You, Me and Us. Read online

  “Not stupid no, just you know not a real song.” You tried to explain. God, I really wished you’d have stopped speaking. “I just think if you want to win that contest you’d be better doing like actual music.”

  Oh, fucking hell, I’ll never be able to explain to you how that was the last thing you should’ve said. I daren’t even look at Ryan so instead I just laughed a bit.

  “Well music is music and it’s all subjective so.” I said with a shrug. “Plus, it’s kind of our thing, you know cheese and themes.”

  “No, I know, and it’s great.” You said. I really wished you’d have stopped there. “But you’ll be against real bands, won’t you? So, you need to change it a bit I think.”

  Oh shit. I didn’t know how to respond to that, I just stood with my mouth ajar looking at you. I could practically feel Ryan’s vibrations as he was on the verge of explosion. Thankfully, Tom was there to save the day as he slammed his fingers into the keys and fired up Stop Crying Your Heart Out. I was really grateful for Tom in that moment as Ryan got to take his anger out on his guitar and I got to focus on holding a tune for four minutes. Also, most importantly, you didn’t notice the absolute shit storm you’d created, instead you got to nod along to what is and always has been, a banger.

  Relatively good spirits were being enjoyed by all, as we packed up from rehearsal. We’d managed to squeeze in a good few tunes without another cross word. I knew however that now the music had abated I needed to get you away from Ryan as quickly as possible. His fuse was very short when he thought someone was mocking the band.

  “Erin, can you give Tom a hand with the speaker, it needs to go back in the staff room?” I tried to sound casual.

  I knew being with Tom was the safest option for you right now, he was the mellowest of the three of us. Some would say it was due to his lack of brain cells, but whatever it was, I was grateful for him being here. Thankfully you just nodded and helped him lug the speaker into the staff room. Once you were out of earshot I looked up to Ryan as he was putting his guitar gently back into its case like a sleeping baby into a crib.

  “You okay mate?” I sounded as neutral as possible.

  “Fine.”

  He picked up his case and headed for the back door. I watched him walk away and weighed up the pros and cons of shouting out to him before he reached the door. He reached out to push it open and I knew it was now or never.

  “Good rehearsal tonight yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He said. He continued for a moment out the door but before he let it shut behind him said. “Almost like a real band.”

  The door slammed shut and again the dance floor was dark.

  I thought it would have been best to avoid Ryan for the night so I was extremely relieved when you asked if I wanted to come back to yours. We picked up some food on the way back and I proceeded to shove about twelve hundred calories of pizza directly into my face and mouth. You joined me in the pursuit of fullness and we sank onto the couch together in a haze of grease, cheese and Netflix.

  I was lay deep on the right side of the couch, you were snuggled up on my chest as my stomach lifted you up and down in time with my breathing. It would have been blissful if it weren’t for the bloated, dairy-induced coma I was in danger of slipping into. I went to get up and you moaned softly at me. I tilted my head down and kissed you on the top of the head.

  “Sorry, but I’m falling asleep.” I said with a yawn. “I need to get up and move. Do you want a brew?”

  I sat up and lifted you into a seated position. You stretched and paused the television cutting off the closing titles of Breaking Bad.

  “Please, but I’ll have it in bed, can you bring them in there?” you asked.

  “Course.” I replied with a squeeze of your side and a kiss on the cheek.

  You slowly pulled yourself up off the couch and trotted into your bedroom. I watched you go and pinched myself for the thousandth time since I’d met you. I was falling like a sucker, falling without a parachute, hurtling towards the cold reality of earth. I stood up and made my way over to the kitchen, collecting two mugs from the coffee table on the way. I clicked the kettle on and plopped two fresh tea bags into the mugs.

  “Milk and two yeah?” I called into the bedroom.

  “Please!” came back your reply.

  I stood and waited for the kettle to boil, but if proverbs tell us anything, it was never going to be done if I simply stood here and watched. Instead I looked at a picture stuck to the fridge door, it was you and your mum. Obviously at the time I didn’t know it was your mum, it was just an older woman hugging you and kissing you on the cheek. I smiled at the image for a moment before I was drawn into your face on the picture. How did I ever manage to swing this? I needed to time lock you just like in the photo, preserve this moment forever before it was gone. I shook my head at the idea cursing my own fucked up esteem issues.

  The kettle finally completed with a click and a hiss. I strode towards it and poured the hot water over the tea bags before adding two sugars in each with a stir. As one of the millions of people living north of Birmingham I took pride in my ability to make the perfect cup of tea. I now began perhaps the most essential part of brew making, as I simply stood back and let the two tea bags float in the boiling water. The picture of you both caught my eye again and I smiled once more at how happy you looked wrapped up in your mum’s arms. And then, in that moment I got an idea. No scratch that, not an idea, the idea. Looking back, if I made a shit cup of tea I would have put the milk in straight away and maybe never got the idea.

  I pushed your door open with my foot and arrived in your room with a mug in each hand. You were sat up at the head of your bed looking at your phone.

  “Tea time.” I said cheerily as I dropped down next to you.

  I handed you your brew, you smiled and kissed me on the cheek. I took a deep sip and thanked the Gods of warm drinks for my impeccable talent. You seemed to share my sentiment as you sighed deeply after taking a gulp before placing your mug down on the nightstand adjacent to your bed. You still hadn’t taken your eyes off your phone, you were playing a very brightly coloured game involving both cupcakes and cats. I squinted at your screen and realised, yep, the game was actually called Cupcakes and Cats. I laughed. You looked up at me.

  “What?” you said.

  “Nothing, what is that game?”

  “Cupcakes and Cats 2, it’s the best have you never played it?”

  “Well I played the first one but I got so bogged down in it I couldn’t commit to the sequel, I needed to move on with my life.” I drank again from my cup.

  You looked me up and down with scrutiny.

  “You’re taking the piss aren’t you?”

  “No, I loved it. Since my penis fell off tiny cakes and big kittens are all I live for.” You punched me softly in the side. “Hey, oi! No punching!”

  You gave me one last punch for good luck and then backed up into me to get comfy. I responded by gulping down the last of my tea, scolding my mouth in the process, and wrapped my hands around you. I could then feel the butterflies awaken in my stomach. The idea was moments away from becoming a reality. I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair and exhaling onto the curve of your neck. You shuddered as the warm air hit you and let out a small laugh.

  “Stop it, that tickles.” You laughed.

  I smiled at the back of your head and pulled you, if possible, even closer to my body. I was moments away from doing it, all I could think about was how to best phrase it. I rolled a few different suggestions around in my head but none of them seemed to fit. Maybe it would be for the best if-

  “Jimmy.” You interrupted my chain of thought. “Sing me a bed time song.”

  I laughed; you always had this uncanny ability to say the strangest things when I was deep in thought.

  “Haven’t you heard me sing enough today as it is?”

  “No, please, come on, just one more song, whatever you like.”
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br />   “What even if it’s not a real song?” I asked.

  Your turned around and faced me.

  “What? Is this about before?”

  “Well, it’s just, we get that a lot… you’re not a real band, sing real songs… etcetera.” I rolled my hands in the air.

  “I’m sorry Jimmy I didn’t mean it like that, all I mean is you’re all so talented it seems a bit of a waste…”

  “Right. Yeah I’m not sure it came off that way.”

  “I just think you should sing Bang Bang, that’s better than half the songs you sing.”

  “Is it?”

  You nodded.

  I smiled, I understood.

  “Why don’t you sing me to sleep with it?”

  I thought for a moment. You looked up at me and pulled a sad face. Eurgh. It shouldn’t be that easy to get me to do things.

  “Bang bang baby, shake shake sugar, I don’t know you but I kinda thinka shoulda…”

  You grabbed hand and squeezed. You rolled over so I spooned you.

  “Carry on.” You said.

  “Your lips are making me lose control and damn those eyes are gunna make me fall, ow!”

  I stopped for a moment thinking this was enough but a gentle kick to my shins made me realise you wanted more. I tutted and plundered on.

  “I saw you out at night when I should be in a slumber, I came to say hello and see if I could get your number…”

  I leaned around and kissed your cheek.

  “You can’t stop there.” You said.

  “You want me to kiss you in other places too?” I said hopefully.

  “No. Well yes. But no, I mean the song, you can’t stop there I’ve never heard the rest of it.”

  “Well, I just did.” I shrugged.

  “You can’t.” you said. “Please, I love that song.”

  “Sorry I’m not a performing monkey.”

  “Just two more lines come on, I don’t ask for much I’ve let you stay over again, and sleep on the good side of the bed, that’s the better side beca-“

  “Will you be my girlfriend?” it was my turn to interrupt.

  And for the first time since I’d met you, you didn’t have a response. You were silent. I panicked. You turned your head to face me.

  “Shit sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” I spluttered.

  You continued to just look up at me.

  “Look I don’t want to fuck everything up.” I said, the tension in my voice gave away my panic. “I just thought you know, I really like you and that.”

  You were still silent. Just staring at me. Fuck.

  “Erin come on, just say something, look it was a stupid idea I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Please just speak to me.”

  You pulled yourself away from me and moved over to your own side of the bed. You sat up and faced me, eye-to-eye almost.

  “Erin?” I said, fearing my stupidity had somehow turned you into a deaf mute.

  “Yes.” You said finally, your lips parting for what seemed like the first time in months.

  “I’m sorry it was crazy, I just like you, you know.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” You said, your eyes focusing on me. “I’m saying yes. As in yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

  Kisses were shared, hugs were given and received, the late evening flowed beautifully into the early hours and we spent every moment of it wrapped in each other’s arms basking in the glow of our new-found relationship. As we eventually found sleep, the sun began to rise along with hundreds of our friends who checked their social media accounts to be greeted by the following update:

  Jimmy Rowland is in a relationship with Erin Poppet.

  Chapter Five- Folks, Flats and Fallouts

  When I look back on those first two weeks from us meeting to becoming an official item, it seems like it took place over a matter of minutes not days or weeks. We raced to the starting line instead of warming up. And when the gun sounded to start the race, we flew out of the traps. Looking back, a slow jog would’ve been good. A walk would’ve been better. Simply turning around, forgetting about the race and going home would’ve been perfect.

  We lived in each other’s pockets for the first month after getting together. In that month we conquered many milestones. You came to my flat, and obviously you were horrified. I can still see the look of disgust on your face when you entered our bathroom and asked me why it was painted black, and I told you it was in fact, mould. We didn’t stay there much after that. Oddly enough Ryan seemed to be happy with this arrangement. I was floating through that month, everything just seemed to be so perfect, and so what if I missed out on a few rehearsals, I was a singer I could just show up to gigs and sing it’s not like I had keys or strings to learn. And that’s what my rehearsals became that month, Ryan and Tom would practice tunes and I’d look them up on YouTube once, memorise the lyrics and I was done. I knew they were both getting pissed off at me, but I was just too obsessed with spending each moment with you. The moments kept coming, I went to your work and got some free food whilst you finished a shift, you’d come to Ronnie’s and sat at the bar all night whilst I span glasses around for no reason at all before I poured a pint for a bemused looking punter. However, it was during one of our many all-day bed sessions that I realised I was still missing out on a fairly important moment.

  “Hey, where the hell is your housemate?” I asked, as you were again engrossed in Cats and Cupcakes 2.

  You looked at me and paused your game for a second.

  “She’s still at her Mum’s. Her Mum isn’t well so she’s going to have to move out soon I think.”

  “That’s shit, isn’t it?” I replied. “What are you going to do? Can you afford this place on your own?”

  I looked around the beautiful flat. I already knew the answer.

  “No, not really. I’ll just have to find another housemate.”

  Bing. There it was, another idea came to me. This one even crazier than the ones I’d had previously. We’d only known each other six weeks or so but it didn’t seem that way, it was like we’d known each other our entire lives. I began to think about the pros and cons.

  “Speaking of mums, that reminds me, I was on the phone to my mum last night.” You started, interrupting me just as I put ‘no more mould’ into the pro column. “She wants to meet you.”

  “What?” I said. “No honestly I’m not good with parents.”

  “You’ll be fine, my mum’s great. She’ll like you.”

  “She won’t honestly. I say weird things when I get nervous I can’t help it.”

  “Well tough, we’re going for dinner with her on Sunday.” It was Friday.

  “What? Fuck. No come on how about I just drop you off and wave from the car?” I demonstrated my excellent waving technique. “See?”

  “No, you have to meet her, and I want to meet your mum.” You looked at me with steely determination.

  “Like I said, I’m not good with parents, I barely speak to mine anymore.”

  “Oh, you’re joking?” you sounded genuinely sad. “That’s awful, why?”

  “It’s nothing really, they’re very conservative and straight-laced and I wanted to move out and join a band.” I said, repeating a sentence I’d told people for five years. “They ring on birthdays, I make an appearance at Christmas, but that’s it.”

  “That’s sad. Sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine, honestly, we’re just different people, no big fall out just you know different lives.” I finished with a smile.

  “Well my mum loves the sound of you being in a band, she even watched one of your gig videos on Facebook.”

  “What? Really?” I was shocked, what sort of real adult wants to watch three idiots prance around the stage to TV themes?

  “Yeah she said you were, what was it, ‘very charismatic’.”

  “You sure it was our video?”

  “Yes!” you dug me in the ribs. “And she’s dying to meet you, come on, I’ll even pay.
”

  “Fine. But trust me you will pay. When I accidentally let slip how good you are in bed.”

  You laughed and wrapped yourself around me.

  “I think she’d be proud to be honest, she’s always told me to hone my talents.” You said with a smirk.

  Despite your calming words I was still racked with anxiety in the two days leading up to Sunday. I knew for a fact I was going to say something ridiculous. I even Googled ‘best ways to impress your girlfriend’s mum’, and after scrolling through page after page of porn, I found some very basic tips around using surnames, keeping eye contact and compliments. You helped me pick out clothes for the big day on Sunday morning, you went with my tightest pair of chinos which I squeezed into like sausage meat going into wrapping, and a loose checked shirt. I remember looking in the mirror and sighing at my top-heavy frame. My legs didn’t look so bad in these trousers, mainly because after carrying so much weight around for five years they’d actually become slightly muscular, but my gelatine-like top half was anything but muscular. It was one of my very few ‘real’ moments of looking at myself back then, and for a good few seconds I looked into the mirror and took it all in, honestly, I was disgusted with what was reflected back.