2 #2
‘Turn around, Ed.’ We both turn in the direction of the garden where Caitlin sits flanked by Tommy and Steve from P.E.
They’re all sharing in some sort of joke that involves Tommy looking like he’s mimicking riding a horse.
Caitlin is in hysterics. ‘That’s what you’re competing with.
I pray to God that poor sweet girl doesn’t succumb to those dickish charms. But carry a tray of tequila out there and you’re suddenly cool.
You’re bringing the party to the masses. ’
‘This feels like a weapon you’ve used in your arsenal on many an occasion, Mia,’ replies Ed.
‘Slippery Nipples,’ I inform him.
‘Pardon me…?’
‘I worked nightclub bars at university. They’re Baileys and Schnapps. I was known for my Slippery Nipples.’
‘I don’t want to know.’
‘Trust me.’ I turn to the barman to give him the nod, his eyes still reading faint horror at what may unfold. ‘We walk out with those, and those poor tired teachers will thank you for bringing a sliver of joy and fun to their Friday nights.’
ED
Mia Johnson may indeed be one of the most evil and foolish people I know.
I lie on her bathroom floor in a state of complete delirium but also slightly unsure whether this surface is sanitary.
I roll over and am faced with a box of light flow Tampax so I roll the other way. There’s a light knocking on the door.
‘Ed, are you OK? Are you alive?’ I can hear Mia laughing.
We are no longer friends. Yes, we bought tequila, tequila for everyone, and she walked into that beer garden, the tray perched on her fingers, hand on her hip and announced her arrival.
And the crowd moaned as they relived memories of their past experiences with tequila, recoiling with pained grimaces –but did that deter them?
No. Their eyes also lit up to see the saltshakers, the lemon wedges, pulling up their sleeves and clenching their fists to relive it all over again.
Naturally, the P.E. boys grabbed the shots and may as well have beat their chests before they downed them. I saw Caitlin look up at Tommy in wild admiration, her head thrown back in laughter, so I reached for a glass and I did the same.
Except I did not look like Tommy after I downed mine.
Tommy roared to the skies. I gurned so hard, I thought my face may never recover.
One stiff breeze and I’d have looked like I was having a stroke for the rest of my living days.
Mia, who was also post-shot, saw that face and snorted something through her nose, possibly a bit of lemon zest. In short, it was possibly my most unattractive moment on this planet, so I hope Caitlin didn’t see any of it.
However, the problem was that Mia didn’t stop there.
Sure, the shots relaxed the tone of the place.
The ladies from the office used that tequila to get a few decibels louder and take two hundred filtered selfies.
Henry from Geography used the moment to indulge in a bit of Cossack dancing.
So this encouraged Mia to unleash bedlam.
She may as well have been wearing devil horns.
She bought more shots. I felt compelled to keep up with the room. I drank the shots.
‘Do you want some water?’ I hear her voice whisper through the door.
‘I think I may need a drip. Do you have anything intravenous in the house?’
‘Unfortunately, no. Do I need to get an exorcist? I’ve not heard sounds like that before.’
I crawl across the bathroom tiles to the door and reach up to undo the latch, falling to the floor dramatically once it’s done. I turn over and see Mia’s face looking down at me, chomping on a toasted bagel. She holds it over me.
‘It’s peanut butter? You want?’ she asks me, licking her lips, crumbs falling onto my face. ‘It’s smooth, I know you don’t do crunchy.’
‘Noooooo. I think I’m dying,’ I moan, putting my cold face to the tiles. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘I did nothing,’ she says innocently, eyes wide like a drunk kitten. How is she still standing? She also seems to have changed into what appear to be tiny zebra print boxer shorts and a cropped T-shirt, her belly button and a flash of her knickers on display.
‘You enabled the situation. Harriet from the office won’t be allowed in the pub ever again. They may need to re-decorate.’
‘That’s because Harriet still drinks those alcopop drinks from the nineties. They don’t mix well with anything. They are nasty.’
‘I think I may have thrown up a lung.’
‘As long as it doesn’t block my toilet,’ she murmurs through a mouthful of bagel.
She crouches down beside me, putting her back to the wall of the corridor and pats my head like one would a pet. All I see is animal print and for a small moment I hallucinate that an actual jungle beast is coming to eat me.
‘Did you get a chance to chat to her then? Caitlin?’ she asks me.
At present, Caitlin is the last thing on my mind. I think I may have possibly wet myself.
‘No. I’ve killed that.’ I can’t quite tell if I’m floating or if I’m on the floor. The tile patterns are making me poorly.
‘Not necessarily. Those shots finished Tommy off. When we left, he was asleep on a bench in the pub garden. You at least outdid him in that respect. Lightweight.’
‘Yes, but do you think she saw me throwing up outside the chicken shop opposite though? That’s not a good look…’
‘She was long gone by then.’
I cringe at the memory of thinking fried chicken was a good idea. ‘I may never eat again. Did Caitlin leave with anyone?’ I enquire.
‘Not that I saw. She told me she needed to be up bright and early for a Park Run. She’s a runner like you, see? Something in common. We had a nice chat, seems like a sound girl.’
I can’t feel my face. I think it might actually be stuck to these tiles.
There is also a fair bit of hair down here, collected in tumbleweed style balls.
I hope it’s hair from a head. The thought that I may be inhaling errant pubes makes my stomach turn again.
I want to ask questions. What did you talk about?
Did you at least mention my name so I’m in her sphere of consciousness?
‘I’m cold,’ I mutter. Mia reaches up and throws a towelling dressing gown over me. ‘Is this what death feels like?’
‘That is what tequila feels like.’ She finishes her bagel and takes an unusually noisy sip of tea.
‘So loud… How does someone drink tea so loud?’ I moan, her big slurps moving me to tears.
‘I don’t think you’ve ruined your chances there, you know? I think we’ve given her a glimpse into the fact you go down the pub, you’re one of the cool kids.’
‘Except I’m not.’
‘You are. Know your worth, Ed Rogers. You’re cool to me.
’ Mia sits there next to me, puts down her mug of tea and begins scrolling through her phone, pausing only to push a pint glass of water in my direction.
I raise my head and attempt to take a small sip, through puckered aching lips.
My stomach lurches again, feeling raw, like I’ve turned it inside out.
I can feel everything and nothing in my body.
I want to apologise to it so badly. Please forgive this abuse.
‘I think I’ve found her on social media too. ’
She holds a phone to my eyes, and I squint to adjust my vision.
CB_Teaches_Maths. Oh, the joy of a teacher username so the kids can never find us.
My heart aches to see squares of perfectly curated pictures of her, nothing off-putting like skewed political opinions or an over-reliance on filters and hashtags.
She just seems really, really nice. And she runs.
And brings her own lunch to school. And likes pesto.
‘It’s OK. It’ll never happen. Just forget it,’ I say, pushing the phone away drunkenly. The room swirls for a moment like we’re at sea. I see glimpses of things in that moment, Mia’s look of pity, a cobweb on the underside of her sink, three empty toilet roll tubes lying sadly on the floor.
‘It might happen,’ Mia says.
‘Things like that don’t happen for me…’ I start to drone on, and then laugh under my breath at how the roles have reversed today.
It’s usually Mia lying here, drunk, tearfully murmuring about how she’s done nothing meaningful with her life, me making sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit.
‘I just think it’s never going to happen. I’ve left it too late.’
‘Stop being dramatic, you tool. You’ve known her for twelve hours,’ she says, her face illuminated by her phone light. Is she sat there on Twitter while I’m dying?
‘I’m twenty-eight. How has it not happened yet?’
‘You’re losing me. Like you keep telling me, we’re still young for all of that… We have time,’ she mumbles, trying to placate me.
‘But how have I not had sex yet?’ I splutter. Shit.
‘With her?’ Mia asks me, confused.
But my defences are gone, they are down. They got washed away in a wave of tequila and now I’m lying here shipwrecked on this bathroom floor, vulnerable, exposed. Quite literally. Where did my trousers go?
‘No, like ever.’
And with that there’s a loud thump to my forehead as Mia drops her phone and it lands on my temple, potentially crushing any sense of self-esteem I had left. I just said that out loud, didn’t I? I told her. Shit, shit, shit.
‘ED, ARE YOU A VIRGIN?’ she shrieks.
And with that, a door opens on the other side of the corridor, and a figure emerges in avocado print pyjamas. ‘Mia, how many times do I have to tell you… If you’re bringing visitors back, then keep the noise down! It’s past midnight! And why the fuck is he covering his balls with my dressing gown?’
*
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