307. - Lucien
My day starts all kinds of awful.
First of all I have an absolutely horrendous hangover, because after that disaster of an appointment with Dr Carlisle I made sure to finish that bottle of rum, because it seemed a good idea at the time. Not to mention that the alcohol very much did not numb all the emotions the day after, meaning I don't only feel miserable because of my hangover but also because everything going on in my head.
When I go to make coffee, I find that I'm out of it.
When I go to make my smoothie, I find that I'm out of spinach and avocado.
With no choice but skipping breakfast I go for a shower, checking my phone for the first time since waking up. Emma texted me last night, and I immediately feel guilty for having missed it. I'm halfway through my answer when I enter the bathroom and in that distraction I walk into the door that I apparently didn't open far enough.
There is a sickening crash of glass on tile, and I can only stare in horror at the remnants of what used to be my phone.
With sunglasses on and a cup of too expensive coffee in hand, I wait until the store clerk comes back to me. Luckily, with living half my life online, I usually have everything backed up and saved in multiple places so nothing has gotten lost on me, but because today wasn't yet lucky enough I was told that my memory card was damaged in the fall. In all the hectics of France, the opening of the pub and then Emma's birthday, I haven't gotten to making a proper back up. If they can't recover the memory card, all the pictures from that time will be lost on me.
I perk up when the clerk approaches me, but feel myself slump down again when I see his expression.
"I'm sorry, sir. It is recoverable, but it's going to take some time. If you come back at the end of the day..."
"Fine," I wave a hand, not wanting to hear his apologies. "Just... make quick of it."
"Of course, sir. We'll make sure your phone is running entirely before you come to pick it up. Did you want the same model?"
I'm about to say yes, but stop myself and shrug. "What the hell. Upgrade it to the newest model while you're at it."
I spend the day strolling through the city and doing some shopping, which is long overdue. The past eights months I have practically lived in suits, and besides that I haven't bought much new clothing. I hit up all my favourite stores and pick up just about anything I like. There's a lot of button-ups, a few new jackets and pairs of jeans and more shoes than I probably need, but a long time ago Gabriel and I used to do quite a few fashion shoots and I wouldn't mind getting back into that. I also finally get a haircut, and while it's still long enough to fit in a bun, it's not as unkempt anymore. While I'm at it, I also get to the barber and get my beard the treatment it deserves.
I'm very tempted to buy another present for Emma, something like a bracelet to go with her ring, but I refrain, because... Well, I'm not sure. We'd have the usual squable about me spending money on her, but she'd appreciate it anyway. But for some reason it just doesn't feel... right, so I don't. I do try to find a birthday present for Eschieve's birthday, but without much luck. I just don't know her well enough to do it properly, and getting her another Porsche seems excessive.
Then, after doing groceries and making sure my pantries are stocked again, it's finally go back to the phone store and pick my phone up. As promised, it's ready to go and after paying the hefty price, I head back home.
I order in and pour myself a nice glass of wine, but also tell myself that I won't finish the bottle because these days are not for hanging around and I can't afford another hangover. I'm playing music over the speakers, which I haven't done in forever because Emma usually picks the playlists. I enjoy what she picks, but it's good to listen to my own tunes again. I try to decide what I'm going to do with my evening when my phone chimes. With a rush of horror I realise I've never texted back Emma, or that we've talked at all today. With a dumpling between my teeth, I text back.
Only a piece of me died - my phone made a fatal trip to the tiles of the bathroom floor. Your day sounds a lot worse though, if that's what you have to witness. Would love to have you for dinner, but tuna oil is prohibited in the building. I love you, too. L.
I want to say it's not as bad as it sounds, but it really is. I won't bring the oil tomorrow. I fear it might attract demons anyway.
I instead suggest a mozzarella chicken bake with roasted veggies, and promise that I'll do the groceries and the cooking, which prompts her to ask if I'm okay.
Perfectly fine. But we can't adhere to traditional gender roles too much now, can we? It's been a while since I cooked, let's check if I can still do it at all.
I tell her to have fun with Kenna and to tell her and Tom hi from me, which she promises to do, and that's where we leave our conversation. It leaves me feeling a little sad. I miss her. I've gotten so used to her being around me all the time. I used to be great at being alone, because despite spending a lot of time with Brie and Matthew, in the end I'd always come home alone. This place doesn't feel as home as much without Emma being around. But this is going to be the new normal, with my new schedule, so I'd better get used to it. So I turn my music on a little louder, put away all my new clothes and purge a good amount of old ones to be donated, and then decide to do something else that I haven't done for fun in a long time. Not long after the entire house smells of the caramel bubbling away on the stove and am I elbows deep into the dough for my tarte-a-tin, while the dough for a gorgeous loaf of bread is proofing in the corner.
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