by Anna Bloom
“So did you have fun?”
“Yeah it was okay, I threw up today until about eleven.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I knew you would be proud.”
“Always! So did you get home safe? I know what you are like for random decisions in these circumstances.”
“Uh. Yeah I guess.”
Tell him. Tell him.
“So did you get a cab then?”
“Maybe.”
I am complete rubbish.
“Hey, Lilah, I have been practicing a song for you.”
“Yeah, is it a new one?”
“New for us.”
“Cool,” I say but then stop any further words when I hear his fingers pick out the opening chords to “Singing in the Rain.”
Very bloody funny.
“Who told you?”
“Richard.”
Wanker.
“I woke to a text from Rich saying that he had got you safely home, did I know that you have a penchant for musicals—which I didn’t by the way—and that you missed me even if you were too proud to tell me yourself.”
“Shit. Ben. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I am being such a complete dick.”
Ben chuckles a little. “Listen, Lilah. I don’t mind if some other guy wants to walk you home to make sure you’re safe, so long as he is not holding your hand while doing it.”
“Definitely not holding my hand!” I proclaim loudly.
“Lilah, it kills me to have you so far away. If you were here I would be truly happy. But you’re not, and I know you don’t want to leave Uni. I do understand that, I am not even sure if I should have left.”
My heart stops for a beat.
“What do you mean?”
He gives a sigh that sounds loaded. “Well I don’t know. Maybe I should never have left. I should have just stayed there with you like I intended and told the band it was over. Then I would be the one walking you home hearing you sing. I would most definitely be holding your hand, and it would be me who could sit with you in the library and who goes jogging with you.”
Shit.
“You don’t even like jogging.”
“My love, I’m doing all kinds of crazy exercise at the moment.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Everything apart from my favourite, which involves being naked with you.”
Silence.
“I miss you so much,” I say, my voice nothing more than a whisper.
“I know.”
“Are you still coming home for my birthday?”
“Sure am. I’m counting the days.”
“Me, too.”
“I’ve got to go, my love.”
“I know.”
“Listen, Lilah. Richard is a good guy, but I think you should be careful. He does fancy you and I know you would not want to hurt anyone.”
“He does not!!”
“Yeah, yeah, Lilah. You believe that?”
“It’s the truth, he has a girlfriend.”
“Ever met her?”
“Well no, but –”
“Lilah, it’s cool. You’re a big girl and I trust you.”
“I trust you, too.”
This may be an extension of the truth. Just a little.
“Can I book a telephone date with you on Wednesday if you’re not too busy?” he asks. Like he bloody needs to book a date with me.
“I may be able to squeeze you in.”
“Well that sounds like an enjoyable place to be.”
“Benjamin!”
“Love you, Lilah,”
“Love you, Ben.”
Then there is static air between us. Static air and a wide sea of separation that at the moment feels like it cannot be crossed.
5th November
We are all going out shortly to the big fireworks display—last year it could not have been more different. Last year it was throwing it down with rain and we got drenched to our skin. Last year Ben stood on the threshold to my room and told me in no uncertain terms that he wanted me to make the move to be with him. Just with him. Not me pretending to be in a relationship with him.
This year, I am in a relationship with him but it does not feel like a real one. This year he is not here to stand looking all sexy, wet and dishevelled while imploring me with eyes of the brightest blue.
This year it is not even raining. This year it is crisp and dry and Guy Fawkes is going to burn. I used to feel some commiseration for the old guy, being burned year in year out, but this year I don’t. But then again last year I got spectacularly burned myself, a few days after Guy Fawkes, and the wound took a long time to heal. Nope, that old codger is not getting any sympathy from me this year.
I keep thinking about what Ben told me about Richard. I have been doing a covert investigation of the situation at Uni but I am none the wiser. I am going to have to ask for some advice.
Five minutes later
“Mer, can I ask something?”
I am propped on the counter watching her create something awful in the kitchen. Of course it’s not food. She is attempting to make a hot chocolate-based cocktail in a thermos flask.
“Yeah, sure.” She does not look up. She is concentrating on pouring a spirit from a bottle into the neck of the flask.
“Do you think Richard fancies me?”
She looks at me sharply. “Why are you asking?”
“Ben told me.”
This makes her spill the Kirsch, or whatever it is she is putting in the hot chocolate, all over the counter. I should add she has also put Tia Maria and Vodka in there.
“So you have admitted to the jogging and the late night sing songs?”
“Not exactly, Richard told him.”
“Ouch. What did Ben say?”
“That he wished he was here, but he trusted me. But he also thought I should know Richard fancies me? It’s rubbish right? He has a girlfriend?”
“What do you care then, if that is what you believe?”
“Well, I don’t want to spend time with someone if they think it’s one thing and I think it’s another.”
“This sounds like a conversation you should be having with someone else, someone who is built like a brick shit house, has blonde hair and Bambi brown eyes.”
I purse my lips. “Nah, it’s rubbish,” I say after a split second of deep contemplation.
“Although, there is the Freshers’ Ball last year,” Meredith adds raising one eyebrow.
“What about the Freshers’ Ball?”
I remember very little from the first Freshers’ Ball, apart from drooling over Ben, snogging him and passing out. Saying that, I don’t remember a whole lot else from the second Freshers’ Ball either.
Oh, how I have grown.
“Well he is the reason Ben jumped off the stage,” Meredith states this like it is common knowledge.
“Pardon? What?”
Ben jumped off the stage at the Freshers’ Ball last year to try and catch me at the bar. He had seen me before and for some crazy reason remembered me and decided to try and talk to me before he lost me again.
“Well, Ben saw you from the stage, you were staggering all over the place, he watched you head out to that bar area but he could also see Richard watching you as well. Richard started to walk after you but got stopped by a group of guys and Ben decided to take his chance and leapt off the stage to get to you first. Did no one tell you this?”
“Um. No.”
”Well. I guess a few days later it slipped my mind when it was quite clear you had a major thing for Ben and he had one for you.”
“I did not. That quick!”
She tightens the lid onto the flask. “So are you going to ask Richard?”
“Are you frickin’ mad? Hey, Richard, how are you? By the way I am so completely self-obsessed that I think you fancy me. Cue demented laugh. Well, do you?”
“Would it matter if he did?”
“Well I’m not going to fancy him.”
“Then I
would say that’s good enough. He is only a guy that you see occasionally, I don’t think it’s anything for you to worry about.”
“Agreed. When did you get so mature and wise?” I ask her with a playful nudge.
“Lil, I have always been more mature and wise than you.”
Fair Point.
Right that is a relief. I can worry about something else now.
“Is Trist coming out with us?” I ask as we vacate the kitchen.
“Nope, the miserable bugger says he does not want to hang out with student types all the time.”
“Did he really?”
“Yep.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him he was a boring old fart.”
“You’re not wrong. But as he is my twin I have to state that he is not old in the least.”
“Yeah, well he sure acts like it sometimes.”
There is little I can say to argue, but as we put on our coats and head out to meet our friends I can’t help thinking it is a little weird that Tristan is not spending as much time with us as he used to. The other day he did not come to Fez even though last year he was there all the time in the vain hope he might bump into Meredith. This year he can’t even be bothered to come and ooh and aah over some fireworks with us.
I may have to have a discreet word with him to see what is going on.
6th November
“What’s up, fuckface?”
Okay, discreet may not be my forte.
“Lilah? Why on earth are you up? It’s before seven?”
Tristan the Arse manages to sound equal measures of sardonic and sarcastic even when he is sitting in his pyjama’s reading the newspaper.
“I’m going for a run before lectures.”
I’m not really. Well, I may run to the petrol station for a take-away Costa but that is all.
“Going out with your new boy-toy?”
“I am not. And he is not!” I state.
Tristan has to be the only person in the entire world who can wind me up before it is even light outside.
Well, Tristan and my mum. Go figure.
“So why did you not come last night? I think Meredith really missed you.”
I am sure that she did miss him for a little while, before she drank her crazy concoction in her flask and then started sprinting around the bonfire like she was doing a tribal war dance.
“Yeah she must have really missed me,” he grunts back at me.
Tristan is studiously studying the page of the newspaper which is holding his attention—I can just sneak a peek at what it is—the financial pages! Seriously what a bore! There is no way we are related.
“Well she did. So why didn’t you come?”
“Oh I don’t know, Delilah, I just don’t feel like hanging out with a bunch of drunk students all the time. It gets kind of repetitive.”
“Are you talking about me being drunk all the time?”
Tristan gives a little shrug. “Actually, Lil, for once you are the one more in control.”
Shit. If this is me in control, what on earth was I like before?
“What do you mean?”
“Well it’s just a bit annoying you know, having the girls constantly pitching up in party mode. I kind of feel that some nights it’s just nice to stay home.”
“Okay. I can kind of see your point,” I agree. “But, you have to remember that you knew Meredith was a student when you first met her and you were completely up for it. You are the one who has changed not her.”
Tristan gives a shake of the newspaper and raises it up so he cannot see me.
Arse.
“Just saying.” I head into the hallway to find my shoes ready for my moderate jog to the garage.
“She didn’t used to throw up hot chocolate cocktails all over me back then,” he calls after me. He always has to have the last word.
Arse.
Ah, yes, I remember that now. Tristan came to pick us up last night. Meredith snored the whole drive back home and then puked as soon as Tristan tried to get her out of the car. Not her finest moment.
“Oh, by the way,” I call back. “Have you heard from Mum and Dad?”
Tristan gives a little humph and I can hear him rustle the paper as he puts it down and stands up.
“Mum is driving Dad bonkers with her church committee competition.” Tristan leans against the doorframe, blonde hair standing on end, his pyjamas are crisply ironed which makes me believe he does not wear them to actually sleep in.
Yuck. Bad visual image.
“Oh, and she’s still not talking to you after you throwing her out the other week,” he adds.
“I did not throw her out exactly I just told her she could not have any more gin under my roof.”
“Same thing.”
“Whatever.”
I turn to exit the front door.
“Oh, Lilah, could you bring me back a Latte?”
“Kiss my arse.”
“Oh, come on.”
“How about you come and get one with me.”
“Okay, but I’m driving.”
“You’re going to drive two minutes down the road, just to get a coffee?”
“Yep, that’s why I own a car.”
Seriously. What a lazy shit.
“That’s why you’re a prick,” I mutter under my breath before saying louder for his definite hearing. “Okay pick me up down there.”
7th November
I am just settling in for some quality study/snooze time in the library when my phone vibrates on the desk.
I have escaped to the library because I am not overly thrilled about going home. I have no idea what is going on but the atmosphere sucks. Big time. Last night Meredith and Tristan ignored each other the whole night, still in their post fireworks display strop-off.
Great, a text from Meredith: What you up to?
Oh goodness. I love Meredith like a sister but I am not sure I can sit through another evening of strained silence and the banging of doors.
Especially not with the mood I am in today. For once I am in a fantastic mood and I don’t want it ruined. Ben and I had the best ever telephone date last night. I don’t know how but he managed to find a way to talk to me for a whole forty five minutes instead of our normal snatched ten, and it was great. For the first time since he left again the gap between us did not seem too far to bridge. He had me in hysterical giggles telling me about some of the antics Dave has been up to. Let’s put it this way; Dave is not wasting any opportunities, even if they are not particularly attractive ones.
Ben reckons he is going to catch some terrible disease soon or his knob is going to fall off from overuse.
So all in all last night was a good Ben night. I even braved a peek at YouTube clips (yes I know I am a scaredy pants) and I was astounded by just how well they are doing. Something I was only too eager to tell him with immense pride when I spoke to him later.
“Are you only looking at them now?” he chuckled.
I took the opportunity to admit my intense paranoia, which made him giggle even more.
“What did you think? That I was going to be kissing some girl on stage?”
“Maybe?” I admitted.
“You really are completely bonkers.”
“I know.”
There’s just no point denying it.
The phone call was made even better by the fact that I got home from campus to find a cordless phone charged and waiting for me on my pillow.
It had one of Tristan’s sarcastic Post-it notes on it: For the record, I am not Ben’s bitch but just call me Mr. Romantic. T.
I believe Meredith thinks Tristan is very far from Mr. Romantic. It worked for me though. Well, it made me think Ben was very romantic by managing to organise Tristan to go and get one. It made the phone call perfect, as I was able to curl up on my bed with Crazy Kit and talk to Ben without getting a numb bum sitting on the hallway floor.