“You have to get out of bed, mate.” Paul said half-heartedly as he drew back the curtains in Ben’s bedroom, having put the breakfast Christian had made on the bedside table.
It was four days since Chloe had gone AWOL, and since Monday, the only time Ben had got out of bed was to go to the loo. He hadn’t had a bath, hadn’t changed his clothes – a very old t-shirt and boxers – and he hadn’t had a proper meal. His day consisted of sleeping, moping, and playing the same rendition of this God awful gospel choir song over and over. It was his and Chloe’s song, apparently, but it just sounded like a lot of unnecessary warbling and wailing to Paul who, along with Christian, had been co-habiting with Ben since Tuesday, when he’d taken a turn for the worse.
The rest of Saturday he’d just been really shocked about Chloe leaving, and so Paul had sat and watched ‘Notting Hill’ 15 times with him to try and take his mind off the phone call from her that was never going to come. On Sunday, Ben had woken up frantic with worry and had called everyone he knew asking if they’d seen Chloe, even if they’d never met her. Then he’d called Chloe’s parents and her best friend, making them equally as worried, before driving all the way to Chloe’s flat - just outside Wolverhampton - to see whether she was there. All the curtains were drawn and the door was locked, but Ben wasn’t satisfied that Chloe wasn’t there until he’d nearly broken the door by knocking so hard, and Paul had only just managed to stop him from breaking in. That night Ben had gone to bed and had been there ever since. Tuesday was the worst day. Ben wouldn’t stop asking Paul questions he couldn’t answer like, “What did I do wrong?” and “Why doesn’t she call?”, whilst he fended off worried phone calls from various relatives asking if they’d heard from Chloe yet. Her 16-year-old little brother had even rung threatening to kneecap Ben if he’d upset her, to which Paul calmly promised to let him know if they heard anything.
If he was honest, Paul thought everyone was totally overreacting – he was sure Chloe was totally fine and that she just needed a bit of time to herself to sort her head out. Chloe’s dad had even reported her missing to the police – what was that about?! Poor girl: give her a bit of space to breathe for God’s sake! Next they’d be organising an international manhunt! Nothing had happened except a girl taking herself away from things for a few days to get over a break-up. It was understandable that Ben was upset and everything, but really, was there any need for all this? The least he could do was have a wash! If Chloe came back now and saw the state of him, she’d be back out that door as quick as you can say “TAKE A SHOWER!!!”
Anyway, after two days of being bedridden with grief, Ben had hit an all-time low and discovered a whole new level of hopelessness. He’d re-defined the word, in fact, and it was driving Paul mad. He knew he had to be the caring friend, and he knew Ben loved Chloe a lot, but please: it was hardly the break-up of the century, was it? Paul had been through much worse, and he had never been this pathetic. Since Monday, Ben had survived entirely on a diet of ham and mushroom pizza, and Sugar Puffs. Not very manly if you asked Paul. He was all for emotions and stuff, but there comes a point where enough is enough and you have to pull yourself together. You have to get on with life! Doing nothing all day only makes it worse for yourself, and not going near soap for nearly a week makes it a lot worse for your “supportive” friends.
Talking of “supportive” – Mark had been a fat lot of use throughout all this. He was “ill”, apparently, and hadn’t so much as called to see how Ben was doing, or whether they’d heard from Chloe. Considering his history with her, Paul would have thought Mark would have cared a little more, especially with the way Ben was dramatising everything. But then maybe he shared the same sense as Paul and assumed that it was just your average break-up. Whatever: the second the words ‘bed bath’ came into the equation, Ben was all Mark’s. There was, of course, the option that Mark might be keeping out the way because he knew that this sudden split was something to do with him. Now that was something Paul was absolutely certain of. Even though the last Paul heard, Chloe had come to her senses and ended things between her and Mark, there was no way Mark was blameless in this situation. The way he’d reacted when Paul had told him that Chloe had left Ben suggested that he hadn’t known she was going to do it, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t helped to put the idea in her head. Maybe Chloe was lying low for a while until things died down a bit so she could re-make her move on Mark. Maybe Paul should be calling Mark to see if he’d heard from Chloe! Ohh, life was too short, and after two nights sharing the living room floor with Christian, Paul felt too rough to care that much. His neck really hurt!
“Has she called?” Ben asked feebly, rubbing his over-rested eyes.
“No, mate.” Paul said, handing Ben a cup of coffee. “Sorry.”
“Have you tried ringing her again?”
Paul thought that the best thing for all concerned would be for Ben to give Chloe a little bit of time, and then when she finally rang him to explain why she’d felt the need to leave so suddenly they could sort it out between themselves. There was no need to involve so many people, and if Ben kept calling Chloe – which he had been doing non-stop – he was only going to push her further away. Of course, Ben didn’t see it like that, but that was because his despair and self-pity had overridden any sense of rationality or logic he had previously possessed.
“It just rings and rings – she’s not answering.” Paul said.
And never will, he thought, if you don’t leave her alone.
Chloe obviously had her reasons for not wanting to see Ben – could he not see that he was only making things worse by continually hassling her? He was coming across as clingy and possessive, and girls hated that, especially those who didn’t want to see their boyfriend in the first place! When Chloe wanted to talk to Ben, Paul had every faith that she was more than capable of picking up the phone. All Ben could do was wait, but Paul was beginning to wonder whether he’d ever heard of the concept. He’d never known someone so impatient! Well, apart from Mark with waiting for the cinema to open so he could go and see ‘Toy Story 2’ five billion times, but that was because he was a freak.
“Why didn’t she say goodbye, Paul?” Ben moaned, head buried in a pillow.
“I don’t know.” Paul said irritably. “Ben, for God’s sake, will you please have a shower?”
Before I force a bar of soap down your throat, he added in his head.
“Owwwwmmmm.” Ben moaned, rolling over and pulling the covers closer to him.
Eurgh, he was just a big disgusting lump. Yuk.
“Get out of bed!” Paul tried to encourage Ben.
“She doesn’t want me.” Ben said sadly.
“I’m not bloody surprised at the moment!” Paul said, trying to resist the urge to pull the duvet off Ben and throw a bucket of cold soapy water over him.
“Whyyyy?” Ben asked his alarm clock pathetically.
Paul just sighed as Christian came into the room.
“Just spoken to Mark.” He said.
“Let me guess – still ill?” Paul asked.
He now realised that it wasn’t life that got him down, it was his bloody “friends”!
“Yeah. He doesn’t sound very house-bound, though.”
“It’s a mental illness.” Paul said, reluctantly turning his attentions back to Ben. “Do you need anything?”
Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Paul was too quick for him.
“Except Chloe.”
“Or mind-altering drugs.” Christian added.
“They’d be easier to get.” Paul sighed. “This is doing my head in.” He said to Christian, lowering his voice.
“I miss herrrrr.” Ben complained. “I want her back.”
“We know you do.” Christina said.
“Find her for me.” Ben said. “Please. Bring her back.”
“She’s not a lost dog, Ben. What if she doesn’t want to come back?” Paul asked.
“Yet.” Christian added hastily, seeing Ben’s distressed expression.
“I don’t care! I just want to know she’s okay!” Ben wailed.
“I’m sure she’s fine!” Paul said. “She probably just needs some time to herself.”
“Will you go to her flat?" Ben asked.
Paul raised his eyebrows. “Again?”
“She might be there! Please?” Ben begged, looking every bit the desperate man.
“But she’s not answering the phone…” Paul reminded him.
“Please, Paul!”
Paul sighed. “Fine. I will go and see if she’s at the flat, again.”
Ben attempted a pathetic smile, which was totally lost on Paul. “Thank you.”
Paul and Christian left the room.
“Call me if you find anything!” Ben shouted after them.
“Yes, Ben!” Paul shouted back through gritted teeth. “He owes me… everything!” he said to Christian.
“Oh come on, have some sympathy for the poor guy.”
“I do have sympathy! I just don’t think he’s doing himself any favours, that’s all.”
“He can’t help it.”
“I know. Going to track Chloe down, aren’t I?”
“Do you think you’ll find her?”
“No.” Paul confessed. “But I’ll try anyway. Like you said: he’s a mate.”
Several hours later, Paul was parking his car on the side of the road outside the block of flats Chloe lived in. She lived on the second floor, and so before he entered the building, Paul walked around the outside, checking for any variation in the drawn curtains. There were still no lights on, and the curtains were all still shut. It really didn’t look like anyone was there, but just to be sure Paul got his mobile out and called Chloe’s land line. As was becoming increasingly normal, it just rang and rang. Concluding that Chloe was elsewhere, and he’d had a wasted journey, Paul was about to go when he noticed a small window open. Counting up the floors and round the rooms, Paul worked out that, as far as he could tell, the window was one of Chloe’s. He’d seen it open, and they didn’t do that on their own, so she must be in there!
Running round the front and darting through the main doors behind someone who’d just gone in, Paul leapt up the steps two at a time before finding himself in the second floor corridor. He followed the door numbers round until he got to 219, and banged on the door.
“Chloe!” he shouted. “Chloe! I know you’re in there!”
There was no answer and no sound of any movement from inside, so Paul tried again.
“Chloe, it’s Paul! Open the door!”
Nothing.
“I’m on my own – Ben’s not with me! I just want to make sure you’re alright!”
Still nothing.
“I’m gonna stay here until you let me in!” Paul said, lessening the volume of his voice before the neighbours complained. “I just want to check that you’re okay and then I’ll go! Ben’s really worried about you!”
There was still no word from Chloe, and Paul began to debate what to do next. Now he knew Chloe was here, he couldn’t go without speaking to her, but if she couldn’t let him in what could he do? Just keep shouting at her from the other side of a wall?
“Clo, come on – I’m your friend! Whatever’s happened, I’m on your side!” Paul said, trying to convince Chloe that he wasn’t here to give her a lecture. “I don’t want to bug you, I know you need your space, but if you need someone to talk to, y’know, I’m here!”
Paul thought he heard the creak of a door from inside Chloe’s flat, but he wasn’t sure.
“I know this is something to do with Mark! You can tell me – I want to help!” Paul said, on the verge of giving up.
There was a click, the jangle of a door chain and then the door swung open.
Paul almost gasped at what he saw before him. It was Chloe, but it wasn’t. She looked absolutely terrible. She was wearing an oversized nightie that hung loosely around her knees, her skin was a pale grey colour, and there were uneven red blotches covering her thin arms. Her face was gaunt, like she hadn’t eaten for days, her eyes were red and puffy with dark bags underneath them, and wet straggly hair dripped down her back. She stared right through Paul, like he wasn’t even there, and she just looked like a ghost.
“Jesus.” Paul breathed, feeling way out of his depth all of a sudden. “Chloe?”
The broken person before him blinked slowly and flicked her eyes up to meet his. There was nothing there: all the life and sparkle had gone, and in their place, nothing. As Chloe stared blankly at him, Paul wasn’t even sure she knew who he was. Then her empty eyes filled up with tears and she collapsed into his arms.
Holding Chloe’s limp, frail body gently against him, Paul entered the flat and closed the door behind him. He noticed a strong smell of bleach in the air and, despite her appearance, Chloe smelled very distinctly of soap. Her whole body was shaking as she sobbed silently into Paul’s shoulder. There was only one thought in his mind: what the hell was going on?!
“Okay, it’s alright, it’s okay.” He said soothingly, rubbing Chloe’s back.
He managed to manoeuvre her onto the sofa, where he sat her down. She flopped against the back of the sofa, emotionlessness crowding her face. She was shivering, so the first thing Paul decided to do was get her a blanket, or something. He had so many questions, but now was not the time.
“I’ll be right back, okay? You stay here.” Paul said, getting no response from Chloe and going to find the bedroom.
The first thing he came across was Chloe’s duvet, so he picked it up and took it back to her, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling the ends over to party cover her legs. Then he went over to the window and opened the curtains, feeling the radiator underneath the sill to see if the heating was on. Finding it stone cold, he went into the kitchen, located the boiler and pressed the heating advance button. Then he went back into the sitting room to turn the radiator on. Chloe was still where he’d left her, looking small and vulnerable wrapped in the duvet. Paul glanced at her before going back into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He was scared. Scared about what had happened, scared about why Chloe was in this state, and scared about what to do next. He thought it was probably best to get her warm and fed before he tried to find out what and why. He didn’t want to crowd her, didn’t want to upset her, but he did need to know what was going on.
As the kettle boiled, Paul found coffee, sugar, milk and a spoon. Going through the cupboards to find a mug, Paul came across a large black bin liner, stuffed full of something, pushed to the back. He pulled it out, opened the top, and looked in puzzlement at the contents: Chloe’s mobile, mascara, lip balm, nail varnish, a bracelet, tops, trousers and two pairs of shoes. Paul frowned. That was very odd. Putting the bag on the side, Paul carried on looking for a mug. He found one as the kettle clicked off, and made Chloe a coffee. Making sure it wasn’t too hot, he took it over and put it on the table in front of her.
“I made you a coffee.” Paul said. “You’ll feel better if you drink it.”
Chloe didn’t show any indication of having heard him; she just sat there, zombie-like, staring straight ahead.
“Clo?” Paul said, and she slowly turned her head towards him. “Coffee.” he said, pointing to the steaming cup.
Chloe followed his gaze and blinked at the coffee sitting on the table.
“Do you want it?” Paul asked gently.
Chloe looked back at him and nodded ever so slightly.
Paul smiled with relief and handed the cup to her. Chloe took it, but Paul kept a hand underneath it as she took tiny, hesitant sips, just in case she dropped it.
“Are you hungry?” Paul asked as she drank.
Chloe shook her head slightly.
“Have you eaten today?” Paul asked.
Chloe didn’t answer.
“You must be starving.” Paul said, taking his hand away from the coffee cup and standing up. “If I make you something, will you eat it?”
Chloe didn’t answer.
“I’m a great cook!” Paul said, trying to get a smile out of Chloe. “Used to be a chef! Well, sort of.”
There was still no reaction from, Chloe, so Paul gave up and went into the kitchen. He looked through all the cupboards again and decided that a four-course meal probably wasn’t the best idea for someone who hadn’t eaten in God knows how long. Plain noodles always served Paul well when he had a hangover, and so they were obviously quite gentle on the stomach. He boiled a pan of water, added the noodles and stirred them until they’d soaked up all the water. Then he tipped them onto a plate, got a fork and a glass of water, and took them back in to Chloe.
“Noodles.” Paul said, offering the plate to her.
Chloe just looked at them.
“They’re really gentle on your stomach.” Paul added hopefully.
Chloe shook her head slowly.
“Please, Chloe. You’ve gotta eat something. You’ll die if you don’t eat.”
“Good.” Chloe croaked quietly.
Paul didn’t know whether to be happy that she’d spoken, or concerned about what she’d said.
“Don’t say things like that.” Paul said.
Chloe didn’t say anything.
“Please try and eat something.” Paul said. “You don’t have to have these – you can have anything you want.”
Chloe shook her head.
“Noodles are really nice.” Paul said, wondering how he was ever going to get her to open up if he couldn’t even get her to eat.
“I don’t want to.” Chloe said.
Her voice was quiet and cracked. It was an accurate reflection of her appearance.
“Why?” Paul asked.
“Feel sick.” Chloe said.
“It’s probably because you haven’t eaten!”
“Coz I’m disgusting.” Chloe said, so quietly that Paul wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
“Please, just have one mouthful and I’ll stop bugging you.” Paul said.
Reluctantly, Chloe picked up the fork with unsteady fingers and gingerly put the smallest “mouthful” ever into her mouth.
Paul smiled. “Do you feel better?” he asked.
Chloe shook her head and started to cry, and Paul’s smile faded as he put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her.
“Oh Clo, what’s going on?” he said sadly. “How’ve you got into his state?”