Before The Goodbye
Ronnie looked around her empty flat, the room stripped bare of every piece of furniture it once possessed. All in storage now. She walked over to the living room window, her stiletto heels clicking against the laminate floor. Sucking in a shallow breath, she peered out into the darkened night.
The soft orange glow of the street lamps radiated their cold light through the Square. Ronnie watched as one by one, the punters filtered out of the Vic, some making their way to the club, others to their homes – expectant spouses and children no doubt waiting for them. She rested her forehead against the cool pane of glass, closing her eyes and shutting herself off from everything that was going on around her. Building a wall between herself and the lives of others. Why break a habit of a lifetime?
"Now or never," Ronnie whispered to herself, eyes still closed and forehead still pressed against the window. "What are you doing, Veronica? You wanted this, so do it." Her body moved of its own accord, walking through to her bedroom and tightly clasping the overnight bag in one hand. Switching off the bedroom light for the last time, she left the place she had once thought of as 'home'. The front door closed shut with a soft click; the quietest of sounds, almost as if she hadn't even done it.
But she had.
Her heels tapped rhythmically against the granite of the pavement, each sound exactly in time with her pounding heartbeat. Why did she feel this sense of dread? She had wanted this. She had wanted a life away from Walford, away from Roxy and Jack and her dad, a clean slate to be whoever she wanted to be without all the baggage that suffocated her. So why did she feel like this?
Abruptly, she stopped; looking up into the fluorescent purple lights of her initial. Hers and her sister's initials. She just shook her head and carried on walking. Before she even knew what she was doing, she had slipped through the back of the red building and stood proudly behind the bar. The bag dropped from her hand as she took a glass and poured a double shot of vodka into it.
The liquid burned its way through to her stomach, dulling her fears and insecurities, making everything seem a little better than what they actually were.
"Glenda not teach you to never drink alone?"
Ronnie felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She'd spent the last week completely avoiding her family only to come face to face with her father on the very night she was leaving. Oh for crying out loud! Why did you even come to the Vic, why didn't you just keep on walking?
"Who knows what she could've taught me if she hadn't left."
Archie let a hiss of air escape through his gritted teeth. "And I suppose that's my fault as well, is it?"
Ronnie looked at him, father and daughter on opposite sides of the bar, her blue eyes piercing through his. She didn't bother to reply. "Drink?" She asked, turning away from him and pouring herself another vodka.
Her father eyed her suspiciously. "Why are you here, Veronica? Come to make peace with your sister?"
Ronnie scoffed, before dragging the contents of the glass into her mouth. "Yeah, peace."
"Well, she's just gone up to bed, but I could-"
"Oh no, don't wake the princess, I'll just . . see her in the morning. I'll er . . . see you both in the morning, yeah?" Draining her glass, Ronnie gently set it down on the bar top before scooping low to grasp the handles of her oversized bag.
Her father scrutinized her every move, his eyes taking in every detail. Slowly, his lips lifted in a small smile. "Going somewhere?"