Jacob #2
Already his head felt a little woozy. When was the last time he’d had an alcoholic drink?
He tried to cast his mind back, his brain struggling to sift through the years of discarded and disjointed memories.
Fragments of a past he never revisited. A jumble of places and faces that swirled around without rhyme or reason.
Maybe he was drunker than he thought.
‘Here you go.’ The barman switched his empty for a full glass, and Jacob downed half of it straight away. The tepid fizz tickled his nose, and the warm, sweet taste of hops coated the back of his throat.
‘Jesus, that’s disgusting.’ He winced, slamming the glass down and staring around the room. For a relatively crap bar, it was full. A mixture of locals and tourists milled about on the makeshift dance floor, whilst groups of tired old men
gathered in the corners and along the bar. It wouldn’t have been his top choice of venue, but it was the first one he’d stumbled upon after storming from the hostel.
Two girls shrieked ecstatically as their accompanying group of young men made their way through a tray of suspicious-looking shots, each one trying to outdrink and outshine the next.
Oh, to be young.
Jacob took another swig of his drink, catching his reflection in the dusty mirror that hung in front of him.
To the untrained eye, all that stared back was a youthful, sun-bleached, run-of-the-mill traveller.
But Jacob could see the signs: the weariness in his eyes and the weight growing heavy on his shoulders.
Back in the day, he too would have been grabbing the shots and laughing wildly in the centre of the group, trying to be one of the guys.
One of the gang. A collection of lone wolves, huddling together to try and belong to a pack for a night.
Making friends within seconds, promising to stay in touch for more than the twenty-four hours you got wasted with them.
It was fun for a bit and, at least for a while, it had helped him to pretend that he wasn’t totally by himself in this world.
But you can’t run from the truth for ever.
And over time it had become too hard to lie any more.
To find excuses not to meet up with people again, to sit with the guilt he felt at ignoring them, to have to leave people behind over and over again.
It was easier, in the end, not to try in the first place.
‘Hey, you.’ One of the squealing girls had sidled up beside him, her long, blonde hair draping over both their shoulders. ‘You look a little lonely over here.’ She placed a cool hand on his shoulder, her breath sharp with liquor.
‘Oh no, I’m fine.’ He remained as still as possible,
knowing that one infinitesimal engagement with her and he was done for. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘Come on
’ – she leant in closer – ‘you’re too cute to be drinking by yourself.’
Whether it was the hand moving on to his, the heat radiating from her skin, or simply a momentary lapse in control, Jacob turned to face her. She was pretty. Very pretty, in fact, with a sparkling smile and amber eyes. She was staring at him hard, her body inching towards his ever so slightly.
God, how long had it been?
If you’re asking that question, it’s been too long.
Would one night matter? It wouldn’t mean anything, and nobody would get hurt.
Just like that, the orange eyes of the strange girl became a dazzling blue. The tanned skin faded to a pearly white and Olivia’s face stared back at him.
‘Shit.’ He jerked backwards, knocking his glass and spilling beer over both of their hands. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.’
‘That’s OK.’ She wiped her hand on his shorts in a clear act of seduction, but unfortunately for Jacob, the moment had well and truly gone. ‘Let me buy you another,’ she whispered.
‘No. I’m fine.’
‘Come on
,’ she purred again, pressing herself into him hard.
‘I said no!’ he shouted, all at once feeling stifled by the sickly-sweet smell of her perfume. ‘I’ve had enough already. I just want to be left alone.’
‘Jesus.’ She removed her hand and straightened up, only allowing the disappointment of rejection to mark her perfectly
made-up face for a second. ‘There’s no need to be like that. I was only trying to be friendly …’
As she flicked her hair over her shoulder and walked away, Jacob could have sworn he heard her mutter the word ‘arsehole’ under her breath. She may be pissed off now, but he knew deep down he was doing her a favour. After all, wasn’t he just a selfish and careless human being
? One that his dad had given up on years ago, it seemed.
‘Bastard.’ Jacob grimaced, gripping the glass so tightly in his hand it was at risk of breaking. ‘Hypocritical bastard
.’
As he recalled his dad’s words, Jacob was overcome with a whole new series of memories.
He was five years old; his dad had been away on business for six weeks and he was due home that day.
Within an hour of arriving, he’d already left again, with his bags packed for yet another work trip.
All Jacob got was a gruff hello and a pat on the head.
He was now six; his mother had been crying for days on end, unable to get out of bed, let alone take care of him. When he’d asked her what was wrong, she cried, ‘Your father, it’s always your father.’
Then he was eight, and his dad had cleared his things from the house.
No trace of him remained, except the anger and betrayal that poured from every cell of his mother.
Jacob had been sat down by his dad and, in a sixty-second conversation, been told that he needed to go and live with his new family now, but that Jacob would always be his first-born son, and that would always mean something.
And I’m the selfish one, hey?
The torrent of flashbacks was too much, the music suddenly too loud and the darkness too enveloping. Jacob had to leave. He had to get out into the fresh air and away from all the noise and drunken chaos. As he stood, he
stumbled backwards, his head pounding and a shooting pain ripping through the back of his skull. Panic flooded him immediately.
You’re OK. It’s just the drink.
He managed to steady himself just enough to find the exit, practically bursting out on to the street. The anxiety lessened a little from the instant hit of air and the fading sound of the drum and bass, but the sensation in his head was still very present and very painful.
You’re fine.
He made his way back to the hostel, each step slow and deliberate, whilst his body throbbed in hurt.
Everything is fine.
*
The next morning, Jacob woke up in a world of pain.
His head was still aching, and his body felt exhausted.
It took him much longer than usual to rouse from sleep, and even longer to finally get up and out of bed.
Dread spread through his body, covering him like a second skin.
Surely he couldn’t be this hungover from a few beers?
At the thought his stomach gurgled, the taste of hops still lingering on his tongue despite cleaning his teeth three times.
God, this wasn’t how he wanted this day to start.
It was, after all, a rolling day: the most exciting and hopeful day of every week.
After a month stuck in Delhi, the anticipation of a potential move should have had him leaping from the sheets and sprinting down the stairs.
Kushal had become almost as invested as him in his weekly ritual, captivated by the bizarre rigmarole that Jacob undertook with his dice and his lists.
Kushal.
Jacob’s face burnt in shame. The way he’d snapped at his
friend last night, pushed him to come out with him, and stormed away like a toddler when he didn’t get what he wanted. What must the boy think of him?
‘Only one way to find out,’ he mumbled under his stale breath, pushing the door to reception open and dragging his leaden feet through.
‘Wow.’ Kushal winced. ‘You look rough.’
‘I feel it.’
‘Went a bit heavy last night?’
‘Hmm.’ Jacob came and sat beside him, aware that the smell of alcohol may still be strong enough to detect. ‘Not really, I’m just not used to drinking any more.’
‘Well, you were very insistent on doing it.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry about the way I acted. I just …’ He didn’t want to recall the email from his dad, but he also knew he owed his friend an explanation.
‘You don’t have to say anything. It’s cool.’ Kushal smiled, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out two chocolate bars. ‘You want one?’
Relief swept over Jacob; his kind, pure, overly sugared friend wasn’t mad at him, and that was something.
‘Hell yes.’ He grabbed one. ‘Thank you.’
The pair sat in silence, munching down hard on their bars. It was only when Kushal had polished off his in record time that he turned to Jacob and spoke.
‘So, are you going to leave me hanging any longer, or are you going to get on with the rolling?’
Jacob swallowed, trying not to choke with laughter.
‘Sorry, we’re running a little behind schedule today.’ He reached into his pockets and retrieved the goods: dice, notebook and a handful of hope.
‘I can see that, but I need to know if I’m going to have to
clean your room today or not. I’m already very busy.’ A sly smirk pulled at the corners of Kushal’s mouth.
‘Sure you are, buddy.’ Jacob laid the notebook in front of him, clasping the dice and squeezing them tight in his fist.
He closed his eyes and, with a deep breath in, began to shake the dice in his hand.
Two shakes and a roll. Show me, Universe, where I should go …
As the two cubes spilled out across the wooden table, Jacob scrunched his eyes tighter. Was he ready to see an odd number staring back up at him? Could he stand the disappointment when he was already feeling so fragile?
‘NO WAY!’ Kushal yelped, causing Jacob’s eyes to snap open and his heart to fill with expectation. ‘It’s evens … evens is good, right?’
A three and a five.
Permission to go.
‘Yes, it’s good!’ Jacob roared, snatching up the dice and holding them close to his chest. ‘I mean, not good because I won’t get to sit here and give myself type two diabetes every day with you, but yes, it’s good.’
‘OK, now what? What happens now?’ The joy in the boy’s eyes was almost enough to bring Jacob to tears. He was really going to miss his friend.
‘Now I roll again and the number will correspond to a list of countries in the back of my book. Then I roll again to find out where in that country I’ll end up.’
‘What if you roll the same country, and roll the same number as before?’
‘Then I stay where I am.’
‘This feels quite complicated for something that’s meant to be random.’ Kushal scowled, scratching his baby-haired chin.
‘Oi, don’t question the process, please. We’ve got a job to do.’ Jacob released the dice once more and let them fall.
A six and a four.
‘India is not done with you yet, apparently!’ Kushal cheered. ‘Go again: let’s see where you end up!’
Though he normally undertook this activity by himself, Jacob found he was quite enjoying sharing the magic of his weird and wonderful world with someone.
‘All right, let me get the list ready.’ He flipped through his tattered notebook until he found the India page. ‘OK … come on, Universe, take me somewhere good, please!’
Another shake, another roll, another prayer to the gods of fate, and then he released them.
‘It’s six,’ Kushal announced. ‘Two threes is six!’ He practically grabbed the book from under Jacob’s nose. ‘What’s six?’
But Jacob had already seen it. His mind was piecing together the hundreds of thoughts that were racing through his sluggish brain. His heart was pounding and his breath was growing shallow. Olivia’s face, which had thrown him so off kilter when it appeared yesterday, now flooded him with elation.
‘It’s Udaipur. I’m going to Udaipur!’