You, Me and Us. Page 8

  “I suppose.” He was already resigned to the fact I was going.

  “It’ll be fine, I’ll only be ten minutes down the road.” I said.

  Tom looked up and nodded.

  “Ryan will come around, you know what he’s like, he just doesn’t like change.”

  “I know I know, I’ll speak to him. But come on, first let me kick your arse at FIFA.”

  Chapter Six- Dick Swinging

  Early man lived in nomadic tribes, moving from one area to the next to scavenge for food and shelter. Eventually we evolved to have food delivered and shelters made for us, all because early man realised moving is a fucking pain in the arse. I may be being dramatic here, because really, I only had one journey’s worth of stuff, but it was still a hassle to move things from one place to another. As I unpacked it became clear I didn’t have much homely items, just the bare essentials shoved into two suitcases and a rucksack.

  Thankfully we discovered you more than had us covered in terms of cutlery. I still can’t get my head around the number of different spoons you had. In my world, we had a teaspoon and a table spoon, but that all changed when I moved in with you. Suddenly the alien invading spoons infiltrated my world. And it wasn’t just spoons, but towels and plates and clocks and cushions. We now had far too much for just two people. I was beginning to think Jasmine was just a figment of your imagination, as she didn’t seem to have taken anything with her when she left. Even her bed was still in her room meaning our rehearsal space was on hold.

  August had just begun to peak its head around the corner as we were getting settled into your, well our, flat. It felt odd having a flat that actually resembled a home for once. When you were in work I’d spend what felt like hours just staring at your mould-free bathroom. With all the effort of moving I’d missed a few more rehearsals with the guys. Ryan’s texts were becoming more and more passive aggressive.

  Can you make it to rehearsal tonight?

  Became:

  Rehearsal at 7pm. Be here.

  And eventually that turned into:

  Know anyone who can sing? Thinking of starting a band.

  I laughed it off though. I was seriously busy trying to get myself sorted in the flat, surely, they’d both understand. Tom stayed relatively quiet, that’s Tom though, not one for confrontation. Ryan however, well you’ve seen the texts, but he also started sending me tunes to learn which were all instrumental. When I’d ask him why, he’d say this is what it was like for them two to rehearse without a singer. I really didn’t understand their concern, we didn’t have our competition for another two months, it would be fine.

  At some point during the hectic moving phase you came up with the genius idea to have a house warming party when I’d got settled. I tried to argue the point that a house warming would traditionally only be thrown when people moved into a brand-new home, and seeing as you’d already been there a year it seemed to be a bit of pointless exercise. However, the scent of a party had been caught in your nostrils. And you were adamant that you would be putting your talents to good use to welcome me to the flat.

  “Come on, it’ll be great! I can bake cupcakes and make a buffet!”

  “For who though? I literally have two friends.”

  “What about Joe?”

  “Joe’s my boss.”

  “But you’d invite him, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes probably.”

  “See, that’s three people. Plus, if I invite a few more we could get it up to ten, that’s a good number for a party.”

  “I don’t know I really don’t fancy it.”

  “Please, it’ll be fun.”

  You looked at me with your big begging eyes. Damn. I knew I was on the losing end of the argument right there. I sighed and nodded. You laughed and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  It was a strange feeling a few days later as I stood in what was technically my kitchen looked around and didn’t recognise a single face. I was leant against the oven holding a beer in one hand and my phone in the other trying to look busy when really, I was texting Tom over and over again to see where on earth those two had got to. I sent one final profanity-laden message and shoved my phone back into my jeans. I lifted my head and again scanned the kitchen and living room. The ‘few more people’ you were originally going to add to the guest list had spiralled into what I could only estimate to be around three rugby teams’ worth of strangers. And I seriously did not seem to know a single one of them.

  I decided there was on only one possible recourse to take; I would have to get so drunk that I didn’t give a shit who these people were. I ducked down below the sink and pulled a stashed bottle of whiskey from its’ hiding place. I then gripped the stack of plastic cups to my left and pulled out five of them. I placed them on the worktop in front of me in a neat row. I then deposited a liberal amount of whiskey into each of them. I drew my eyes up once more and looked around the room. Nobody was watching, it seemed nobody cared about the stranger in the kitchen about to drink five separate measures of whiskey. I lifted the first one and threw it down my throat. I tried not to breathe as I swallowed but my throat was burnt just the same. I coughed and grasped the second cup. Again, my throat felt like one of the smaller circles of Hell as the second one blazed past my tonsils. By the third shot the burning had eroded enough of the inner-lining of my trachea that the alcohol seemed to slide down with minimal fuss. The fourth shot almost felt homely in its warmth as it joined it’s three predecessors in my stomach. The fifth shot I cannot remember.

  Once I’d downed a beer to wash the taste of Irish flames from my mouth, I took another look around the room… surely someone would look friendly enough to speak to. I smiled at a girl who was edging around the packed fridge to get a drink. She returned the smile and looked down quickly. Eurgh. I genuinely think that she thought I was hitting on her. I almost wanted to point to the love-heart shaped frame on the coffee table with our faces crammed inside. Oh shit. There. Sat at the coffee table was someone I knew. Your mum.

  I squeezed past more strangers in my own home and made my way towards her. The whiskey was now starting to take charge of the situation and I found it very difficult to navigate the path to your mum. She was sat with her back to me and as I just about got level with the couch she jumped up and walked towards the balcony. I had to double back, doing the same deer-learning-walk movements I’d done seconds earlier. Once I made it through the crowd again I found myself out on the balcony.

  The warm summer heat hit me as I got past the curtain separating outside and in. The air caused my body to start moving oxygen around my system, and with it, more alcohol into my blood. My head felt separate from my body. Luckily the balcony had proved to be less popular than the kitchen, your mum was the sole occupier.

  “Julie. Hi!” I strode towards her.

  She turned around and beamed at me.

  “Jimmy!” she smiled. “I thought you might be working I couldn’t see you in there.”

  “Yeah I got lost in the sea of strangers. In my own house.”

  Julie laughed and took a deep drag from her smoke. She blew a thick cloud of smoke out and then held the cigarette towards me.

  “Want some?” she asked.

  Strange. I have my own cigarettes. But I’d never been one to pass up a freebie so I took the smoke with a smile and stepped towards the edge of the balcony. I looked over it but being on the edge made me a tad queasy so I took a step back and took a drag of the smoke.

  “I love it out here.” She pointed towards the darkening outline of Manchester. “It’s beautiful.”

  I took another drag and nodded.

  “Yeah it’s great to chill out here.” As I spoke smoke fell out of my mouth. Odd.

  “I keep thinking I should move to Manchester.” She said.

  I looked out at the skyline.

  “Yeah why not?” I said, as my lips moved I got a strange taste in my mouth. I took another inhale to try and clear it out.

  “Erin thinks I’d b
e too close to her. Like I’d be around all the time.”

  I exhaled again. What was that taste? I looked down at the cigarette. It was a roll-up. Wait. Was that a . . . a . . . roach?

  “What do you think?” came a voice a million miles away. I looked up to see Julie staring at me.

  “Erm yeah I dunno.”

  Out of instinct, I took another drag. Shit. Weed. I was smoking weed. And it was pretty strong I could already tell. And now there was no getting off the rollercoaster.

  Julie was still talking at me. But I was sinking deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. And for some stupid reason I was still smoking! I had no idea what Julie was saying from one second to the next. I was pretty sure we’d been stood out here for either 1 second or 48 minutes. Shit. The weed was teaming up with the whiskey to beat the shit out of me.

  “No, yeah.” I faked a yawn. “I best go to the loo.”

  I threw the remainder of the joint off the balcony and walked inside.

  I was panicking now. Big time. I’d been down this path before and I knew it was going to get really bad, really fast. I looked around the room. Strangers. Great. That’s exactly what you want when you’re stoned and drunk out of your fucking tree, strangers to judge you whilst you try and make a good first impression. Fuck why were my hands like this? I made a beeline for the bathroom. Luckily there was no queue outside so I didn’t have to make any small talk. I just waited outside and tried to remember the right way to stand up.

  I was beginning to think this couldn’t get any worse, and then every second it got worse. I lifted my toes up and down and really felt every single section of material inside my socks. I was staring deep into the wall and thinking about how weird it was that paint was once sat in a warehouse somewhere all liquid-like. And now it was just stuck to the wall forever. Months passed. Seasons changed outside the flat. And still I looked at the wall.

  “Do you need the toilet?”

  Holy fuck the wall was talking to me. I felt my mouth drop open. Then a hand tapped my shoulder. I turned left to see a guy holding the door open for me. He’d just left the bathroom. He was wearing a ridiculously tight t-shirt that showed off his large arms. He had sandy blonde hair, which fell down to his eyelids. Something was off about him or maybe I was just really high.

  “Paint.”

  “You what?” he asked.

  “Paint.” That time I pointed at the wall to ensure my point was being made.

  “Yeah paint. That’s it.” He patted me on the back. He moved away from the bathroom door and looked me up and down as he backed into the kitchen.

  He clearly thought I had some sort of mental disorder. Maybe he was right. I closed the bathroom door behind me in a gentle manner not to disturb the nice paint outside. I looked up into the mirror. Slowly I approached it and let my reflection take over my vision.

  Holy shit my eyes were red. So very red. Oh my god. I got up close and personal with my reflection and really began to study my face. And it was at that moment I realised I looked slightly like a fat, white, Eddie Murphy. God. I ran the cold water and splashed it all over my face, taking care to rub my eyes. I looked up. Yep, now I was just wet and red. Like an ice pop. I took a deep breath in and out.

  I then turned on the spot and concentrated with all my might on putting one foot in front of the other. Once I’d remembered how to walk my next task was the navigate opening a door. I clasped my fingers around the door handle and pulled with all my weight. Now, I was nineteen stone back then, and pulling anything with all of that weight carried grave consequences. This time, those consequences were that I tripped over my own feet and ended up on my back looking up into the door way as the light illuminated me from the corridor.

  “Fucking hell mate, just because your ceiling doesn’t have mould on it doesn’t mean you have to lie there and stare at it non-stop.”

  I titled my head slightly and looked up. Ryan and Tom were stood there. They both still had their jackets on, and Tom was holding an unopened bottle of red wine in his hands. Clearly, they’d only just arrived.

  “S’happening?” I opened arms in a greeting from the floor.

  I went to stand up but somehow my legs weren’t quiet functioning. Ryan took a step forward and stuck his hands under my arms. He helped me stand up. He looked me in the eyes.

  “Are you pissed?” he said.

  “Yes.” I said. I thought for a moment whether to tell them or not. I also thought about how the universe is in a constant outward trajectory. And how wraps are named after what they do. Like if Cher worked for the Stock Exchange. Eventually I came back to telling them. “And I’m super high.”

  It’s in these dire moments that you realise who your true friends are. Ryan and Tom were clearly my true friends as they had acted like human crutches for me and carried me to the nearest couch. We looked like Jesus and Simon of Cyrene as they dragged me to the living room and dumped me on the leather sofa. Strangers scattered as my giant lifeless frame collapsed onto the cushions.

  “Fuck me mate, how much did you have?” Tom said.

  “Like three or four drags.” I said.

  “Three or four? And you’re like this?” Ryan said.

  “And five shots of whiskey.”

  “Fucking hell, that wasn’t the best idea, was it?” said Tom.

  “Tom, you will never know what it is to have the love of a woman.”

  “What is he on about?” Tom looked at Ryan.

  “I dunno, Jim, are you okay?”

  “It comes and goes. One second I’m okay, the next I’m sure that the secret to life is almost moments away. God I’m hungry.”

  “Here have these.” Ryan produced a packet of crisps from thin air.

  I ripped into the bag like a rabid wolverine and ate like a child in the 40s after handing over a rations voucher. Never before had I been able to taste so much of the intricate flavours of cheese and onion crisps. They were amazing.

  “Thanks.” I somehow said between mouthfuls of crisps. I scattered crumbs everywhere.

  I looked around to show my appreciation with some eye contact and it was then I realised that Ryan and Tom had left me. I scanned my eyes over the room and eventually spotted them leant against the stove speaking to the back of two girls heads. Well actually they were speaking to the front of their heads, where the face is usually found. But from my angle, and more importantly from my state of mind, it looked as if they were talking to two generic back-of-girls-heads. I licked the inside of my mouth to collect any more cheese and onion dust. My mouth was so dry. I grabbed a beer from the table in front of me, caring not one iota who it belonged to, and downed it in one long chug. The foam settled around my lips and for a moment I actually felt at ease. I sank deeper into the couch and couldn’t remember the last time I was that comfortable.

  I really don’t know how long I’d slept. All I know is that when my eyes snapped open, the living room was empty. My head felt groggy and everything seemed really far away. I shook my large cranium from side to side and looked for any sort of liquid. The Sahara Desert had taken up residence in my mouth. I pushed my hands into the cushions and tilted myself into a standing position.

  I stumbled into the kitchen area and swung the fridge door open. A large two-litre bottle of semi-skimmed milk caught my eye and I proceeded to pour the entire thing in my general mouth direction. The relief of my mouth finally having some form of moisture in it was incredible. The fact that my chins, shirt and trousers were now also moist meant little. Eventually I pulled the milk bottle from my lips and slammed it on the counter. I then began to look around it really was empty. I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time. 1:34am.

  Where were you? I lurched my way to the spare room and nudged the door open, your mum was sleeping softly in the bed. I pulled the door to and made my way to our room. Just as I was about to open the door to it I heard something from the balcony. A laugh. A soft, gentle laugh. Your laugh. Instead of pushing open our door, I pulled the curtain to
the balcony to one side and stepped out into the darkness.

  Once my eyes had adjusted to the lack of light I made out the form of you and that of my tight t-shirt wearing blonde friend from the paint conversation earlier. The laugh I’d heard from inside was still dying on your lips as you turned your head and noticed I’d arrived.

  “Hi.” I said.

  “Hi.” You replied.

  A long moment of silence followed this as the three of us surveyed each other. I looked from you to him, then back to you. I don’t know how long this went on for because I still felt a bit high. Why were you stood so close together?

  “Alright mate.”

  I turned back to him. He was smiling at me.

  “Hi.” I said.