The Debt & the Doormat by Laura Barnard

Author:Laura Barnard
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Contemporary Fiction, Humor, Contemporary Women, Romance, General Humor, Literature & Fiction, Humor & Satire, Women's Fiction
ISBN: 1782997857
Published: 2013-07-22T23:00:00+00:00

When I get home I run to my bedroom and spend a good couple of hours crying alone in my bedroom. Happy fucking birthday. Why is it every year I get a terrible day? Normally I just injure myself, but this year it's far worse. To have my feelings hurt this badly. I mean, I thought I knew Ryan. Little did I know he just finds me amusing to have around. Like a stupid little jester or something.

I stare at my phone, declaring myself pathetic that no-one has text me to wish me happy birthday. Not even my parents. Does no-one in the entire world love me? I scroll down to Jazz and press dial. She’s bound to have planned something for my birthday.

‘Hello?’ she shouts, loud rock music playing in the background.

‘Hey Jazz, it's me. Listen, I know I said I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday, but I’ve changed my mind. Do you want to go out?’

‘Huh? Sorry Pops, I can barely hear you! I’m still stuck at this stupid festival. To be honest, I don't actually think I’ll be able to make it back tonight. Jake’s talking about staying for another night.’

I know her game. She’s planned a surprise birthday party for me, I know it. As if she would stay at a festival just for Jake. Surely I’m way more important?

‘Oh yeah, is this your fake ruse?’ I say smiling to myself. ‘It's ok Jazz, I want to celebrate my birthday now. You can tell me all about the surprise party. I promise I won't get mad. I’m kind of looking forward to it actually.’

‘What party? Chick, you told us not to do anything for you. There’s no party. I’m really sorry babe, but why don't we go out for lunch tomorrow to make it up to you?’

My stomach drops and the same depression begins to creep over me again. No-one cares about me.

‘Oh...OK. Yeah I suppose that's great.’ I try not to sound ungrateful.

She doesn’t even have her usual high pitched Oxford acting voice on to make me doubt her. She must be telling the truth.

‘Great. Can I call you tomorrow then?’

‘Yeah, fine.’ I just want to get off the phone so I can cry.

‘OK, love you babes. Happy birthday.’

‘Thanks,’ but she’s already hung up.

I bury my head under the duvet and let out some loud sobs, hoping no-one can hear me through the wall.

My phone rings again and I pick it up before checking who it is.

‘Happy birthday darling!’ my mum’s shrill voice sings down the phone, before I’ve even had a chance to say hello.

‘Hi Mum,’ I say, my voice flat and boring.

‘Hi darling. Well...are you running late or what?’

What is she talking about?

‘Huh?’

‘Your birthday lunch round Auntie Beryl’s. We’ve all been here for about half an hour and I just wondered where on earth you are?’

‘Lunch? I don't remember any mention of lunch?’

‘Darling I sent you an e-mail,’ she sighs heavily, as if I’m a massive inconvenience to her.

‘E-mail? I

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