A Little Rain (18 page)

I think back on my amazing night and morning but know
the biggest hangover is yet to come.  Benny will be back, maybe he’ll be
apologetic and nothing will change.  Just when I want him to act like a prick
he won’t.  My mind whirrs, maybe believing somehow he’s nice now or should just
I end it for good, and take a chance on Etienne who might not even call.  I try
not to think too hard.

I listen to the quiet house noises, gentle creaks and
unexplained knocks.  I doubt this tranquillity base is going to last for long but
the place is all mine for now.  My thoughts spring to Rob, who’s still not
back.  He could be home any second.  He might have spent the whole night out.  
He could have even pulled for all I know or maybe he’s worked late and gone for
breakfast.  I picture him sitting in a cafe at a red and white check tablecloth,
eating an enormous plate of fried breakfast with crispy bacon, fried eggs, two
well browned sausages, warm baked beans, soft tomatoes, mushrooms and cold
buttered toast with a cup of tea with sugar from the shaker.  I now feel very hungry
and thirsty too.  I hear the key being pulled through the letterbox.  My heart
beats hard, a little in surprise and at the same time in relief.  I realise
only then that I was actually pretty concerned.

“Hey-yey!”  I shout.  He doesn’t answer.  “
Good
morning, Ella
!” I call back to myself.  He still doesn’t respond.  When I
see him I am shocked.  He looks awful, drawn and grey, but smiling sort of.  He
certainly looks a bit shiny, like he hasn’t slept.  He smells weird, like
incense smoke and day old sweat, and maybe just a hint of tea.  “When did you
last sleep?”

“Your phone was off.”  He says at last.

“Yeah, sorry.  Battery went dead.”  I say.

“I tried calling you again.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries,” he says. “Date go ok?” he’s still smiling
slightly, smirking even.

“Umm, yeah.”  I blush. “I’m a bit hungover.  Think I’m
going to go college in a bit.”  He nods and I see the shutters rolling down
over his eyes and face.  His body sinks down by a couple of inches.  He looks wrecked. 
He mumbles, barely audible, that he is going to bed.  He goes in his room and
shuts the door softly behind him.  Then my stomach drops.  I’m positively
hoping and praying that there’s no trace of me or Etienne in his bed.  I wait
anxiously outside his door, in fear of him about to charge out and shout at me when
he sees my clothes on the floor, or finds something else.  I can just imagine
his face screaming, “
What the hell is this
?!”  But I wait by his closed
door and my body actually starts to ache from keeping so still and so quiet for
so long.  Still, I keep waiting until I can hear his breathing noises that make
me think he’s asleep.

Then, still worried but still in love, I go back to
the living room and start to daydream.  Etienne is more than beautiful.  My
head is thick with him.  I lie on the sofa and bury my face in the fabrics to try
and smell what’s left of him all over again.  Memories evoked.  I shut my eyes
and only think of him and me and we dance in the clouds and float away in my daydream. 
I cannot do this for long.  The thought I should get my backside up and to
college does not go away.  I can hear Rob snoring quietly now, unmistakable. 
Part of me wants to wake him up and ask how his night went, but I don’t want to
rouse a sleepy wrath.  I won’t touch him.  He can tell me all there is to tell
later.  I’m happy just to think about Etienne for now.  However, my daydream
has flat-lined.  I don’t know what to do.  I honestly think I could go back to
bed, just forget college and sleep and dream.  How lazy of me.  No.  The
weekend has finished and I should go.  I have already missed the morning
session.  Education is important.  For me, it really is the only way forward. 
Staying in bed is going to do me no good.  Learning is earning.  Qualifications
might just help to get me somewhere with my going nowhere life.  It’s hard work,
of course.  Daydreaming is easy.  Staying in bed is easy too.  It’s not an effortless
option but it’s the right thing to do.

Suddenly I notice the time on the video player and I
need to move faster now and not be late.  I will let Rob rest.  Later, I can
make sure everything’s ok and if it’s not, I can make it alright.  I still long
to see Ruby and think maybe we could try and sort out a weekday.  We could take
her round to mum’s or out for tea.  Maybe we could go swimming or to the zoo or
even just the park.  I don’t know.  Something.  I think Rob needs cheering up too
definitely.  I will speak to mum for advice later over dinner.  I smile with positive
thoughts in mind.  I remember the promise of hot sausages, beans and well
buttered mash.  I crave a cup of sweet tea too.  The thought of food makes me
suddenly starving.  I can get something to eat on my way in to college.  Maybe
that’s why I feel shaky now.  I will grab some southern fried chicken and some chips
too on my way in.  I want to get out now as quick as I can, try not to make too
much noise and let Rob sleep peacefully

I head for the bathroom to try and ready myself.  In
there I have to hold on to the sink to balance as suddenly I don’t feel well
again.  Looking in the mirror dirty with toothpaste splatters, I realise only
now, I look absolutely dreadful.  A family of spiders has died in my eyes and
their black squashed bodies are stretching down my cheeks.  The rest of my face
is a horror of white and red blotches, like a paintball attack.  My forehead a big
shiny plastic brick.  My hair is quite literally a bird’s nest.  And to think I
showed my face to the world like this.  And to Etienne.  Oh.  God.  I quickly
shower in green apple bubbles and wash my hair with peach scented shampoo.  I
feel wobbly when I shut my eyes, like I might fall over.  I keep having to hold
on.  I use nearly a whole tube of gritty face scrub to scour my face and eyes
clean.

As I step out of the shower, I feel hot, sick and
tired.  I don’t feel like going to college but think I have to now.  I don’t
feel well enough even to put make up on.  I pull on my comfiest jogging
bottoms, a thick hoodie, socks and trainers and head out of the flat.  I take
with me my backpack and I’m heading for the door.  I just need to find a
notepad.  I know if I forget I am not going to learn anything.  I have to write
things down.  If I just sit and listen I will end up daydreaming, especially
today, it’s going to be hard to keep my mind off Etienne.  With pen in hand I
seem more able to concentrate.  I pick up a scruffy notebook from the mantelpiece
but I cannot find a pen.  The thought of searching again makes me feel sicker
still and I just feel like I’m wasting more time.  A pencil would do.

Body suddenly says:
Can’t cope with this.  About to
collapse.
 I’m just going to have to leave.  I can borrow a pen from
someone when I get there.  Hopefully I’m not the only one that turns up.  I
could always borrow a pen from the teacher.  Anyway enough thinking!  Time to
move.  As I do, my head doesn’t feel great at all and it’s spinning again and I
start to feel sick in my stomach.  Acid rises from my belly to my throat.  I
have to get out.  I bend down to tie my laces quickly and the blood rushes to
my head and thumps in my ears.  I stand up too fast and my vision goes AWOL for
a few seconds.  Slowly it returns.  I steady myself against the front door
until I have control again.  I have to go.  I force myself almost at a run
outside, feeling with every step that I might fall down.  I get out fast and
breathe the fresh air.  I slam the door in haste, regretfully forgetting Rob.

Only when I’m walking on and breathing deep, I feel a
little better.  I stride head on into the breeze, ignoring everything around me
and concentrating hard on getting well soon.  I stalk on looking dead ahead,
not even at the pavement, god-knows-what I might be treading in.  The air
smells fresh and clean and definitely seems to have medicinal powers.  The coolness
feels like a nurse is gently stroking my forehead.

I quickly drop into the chicken shop as I am sure that
some food will make me feel better.  My stomach growls loud as I walk in.  I
order two chicken pieces, a wing and a leg, and chips, tomato sauce and salt. 
The chips are fresh and hot.  I blow on them so I can eat them quicker.  I sit
in the shop for less than five minutes to devour it all.  I leave on the table
the empty little box with only ketchup smears and bones left behind.

I get to college and it’s busy.  It smells of coffee
and damp coats today.   There are people everywhere, outside, inside, doddering
about.  I have to struggle to weave in and out to get where I’m going. 
Eventually I make it through the crowds into my classroom.  There are two
people in there.  One I have never seen before and the other is Heidi.  She’s a
nice girl I sometimes talk to.  I ask her if I can borrow a pen.  She lends me
a blue biro with a lid on it that’s chewed.  This makes me feel sick again, but
being penless, I can’t be fussy.

We wait about ten minutes before some more people and
the teacher turn up.  As class begins to start the tutor asks politely for
everyone to switch their mobiles off or put them on silent at least.  I unfocus
from the middle distance and reach for my bag.  I pull it onto the table in
front of me and dig about for my phone.  It doesn’t come to hand so it must be
right at the bottom.   One by one, I get each thing out.  Wallet, notepad, tissues,
gloves, gum, half empty water bottle and I soon realise it’s not there at all. 
Panic grips me and I jolt in my chair and start shaking the bag around, then I
scrabble about at my pockets and look around on the floor.  I’m causing a bit of
a scene at this point and I notice everyone in class is looking.  So I stop and
say sorry and quietly think to myself did I even bring it?  I don’t remember
having it with me as I left.  Then I remember.  Instant relief.  I left it at
home on charge.  I quietly sit back down in my chair and the lesson restarts.

This is one on my English classes.  Language and
literature and are my favourite subjects.  Today is Literature.  Poetry to be
precise.  I love it.  Simple on the surface but then so smart.  A bit like some
works of art you see that look basic at first but the longer you look, the more
you see.  A bit like a fantasy, it takes you away.  I love poems.  I like
reading them.  I love writing them.  I’ve written quite a few now.  My teachers
don’t discourage it and say it’s good to be imaginative but don’t rely on
writing poems to get you an A-grade.  You won’t get far without putting in the
hard work and study.  But it’s my outlet.  A hobby.  Here’s one I wrote just
now, in the tedious minutes we were waiting for the teacher to arrive.  See if
you can guess who it is about.

King Bee

No name but I know you. 

Strutting.  All swagger.  

Attitude.  I used to love you. 

Until I was abused by you.

No more.  No more.

I don’t need you.

Got somebody new.

It’s no masterpiece.  I like to write and hope that one
day, other people may enjoy it too.  It’s a release.  That’s why I made all
this effort to come to class today.  I love learning.  I’m fascinated by
anything I don’t yet know.  I want to know it all, although that’s impossible. 
I just want an education and the later you leave it in life I think the harder
it is to get.  It’s something to fall back on.  I can use it to escape.  Making
better of yourself can never be a bad thing.  I feel so much better for staying
at school and coming to class today, although I don’t seem to be learning that
much today.

As the lecture goes on I feel my tiredness creep up on
me.  At first I keep my concentration and hold my eyes open but my lids start
to droop.  It’s a struggle not to shut them as exhaustion drops down over me
like a stage curtain.  I start to think about my bed.  My mind starts wandering
and I want to be sleeping and dreaming about the weekend.  I force myself to
snap out of it and try and listen.  I shake my head a little.  I keep my eyes
on the teacher for as long as I can without blinking.  I imagine I have little
matchsticks between my eyelids now, propping them up, forcing them open, but
really all my efforts are not much use.  My lids feel lead-lined and just keep
closing.  I just about hold it together for the first hour and the ten minute
break doesn’t come soon enough.  I snap to my senses when teacher says, “Ok.  Let’s
have a break.”

I get to my feet and take myself and my bag quickly to
the canteen for a large strong coffee, no milk, four brown sugars.  I drink it
as fast as I can although it’s scalding hot and it burns my mouth.  It feels
like a snake has bitten my tongue.  I curse myself.  I feel that horrible numb
tingle that is not going to go away quickly.  I was just too keen.  I take it
back to my class.  I sit down at my desk and look again for my phone in my bag,
remembering again only then that I definitely don’t have it.  It’s on the
coffee table.  I miss it a lot, more than I thought I would.  I can’t keep
track of time without it.  I keep asking people for the time but feel too awkward
to ask as often as I would like.  I have a bad feeling too, not being near my
phone.  I’m anxious about who might have called or sent a text.  I start to
think bad thoughts and feel scared something has happened.  What if Rob’s tried
to call?  Or Benny?  Or mum?  Or Etienne even?  Then I remember I gave my
number to Jon too.  I almost forgot him.  Creep.  I’m worried a little but
think it’s not that long.  I’ll only be out for a couple of hours.  If anyone
wanted me that urgently, they could always come and find me at college.  I’m
not a million miles away and wouldn’t be that hard to find.  I relax a little.