Chapter Thirteen

Sundays should be a day of rest, but not for me. After only managing to get three hours sleep, I am sadly up and already working on the interview. I really want to show Dex something productive tomorrow. Transcribing what's been said on my dictaphone is wholeheartedly bittersweet. Listening to the many recordings of Rhys's voice has me realising just how much I will miss him. It wasn't until I listened to those recordings, that I could hear the chemistry between us. The ease of many of our conversations, the rise and fall of the natural laughter that we shared, the openness on his part and the curiosity on mine. Then there was the endless banter. The sarcastic, the fun, the annoying, the flirty banter. He could have me wanting to hit him one minute, hug him the next. For me, Rhys Ryan was no longer this complicated pop star. Now, he's a complicated human being. A being who somehow managed to crawl beneath my skin. I am annoyed with myself for letting it even happen. I am even more furious with my heart, for letting him creep inside of it. Although you could say that my heart did have a very good alibi. I was trying so hard to keep Rhys Ryan from out of my mind, I stupidly left my heart unguarded. Unprotected against him, it simply stood no chance at all. I have always thought of myself as a pretty astute and intelligent person, but it would seem that my heart knew things before I ever did. Oh my days! I really think I need the antidote to this guy.

No good will ever come from liking him, no good at all.

It's also no good me worrying about it now. I have important work to do.

There is absolutely no time to wallow and worry over things that can't be changed. Quickly tying my long hair into a messy top knot, I have determination rushing through me.

I will get this interview done.

I will get the photographs chosen.

I will stop thinking about Rhys Ryan.

Taking in a deep and calming breath, I know that I can finish what I have started here. With a little detachment from my feelings, I can absolutely do this. I promised myself that I would do Rhys justice with this ten page spread, and that is what I fully intend to do.

**

The day seamlessly rolled into the evening. It was only my hunger that made me look up into the space of my living room and notice that the night was slowly drawing in. It was the same hunger that had my head deep inside of the fridge, searching for the cooked chicken breasts that I had made a couple of days ago. Just as I am reaching in to take the plate out, my phone rings. Grabbing the phone beside my microwave, I try to make my exhausted self sound much more with it than I actually am. "Hello?"

"Hey, Clara...it's Cam."

Surprised to hear from him, my voice definitely sounds more awake now. "Hey, how are you?" I ask, bringing out the delicious chicken that my tummy so desperately needs inside of it.

"I just wanted to check that you were okay. How's that head of yours?" He sounds cheerful, thoughtful too.

Taking out a wholemeal wrap from out of its sealed packaging, I happily reply. "Oh, it's much better now." Opening my cutlery draw, I lift out a knife. "I just needed some sleep, I think. I've nearly completed my first draft of the interview, as well." I am happy to share with Cameron how far I have got on the interview as I am cutting up some of the chicken on the chilled plate.

"Already?" He asks in a higher than usual tone of voice.

Chuckling, I answer. "Yup! I'm a little sleep deprived and absolutely famished, but I think the interview is nearly there."

"So when you said you needed some sleep, some was all you had?" His voice is light and enquiring.

"Oh yes!" I laugh, opening the fridge door to take out the cucumber and the mayo. "Are you packing?" I ask with the chopping of the cucumber now echoing down the line.

"Not yet, though I should be." Cam laughs. "Are you chopping or killing something?" He jokes, unable to ignore my loud and quick chopping action. The quicker I chop, the quicker everything goes into the waiting wrap.

Lining up the sliced cucumber across the delicious chunks of chicken, I answer him with a smile. "Definitely chopping, I'm starving." Reaching across for my salt and pepper shakers, I am now ready to season the hell out of my food. "I'm just having a lovely chicken, cucumber and mayo wrap." I brag, knowing that it's going to taste sooooo yummy when I finally get to eat it.

"Who am I to interrupt Clara Thorn from eating her chicken, cucumber and mayo wrap?" I hear Cam laugh down the line, before another voice can be heard distantly somewhere else in the room with him.

"Is that Clara?" The voice becomes clearer because it's now nearer to the phone and to Cameron—it's Rhys.

"Yeah, it is." Cam coolly answers him. There is then a suffocating pause, one that just seems to go on and on and on. "Why, do you want a word?" Cameron eventually asks.

"No." Comes Rhys's emotionless reply.

His footsteps can quickly be heard leaving the room, before Cam comes back on the line. "Jeez, his mood hasn't lifted yet." He groans a little, adding more. "I am not looking forward to travelling back with him, that's for sure."

Forcing a small laugh, I find myself making excuses for Rhys. "He's probably tired, just like I was yesterday."

"Yeah, probably." Cam doesn't sound entirely convinced. "Anyway, I had better let you eat something before you really do kill something." He jokes, laughing softly. "Will you email the interview over when you have it ready?"

"Of course I will." I cheerfully say whilst my wrap sits patiently upon the kitchen worktop, waiting for me to devour it. "Have a safe journey home, won't you?"

"Thanks, Clara. Take care of yourself."

"I will, Cam. It was lovely to meet you...thanks for everything."

He gently laughs. "Not as lovely as it was for me to meet you." His laughter soon fades, replaced with his final goodbye. "Call if you need anything. Bye for now." Then he is gone. He and his sweet compliment, gone.

All my attention is soon very much back onto my tasty looking wrap. Food first. Then back to finishing the interview. Then, a loooooong  hot soak in a bubble bath. Images of me submerged relaxingly in a bath soon make the bath option a much more appealing one.

Okay, tasty wrap first.

Next, a lush and bubbly bath.

Then, finish off the interview.

**

In a blissed out state, I sink my aching body down into the bubbly hot water; a sigh of contentment being expelled the deeper I sink. The heat from the water wraps itself around me and I finally feel like I am starting to relax. Beneath the frothy peaks of white, I feel like my heavy troubles might feel far more buoyant being in the bath water.

Maybe things aren't that bad?

Maybe I'm not such a terrible human being after all?

Maybe I will forget about those Rhys Ryan kisses?

Maybe I will forget about him?

Completely submerging myself right under the water, I admit a watery defeat. Who am I kidding? No amount of water will wash away the memory of his kiss from my lips. As tiny bubbles escape to the surface from my mouth and my nose, I admit that I have feelings that are hopeless. Just hopeless and useless feelings that will never come to anything. I have been happily single for three years. Three years of not wanting or needing anyone. Now, the very idea of many more years of singledom, unusually leave me feeling lonely. I am not used to feeling lonely, but now, I regrettably do. As my face slowly surfaces the hot water, I blow away the bubbles that have stuck to my wet nose, cheeks and chin. Rubbing the soapy residue away from my eyes, I can hear my phone ringing. I can't be bothered to get out, so I remain in the bath and work on relaxing some more. As soon as I hear my answer machine go into voicemail mode, I close my eyes and relax. Whoever it was hasn't left a message, I would hear their faint message if they had. So I keep my eyes shut and breathe in deeply.

Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! My phone starts ringing again, at least until the answer machine kicks in. I listen out, still no message is left, so I relax back against the bath.

Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Oh, this is just getting ridiculous. Sitting up, I realise that my relaxing bath just isn't happening. In temper, I step out of it, dripping all over the place as I crossly wrap a towel around myself. Once again, whoever keeps calling, hasn't left a message. Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Rushing towards the phone beside my bed, I manage to get to it in time before the answer machine does. "Hello?" My tone is offish, I want it heard that I am peeved.

"So Cam can have your number but I can't?" Rhys's disgruntled voice comes deeply down the telephone line.

Pulling tighter on the towel, I slowly sit back on my bed with a blossoming smile. "You didn't ask for it." I amusingly tell him, wiping drops of water from off, my still wet, legs.

"Well, I have it now." He still sounds ticked off. "I threatened to fire Cameron if he didn't give it to me."

That makes me giggle. "You can't threaten to fire Cam."

"I just did." He grumbles.

"You can't do that!" I almost yell, panicking that he really just had fired Cameron.

Rhys quickly puts me at ease. "I only threatened to fire him, I didn't follow through on that threat."

Relief washes right over me, slowing down my panicked heart rate. "Oh, thank God...I really thought you had fired him, then."

"Would it bother you if I did?" His bad mood is still very much present.

"Of course it would."

"Why?" His tone is blunt, his question even blunter.

"Because it would have been my fault. Cameron doesn't deserve that." I think my answer is fair enough. I honestly wouldn't want Cam to lose his job over me. That wouldn't be right. It would also be utterly ridiculous.

"Just as well that I haven't then, isn't it?" Comes Rhys's petty reply.

With his mood not lifting, I sigh heavily down the phone. "Why have you called, Rhys? Please tell me that it's not only to discuss the near-firing of Cameron?"

He doesn't say anything right away. He just remains on the line with only his light breathing being heard. Eventually, he despondently answers me. "I didn't want to leave things between us as they are now."

Now I am the one who thinks before she speaks. It really doesn't feel right with how things were left between us. He had kissed me. I panicked. Then I bolted. I guess a lot has been left unsaid. For me, it's an heartfelt apology. So the first thing to slip from out of my mouth, is just that. "I'm sorry for running off the way that I did, Rhys."

"Can you tell me why?" He asks quietly, the anger no longer there.

"I'm not sure. I just panicked. You're Rhys Ryan, for Gods sake. We couldn't be more different, could we?" I deflect the question back onto him. I need him to understand my confusion and reluctance over what's been happening between us. I want him to somehow make things clearer for me.

"You're getting too hung up on my fame, Clara."

Maybe he's right? I do get overwhelmed when I look at the bigger picture of us. People like me don't usually end up with guys like him. I'm not meaning that based on looks and status. I mean it based on lifestyle and geography. He is Mr Mega Famous, who lives in America. I am a media journalist, living in England. The distance alone should be reason enough to run in my just bathed feet. "I can't help it." I finally admit.

"I get it, I really do. I just wanted to clear the air before I leave tonight." His reply is genuine, understanding even. "Believe me, Clara. I've no idea what is happening, either. I feel like I have a whole bunch of things to figure out, as well."

That's when I realise that he doesn't have any of the answers. He's just as confused and overwhelmed as I am. Instead of trying to make sense of everything, I decide to just talk to him. It doesn't matter about what, I just want to talk. "I'm glad that you've called, even though you've dragged me out of my lovely hot bath."

"That sounds about right. Everything about us, Clara...the timing is just off." He tries to make it come out as a joke, but it certainly doesn't.

I want to keep talking, just not about us. "How is your sister?"

Rhys takes a sharp intake of breath. "She's not good. Mom is doing her best. Maci keeps trying to get out of the house so she can get high again. I can't do anything until I get back. I have a doctor keeping an eye on her and some friends looking out for her and my family, but my hands really are tied until I return home. I honestly don't know what to do next, Clara."

Trying to give him some verbal comfort, I don't hesitate with my answer. "You're doing all you can, Rhys. I think your sister is very lucky to have you and your family. Some addicts tend to lose those that they love. Their addiction pushes their loved ones to the brink of their loyalty."

He sighs, sounding upset. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. I am this close to turning my back on her. I am nearly done with Maci. She's ripped herself, my mom, and me, totally apart. Her selfishness has caused so much hurt and so much disgust, but because that selfishness has the name 'addict' attached to it, it makes it okay that's she's doing it to herself and to us. I've had enough, Clara."

His sad breaths can be heard down the line, all I want to do is to take that sadness away. "I'm so sorry." I find myself apologising. Not only because of his sister, but because of me.

"You have nothing to apologise for Clara Thorn." And I can tell, he thoroughly means it. There's a soft edge to his American voice. A warm hint of what could have been. "Anyway, I just wanted to properly say goodbye." Now there's a dusting of regret to his pleasant accent.

I know his voice is one that I am going to miss terribly. "Goodbye, Rhys." His name becomes lodged in my throat. Emotion prevents it from being swallowed down. "I had such a great time meeting you. I'll be forwarding the final draft of the interview to Cameron, if you're wanting to take a look before it goes to print?" I keep on talking, forcing the emotions away. "I've been looking at the photos I have taken, they look great." I finally stop, needing to take a painful breath.

The pleasing sound of Rhys's light laugh strokes my eardrums. "I'm sure the interview is in very safe hands." He says, still laughing softly. "I don't want to have to go, but I must. Bye, Clara." I know he is saying his final goodbye to me.

"Okay, thanks for the call. Have a safe journey home. I hope everything works out with Maci." This is also my final goodbye.

"Thanks, maybe see you around one day?" His quiet reply is tenderly wrapped in the possibility of our paths one day crossing again.

I know that the chances of that are highly unlikely, but I will say yes because it will somehow make our call easier to end. "That would be nice." I eventually answer, beginning to feel overwhelmed with what I am feeling inside.

In a typically American way, he says. "Cool."

Then the line goes solemnly silent. Rhys has finally gone. He has left me with the word 'cool' and knowing that I'll probably never see him again, leaves me cold upon my bed. As the sadness slips in beside me, I feel so grateful for his goodbye call. It was one that I thought we would never have, so I guess that is at least something positive to hold onto. I think what I now need, is to finish having my bath, have a yummy hot chocolate and then finish off the infamous interview.

It's time to accept that Rhys Ryan had briefly come into my life and is now fading from it. Like all of the beautiful songs that he sings, they sadly do have to come to an end.