Zoe stared at her reflection, hard. The evidence of last nights antics smeared across her face; dried in mascara, smeared lipstick across her mouth and chin – clear evidence of some fumble with an unknown stranger, her hair was matted and clung to her face with sticky resilience. She ran her hand though her hair, wincing as her fingers caught on the knots within. She was a mess. No, she was a forty year old mess.
She went out alone, celebrating her birthday that no one had bothered to acknowledge – not family, not work, not Max. Forty years old and not a single birthday card, of course she'd she'd bought herself a rather expensive pair of shoes but she done that at least once a month. She couldn't blame Max, she'd never told him about her birthday and certainly not her age, it was bad enough that she was older but if her knew just how big the age gap was he'd be running to the next twenty year old that looked his way. She knelt down in front of the toilet, retching as the usual post binge drinking nausea washed over her. Twenty five minutes to get to work, that wasn't going to happen.
Her head pounded as the lukewarm shower served to wash away her drowsiness and bring back the memories of last night. Her dress certainly wasn't something women at forty should be wearing, her heels higher than many of the younger girls, and she stressed that they were barely girls, around her. She was so out of place, but it was what she knew and where she belonged. Standing at the bar doing shots of tequila while the attention of various unsavoury men was given to her; they were useful enough for buying her drinks but if they thought for a second she'd be falling into bed with them then they were sadly mistake. They lost interest eventually, unable to keep up with the amount of alcohol she was kicking back.
As she stumbled out of the shower she looked in the mirror again, her face was sunken and her eyes glassy; the dry skin obvious and her hair still looking lifeless. She needed time out, not going to work – a place she'd loved so much and had now come to sorely detest. As she applied her foundation to her dull skin she smiled slightly, is was amazing what throwing money at beauty products could hide; especially a hangover and numerous shots. She noticed the grazed knee as she pulled her underwear on and then the brushes along her thigh. The slight soreness between her legs told her she'd obviously accepted the company of someone, not that she knew who, she could barely see by the time she was in the taxi home at five o'clock in the morning. An hours sleep was ok when you were twenty and up all night revising to make sure that you stayed ahead of the rest of your class but at forty and with a rather important job, she really had to pull her act together.
.
She pulled the car into her usual space in front of the hospital, not entirely sure that she was in any fit state to drive but she had to get to work and she was already fifteen minutes late. She ran straight to the staffroom in search if scrubs, the coffee stain prominent on her shirt after she slammed on the breaks of her car and spilt it everywhere.
She gazed around the hospital reception, watching her colleagues hurrying by and getting on with their day. It used to be hers, she was responsible for it, for it's staff, it's patients and it's success. Not any more, it wasn't hers now, she had been shoved further down the pecking order, on her own terms of course but it just represented another thing she had failed at; marriage, children, work – all things that she wouldn't handle, she couldn't keep control of her personal or professional life anymore.
She needed a change, to get away and possibly never come back. She wasn't sure she'd miss it, it held so many memories for her but she'd tried to keep them to the back of her mind, especially Nick Jordan, the only man she'd ever, although she'd deny it now, been in love with. She didn't know what she'd do if she left, it had been her life for seven years and so much had happened during that time. She could travel, something that she'd planned to do when she was in her early twenties, then again with Nick Jordan. She could go home, she hadn't been there in a while but spending time with her family wasn't something that she enjoyed. She could go back to her apartment, alone, clear her head and then decide. That seemed like the wisest choice.
As she made her way to find Connie she thought over everything she had achieved and apart from making consultant there wasn't much else on that list. She was single, no children, no baggage. There was the porter of course, the one she met up with whenever she was in the mood for it.
She'd done it, she'd left. Seven years that place had held her and now, she was free. She'd always come back, eventually, there was a job waiting for her and Connie had been surprisingly sympathetic. It was painless; pick up her bag and walk out. No hugs, no tears, no fuss – exactly how she liked it. As she got back into her car she knew exactly what she'd do. She took a right at the roundabout, instead of her usual left and sped along the motorway towards the airport. She had everything she needed in her bag, except possibly her clothes but shopping was what she done best.
She received some strange looks, sprinting through the hospital terminal in she scrubs towards the nearest ticket desk. Fifteen hundred pounds later and she was waiting for take off. Flying across the Atlantic to the one man who could solve her problems. The one man who could satisfy her.
Nick Jordan was waiting.