Ambivert (noun): a person who has a balance of extrovert and introvert features in their personality.

Then

Montana

I've been gone for awhile now. I'm here but not really, not quite. My family doesn't know that I took out the batteries from the smoke detector so that I wouldn't have to tell them our house has been burning for years.

The pictures on the wall aren't the only things that shake every time a door bangs closed when they leave. I've lost count of the times everyone's left in anger. I've lost count of the times no one's asked me why I have become just another spine of the many books that go unread, collecting dust on the shelves while we collect reasons to hate each other.

When I think about all that has happened to me it's this deep magnitude of sadness where I've been wading through the thick clutches of the waves for almost an eternity.

I have these days, these moments...where nothing good can get through the fog that wraps its tendrils around me from time to time. Do you think when being abused at a young age, you think about how those days will forever haunt you as an adult? How you never thought someone who drank the fake tea you made for them in the little porcelain teacups would become a predator? How you would be a woman one day, sitting miles away from home but still stuck in those creaky walls of your childhood nightmare.

Love had recently begun to squeeze its way in through the bruises. And it aches so much. It starts from the places I least expect it and goes to the places that have been empty for years. I didn't even know that they were empty until Calum.

He smoked his way in. His breath clawing at my bruises and pushing them away from me. But I should have known they never leave, not really. You can make all the jokes in the world, you can sleep with all the boys and girls and consume all that fucking liquor but it will always come back to you.

Calum. That boy at the station today looked so much like him I stared at the spot where he was waiting for the trains, long after he had walked away and the trains were pulling up at stations two cities away.

I still regret leaving him in the rain, or when he left me. It hurts too much to think about the details of it. It aches. And I worry it'll never stop. That I'll always be angry at him for letting me feel love and not like myself for once. A bruised child who took the batteries out of the smoke detectors.

"I'm letting you go, it's what you want. So I'm letting you go."

Was it what I wanted? I had always wanted to be like the wind, to blow over a city and stay for awhile. But not long enough for anything to breathe me in and keep me there and teach me that stability leads to a home, to love.

I had worked so hard on this hardened skin that I built and built and built. He got under it so easily and I stay awake at night, haunted by the idea that he might not be the only one. What if all these years everyone's seen through my facade? Do they know I'm not as funny? Not as brave or as impulsive? That no, I am not in control.

"Montana?"

I remove the lip of the champagne glass from my mouth and hide my face. "What is it, Gia?"

"Your birthday celebrations? What are you still doing in your robes? We need to get going." She looks around the hotel room like she's walked into a pigsty.

I wipe a sleeve over my eyes and look up at her, smiling. "I don't feel that well."

"You've finished half the champagne bottle so yeah you won't feel much like sunshine and rainbows." She takes the bottle away and I cringe internally. I would tackle her to the floor until she gave it back if I wasn't so comfortable on this bed and under these blankets.

"You're the worst assistant, you know that?"

"Yes well, I happen to be in charge of getting you places on time and you don't like to corporate so I have to be this utter bitch to you when really all I want to do is blow everything off and sulk too!" She groans loudly at the end for effect and places her hands on her hips like she's angry. She's never angry with me, annoyed yes but never angry.

I really must have had too much champagne because a giggle bubbles up my throat and then I'm laughing hysterically and crying hysterically and Gia is laughing too and we are late, again.

---

The thing with birthday parties is that everyone wants to give you attention because they feel bad but really they would rather keel over and die. And it gets worse as you get older and the crowd gets more...posh? It's taking "fake it till you make it" to a whole new level.

You can't go wild on the dance floor or throw glitter everywhere and kick in a piñata like you did on your sixteenth birthday. You're twenty-one now, a legal adult with shit to do in life. So you smile politely and drink everything because you finally can.

The problem with being me is, everyone knows I talk a lot, I am the social butterfly. No one social butterflies more than I social butterfly. And surprise surprise, I'm actually genuine about it. I like talking to people and being with people and making everyone happy. But at the end of the night, I'm miserable. Because even the social butterflies have a limit to how much they can say "oh my god, that's so cool!"

"You're an ambivert," Calum said once.

As soon as the thought of him pops into my head I raise my voice and talk faster. Filling my head with everyone's nuisance.

I hadn't wanted this party because no one I loved was going to be here. No one could make it to Milan on such short notice and management was adamant about throwing me the biggest bash ever. To show the world that yes, Montana Cases has gotten over her broken heart! She is now back to being the party animal she was! Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

They got so many things wrong I don't know why I let such a bunch of twats plan out my professional career and now my life. I'm far from a party animal. They would know that if they bothered to lift their noses from the perfectly planned out schedules and gave me some real attention.

I'm lead to a table full of arrogant, dapperly dressed men who eye me like I'm a prostitute being offered to them. One of them gives me a diamond necklace and a kiss on the cheek that is dangerously close to my lips. I hand off the necklace to Gia. Her eyes widen when I tell her to keep it.

"For being the worst assistant, of course." She rolls her eyes at me and we head for the next table. Pleasantries are made for a good hour until I feel as though the heel of my shoe will pierce right through my skin. At one point I skip two tables altogether but stop to go back because I feel extra bitter towards the world today and I'm not like this. Mamma wouldn't be proud.

A cake is wheeled in front of me by the staff and I'm certain one of the sparkling candles almost burns off a lock of my hair. I'll hear about it from my hairdresser tomorrow.

I cut the cake, eat the cake, kiss cheeks, hug people and grab a bottle of champagne and head out the door. I don't remember how I make my way up to the rooftop but I do. Rooftops are like my calling, I'll find one anywhere.

I lay the bottle on the concrete ledge with a clank and take in a deep breath. Another year. Gone. Can't say it's been a bad one. I've fallen in love. I've landed my dream job. I've had my heart broken. I've almost lost my job...or I will. I mean, someone's going to realize soon enough that I despise everything and fire me.

I pull off the cork and let the froth spill all over before I take a sip, shaking my hair out. My dress is gold and shimmers in the night like a beacon for all the wrong people.

As soon as I set the bottle down my phone starts to ring and my heart leaps into my throat for a second. It stays there for longer than a second when I see who it is. it's been three months since I've seen this name on my lock screen. I answer before I can lodge the phone off the roof.

I search for what to say, do I say hi? hello? Calum?

"Hi. I didn't think you would...answer." My resolve falters at the sound of his voice. He's heavily drunk. But so am I so I can't tell if he really is or if it's just me.

"Calum." My eyes have closed and I can no longer see the city. I'm with him, wherever he is, seeing his face and the way his bottom lip moves trying to find the words he wants to say. A bottle clutched in his other hand and the glass resting against his forehead.

"Please don't say my name. You know what that does to me."

I sink to the floor, stretching out my legs and placing the cold bottle of champagne between my thighs. "I won't."

"I...called to say Happy Birthday. Can I still call you to say Happy Birthday? Because I still fucking love you."

This time when I feel light headed I know it's not the alcohol. I still love you too.

"Hello?" he laughs at the other end and I tell myself to say it out loud. Tell him you love him.

But half way through gathering my wits to say it, the phone makes a muffled sound on the other end. "Calum, who you callin' baby? Come back to bed." I wonder if that was me. If my brain was hay wiring and I was telling him to come back to bed.

He says something back and it's not to me.

"Fuck you, Calum." I don't hear any response before I stand up again, rear my arm back and fling the phone into the night. I listen for a smash but I'm too up high in the air to hear where it lands. I hope it's broken into the tiniest bits of pieces.

Do you love someone if you call to tell them that on their birthday while you're sleeping with someone else? I stand on that rooftop until I can't anymore an until I'm shaking and angry and there's no room to feel sorry for myself or for him tonight.

I stumble back to the party, drink everything I can, dance with everyone, sing everything, smile till I feel like I've lost my teeth and throw up the memories before I sleep. Happy Birthday.

A/N:

Sorry, I know its the holidays and this was rather depressing lol. How was your Christmas? What did you get? Hope your holidays are filled with love and happiness.

Love you lots,

Rythma x