds of messages I had sent Risk over the years. They varied in length from paragraphs to mere a handful of words. I almost couldn’t believe that he was back in my life. It was so strange. He penned songs to project how he felt, I wrote message entries.
Texting Risk saved me . . . I wondered if writing songs saved him.
CHAPTER TEN
FRANKIE
Text message #1
Frankie: I’m texting your old number because I know you’ll never see this message, but typing it out and getting it off my chest and sending it to ‘you’ will hopefully make me feel better. My therapist recommended it. My fucking therapist, Risk. I still can’t believe I pay someone to listen to me talk about the things that keep me awake at night. My mum made my first appointment and though I didn’t want to go, I’m so glad I did.
Maybe talking to ‘you’ will be my new thing instead of talking to the therapist and I’ll save myself a few quid in the long run. This will be like my venting vice until someone gets this number and tells me to piss off. I’m supposed to message ‘you’ and tell you what is on my mind whenever things get hard for me.
Funny? Nah. Pathetic? Hell yeah.
I haven’t seen you in exactly ten months and nothing has changed here, but I know everything has changed for you. Blood Oath being signed to an actual record label is all anyone can talk about in Southwold. You guys are already legends here as far as we’re concerned. I heard you guys dropped a new single for the upcoming album you are working on. Mum told me she read that it went to number one on the Billboard Hot 100. That is huge, Risk. Huge. I’m so happy for you and the guys, I mean that with my whole heart. I wear my earphones everywhere I go just so I don’t hear your voice by accident. I don’t listen to the radio anymore. I’m afraid that if I hear your voice, something inside of me will shatter.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #39
Frankie: I woke up today and I forgot that everything was different. For a few seconds, I thought you were still my boyfriend and that when I rolled over, I would see your handsome face on the pillow next to me. When I remembered that we broke up and you moved away, it felt like a kick in the teeth.
I did a silly thing after you left, you know?
You left one of your hoodies here by mistake when you collected your things and I put it inside one of those airtight bags to keep your smell safe. I’ve opened it twice, just for a few seconds, so I could inhale your scent. I have it sealed up tight because I’m so scared the smell will disappear one day. I miss it so much. I miss you so much. The reality that you’re gone from my life is breaking me, but I know it’s all for the best. You couldn’t stay in Southwold and I can’t leave. It’s what’s meant to be, but it still fucking hurts.
Keep chasin’, rock star.
Text message #73
Frankie: I didn’t think talking to ‘you’ would be worth my while, but it’s actually helping me. It’s been fifteen months since I last saw or spoke to you. Today I’m missing you really badly and I have to send this message to get this off my chest. It’s crazy but I’ve started to notice that I don’t feel as sad as I did when you first left and that’s really good, Risk.
There were weeks where I wouldn’t get out of bed after you left. Missing you hurts like hell. Loving you hurts like fucking hell. I have hope though, like there is light at the end of this dark tunnel I’m walking through. One day I’ll be able to listen to your songs and see you on TV and I’ll think, ‘Get ’em, Risk.’ Until that day, I’m just going to keep doing this for my sanity’s sake.