The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files)

by Bloom, Anna

  There are pros and cons to carefully consider.

  Pro: I will no longer have to whine at Ben to make me a snack and stand there like a pleb whilst he cooks.

  Con: I might starve.

  22nd February

  2.00 p.m.

  I have taken to singing. I categorically cannot sing. It makes all the local cats stand by the window and yowl.

  However, it does seem to do a very good job of winding Ben up, which makes it a worthwhile pursuit.

  I don’t know why I feel the need to wind him up. It’s just pissing me off that he seems to be dealing with the whole ‘friends’ thing more easily than me.

  I have been putting in some Taylor time just to make my point clear. Ben banged on my wall until I stopped earlier today—when "Story of Us" was the song du Jour—which I thought was rather rude. I giggled away to myself afterwards pleased at the fact that I had clearly succeeded in irritating him, until I heard him playing the same song on his guitar back through the wall, making it sound much more tuneful than me. I’m not sure what point he was trying to make.

  It could be read in two ways:

  He took on board the comment I’d made in Lyme and has been trying to understand what I was very poorly attempting to explain to him.

  He thinks my singing is truly awful (which it is) and is demonstrating in his frustratingly superior manner how much better he is at everything than I am. This only highlights for me the fact that we are better off only being friends.

  I kind of really want it to be reason one, but I have the feeling that it is more than likely reason two.

  He still waits for me after class, before giving me a cheery wave at the bottom of the stairs and heading off to meet his new friends. How come he managed to make new friends the other night at the bar? I just ended up talking to him and then obsessing about him even more afterwards. It seems unfair to me.

  Maybe I should try to go out on a date or something?

  Who is going to go out with me? It is quite clear that I am infatuated with Benjamin Chambers. It’s only been a few days since Valentine's. How is he finding it so easy to do the whole friends thing? I want to ask him. The idea’s making me cross.

  We went from meeting his mum and sisters, and having mind-blowing "personal relations," to standing in the freezing cold, telling each other that we should just be friends.

  Oh god, I know this is my fault. All he wanted was for me to commit to something, but as usual ‘Scaredy Pants Lilah’ was completely unable to commit to anything, and now he has decided that our little game is not worth playing anymore and he is moving on. I always knew that it was going to be over at some point. I just figured that maybe I would see a little more moping about. Or, better yet, he would be in a different country and I could just imagine that he was moping about, even if he wasn’t. This is worse. Far, far, worse.

  Taylor is singing "Haunted." I would join in, but I would not want anyone to bang on the wall.

  It is Saturday for goodness’ sake, and I am sitting on my bed like Billy No Mates with nothing to do.

  I wonder if Meredith wants to do something.

  2.15 p.m.

  Damn it! She is not in. She must be out being all romantic with my brother.

  I wonder if Jayne wants to do something.

  2.17 p.m.

  Bollocks. She also has a life. I think Goth Chick is here, but I am not sure I can cope with that. No offence to her, but I find her a little hard to communicate with, something to do with looking at that amount of makeup. It is like talking to someone wearing sunglasses.

  2.20 p.m.

  I think I might have a go at cooking something. I wonder what you need to make spaghetti Bolognese? I shall Google it and then attempt to create myself a gastronomic feast.

  2.30 p.m.

  Blimey! Apparently you need quite a lot of stuff.

  Garlic

  Onion

  Mince

  Celery? Why?

  Carrot? Really?

  It all looks a little complicated, but I shall resist the urge to buy a jar of sauce and will do it myself. Who knows? I could turn out to be a Bolognese whizz, and could get myself a job in an Italian restaurant to pay for my studies.

  Asda or Waitrose?

  Asda: More appropriate for my student budget.

  Waitrose: A far nicer shopping experience.

  Bugger it. I am going to Waitrose.

  5.00 p.m.

  Okay, that was more expensive than expected. I just spent a rather large sum of money on the makings of dinner for one. I did buy a case of wine, but that is to go in the sauce. Well, some of it is.

  I may just have a small glass before I start chopping, just to make sure it is okay to go in the Bolognese.

  6.00 p.m.

  Mmm. That is good wine. I can completely see why it was ten pounds a bottle.

  6.45 p.m.

  Oops-a-daisy! I thought it was half price but checked the receipt and think that maybe it was twenty quid.

  That’s quite funny. I just drank a twenty-pound bottle of wine by myself! Whilst singing Adele at the top of my lungs. I am sure "Someone Like You" was never meant to sound like that.

  This is great, though. Here I am feeding myself, standing on my own two feet enjoying some quality Lilah time. Life doesn’t get much better than this!

  Okay, I am going to go and cook and try not to drink anymore wine. I am supposed to be putting it in the sauce.

  23rd February

  9.00 a.m.

  I have a red wine headache from hell.

  I don’t think that any of the wine got in the sauce, but thankfully by the time we got around to eating, everyone had drunk so much of the outrageously expensive red they would not have noticed. It’s a fact: I will never be offered a job in an Italian restaurant unless it is working in the scullery washing up.

  I sliced the top of my finger off, mistaking it for a carrot, which I was trying to julienne. Unfortunately, I do not have a clue what ‘julienne’ means, but I am pretty sure you are not supposed to do it to your finger. Then Ben walked in on my culinary crime scene.

  Annoying much? Glug, glug, glug.

  I downed half a glass of wine, trying to distract myself from the blood fountain when he came dashing up, grabbing my bleeding digit, and shoving it under the tap in the sink, which had made me go all weird and semi-pass out. This was embarrassing and not at all what I was aiming for when I had started my cooking endeavours.

  I drank another half glass of wine to try and stop my pathetic heart palpitations caused by Ben holding my hand whilst bandaging the wound and then smoothing my hair whilst I tried not to pass out.

  For future reference, squatting on the floor with my head between my knees is not a good look.

  (Let’s be honest. By this point I was pretty tipsy.)

  “What on earth are you doing, Lilah?

  “Cooking.”

  “Yes, I see that,” he says in a stern, disapproving voice. (Cue me drinking more wine.) “But what are you cooking? Maybe I could, you know, help. If you like?”

  “Oh. Yes, if you like."

  “I just asked if I could help.”

  “Are you not out with your new super-duper very important new friends?”

  This is met with a confused eyebrow raise.

  “I have been at the library,” he says.

  “What? For four hours?”

  Stalker alert!

  “There were some journals that I found interesting.”

  “Really? You found some journals interesting?”

  “Yes, Lilah. What are you cooking, and do you want my help?”

  I should say ‘No’. But of course I say ‘Yes’.

  “Spaghetti
Bolognese,” I say with a sigh of resignation.

  “You made this much mess for spaghetti Bolognese?”

  “Look, Mr. Perfect, we can’t all be blessed with amazing culinary skills.”

  “Well, that’s true,” he says with a sarcastic nod of the head.

  I could fight it, but, really, what would be the point? Instead, I grab another glass and pour some wine for him—my one true culinary skill. He gives a small smirk when I hand him his drink. I think he almost says the thought out loud but holds himself in check.

  I hop onto the counter determined to at least watch what he is doing so I can remember for next time. Next time, when he is not around to help me anymore, and is probably making spaghetti with some skinny blonde American who is clad only in black lacy underwear.

  I do not watch him cook at all. Instead I observe his low slung jeans encase his mighty tidy bottom, and I watch his long fingers prepare the vegetables—without any blood loss. Show off! I also watch his mouth as he talks to me, and I watch his smile and the blues when he turns to me, occasionally giving me his killer grin with crinkles. The whole time he cooks and I sit perving, the conversation flows between us, not once edging near any sensitive subjects. I drink more and more of the ridiculously expensive wine and try to keep myself from launching off the counter and dry-humping his leg while he cooks.

  So basically I learnt absolutely nothing about cooking spaghetti Bolognese. But I did learn the fact that I am still an outrageous Ben Chambers stalker.

  And I most definitely am still completely in love with him.

  Fuck.

  Thankfully, Tristan and Meredith came home before we had to do the whole awkward sit down to eat together. Though I was slurring badly by the time we ate, the food was delicious, as was the company. It was a great evening, the four of us sitting there just laughing and giggling over our food and drink, much like we did before the whole underwear incident, and much like we did at Christmas, except Christmas had ended with us having amazing sex.

  Last night ended with a hand squeeze in the hallway outside our doors.

  A hand squeeze.

  A frigging hand squeeze.

  Now I am stuck in my room, with yet another hangover whilst trying to avoid the annoyingly sexy boy from next door.

  I am proud of how far I have come in the last five months.

  Not.

  24th February

  10.00 a.m.

  I am back under the duvet.

  I have re-read my entries from the last couple of weeks.

  I have been a complete dick head. On Valentine’s Day, all Ben wanted was for me to admit that I felt more than something physical for him.

  WHICH I DO.

  But, oh no, I just couldn’t say it. I stood there like a dim-witted nut job and said all the wrong things, which I have been moping about ever since.

  This whole ‘friends’ thing is completely and utterly my fault.

  I should just go and knock on his door right now and tell him that it has all been a complete misunderstanding and that really I do feel a lot for him, and would he perhaps hang around and cook me spaghetti Bolognese forever?

  Or I could just stay under my duvet.

  11.00 a.m.

  Okay. Duvet today.

  2.00 p.m.

  I think maybe I should come up with a plan of attack to try and win him back. This whole separation between us has been caused by me. I should try and fix it.

  Tomorrow I will try harder to show him that I can manage something more than friends. I know it will only be for a short time, but it has got to be better than obsessing about him and stalking him but not doing anything about it.

  I just need to say, "Yes, Ben. I do completely love having sex with you, but I am also in love with you as well."

  That should be easy. I'll just have to embrace the truth for once.

  25th February

  “Hey, Ben. Do you fancy a trip to the library?”

  “Oh. Sorry, Lilah, I have got football practice.”

  “Football practice?”

  “Yeah, I joined the team.”

  “Why?”

  “I had some free time. Seemed like fun.”

  “Oh. Okay, then. Well, have a good time.”

  “Thanks. See ya about.”

  It’s a date with the duvet again.

  26th February

  Tristan is getting worried that we are not going to find a place to live in time.

  My brother really is a big girl's blouse.

  He dragged me to see another flat today but it really was so hideous. I can’t help thinking that we are looking at the wrong things. He wants a flat because they are a teeny bit cheaper, but everything we have seen has been completely appalling.

  Today, the third ‘bedroom’ was really a glorified airing cupboard. I think I may branch out a little and see if I can convince him to try something else. The way things are going, we will be living in a caravan parked outside of campus in September.

  Meredith is very blasé. I think she feels guilty that we are funding it all, though Tristan and I have both assured her that she can pay her own way once Uni is over.

  It is a worry, though. Even with Tristan paying the mortgage, I’m not sure how I am going to afford to live next year.

  I might have to get a job or something equally drastic.

  Maybe I should have a look about for a job now? It will give me something to do other than stalk the boy next door. I could do with a new project. Maybe I will find someone new to stalk.

  Oh god, that just shows how low I have fallen. I am thinking about stalking someone new, just so I can try not to think about the person I am actually stalking.

  Football? I am still in a state of shock over that one. Surely he should be practising guitar or something. Perhaps writing some award-winning lyrics.

  Football?

  Taylor is singing "Teardrops on my Guitar."

  I feel like smacking myself over the head with a guitar, sod the teardrops.

  27th February

  Where can I get a job? I think I need to write a list of my abilities and work out what I can do.

  I like to read, but only on a casual basis.

  I like to jog, slowly, with an oxygen tank.

  I like to drink wine, but that's not typically allowed while on the clock.

  I like to smoke, a luxury I will soon be unable to afford.

  I like to stalk tall, dark, handsome men. Well, only one, but I am open to new stalking opportunities, though that might distract from my duties.

  I have an amazing memory for detail, but only in relation to object of stalking.

  That is it. That is the sum list of my abilities.

  Meredith has also written a list but I think she may be drunk. She sat on the end of my bed giggling as she wrote the list then dashed out of the door full speed.

  Meredith list goes like this:

  Lilah is kind.

  Lilah has pretty hair, now that it is grown out a little and not looking like it was cut by a demented person.

  Lilah makes an awesome Christmas dinner so long as you are not too hungry or pressed for time.

  Lilah is very good at making cat piss tea in a crisis.

  Lilah is very good at giving hugs and holding hands when you are upset.

  Lilah would make a very good rock star girlfriend/wife if only she wasn’t such a dick.

  This is a problem. I have no clue how I am going to get a job with these skills.

  How the hell did I manage to hold down that job at the bank for all those years? I really should have pushed the tea trolley around. How on earth did I end up on the trading floor? It must have been a complete fluke, or my dad pulled some major
strings.

  I am unemployable. And I am working toward a History degree, which will make me even more unemployable. Fact.

  Oh shit!

  I have just realised something monumental. It really was my dad who’d helped me get my career started. It pains me to think it because he annoys me so much, but he must have really put his neck on the line to get me that job. Then I just gave it all up, with no thanks or anything. I just pissed off to university without a second thought. I then proceeded to dump the guy that he welcomed into our family with open arms.

  Oh, no. Now I feel like the world’s worst daughter.

  Should I, though? It was only a month ago that he was trying to bribe me back.

  But was he? Or was he just giving me an escape route.

  I told him to stick it up his arse.

  28th February

  It’s the end of February. What have I achieved since the beginning of the year?

  I joined the gym . . . then left

  I gave up alcohol . . . but then started again due to the depressing realities of life.

  I re-ignited my amazing love affair with the sexy boy next door . . . then accidentally stopped it again by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

  I went from having sex numerous times a day . . . to having none.

  The good news is that I am really enjoying my studies.

  That is the only good news I have.

  According to Dad’s estate agent, someone has put an offer in on the Putney flat. So I shall now be homeless as well.

  Great! Bloody great.

  Oh, hold on, one more thing, I must not forget.

  Ben is leaving for a trial run in the United States in three weeks all because I am too stupid to tell him that I love him and I want him to stay.

  March

  1st March

  Two really weird things happened last night.

  Weird Thing Number One

  I had been going into the kitchen to create a gourmet dinner of Cheerios, but stopped in shock at the door. Inside the kitchen is a girl that I have never ever seen before. She is very pretty, but I have no idea who she is. The first thing that flashes through my mind is that Ben has decided to move out of his room and live with his new super-duper football buddies somewhere. Maybe the university have already let out his room?