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Nineteen
Jamie
“Hey, Tommy. Gimme another Red Headed Slut.” I shriek out a laugh. “Best damn drink in the house for the best slut in the city. Whadya say, Tommy.” He leans across the bar. “Woah, there mister. Don’t you bat for the other side?” I think he laughs, but I’m not sure. The music is so loud, and everything looks a little blurry.
“Jamie, I’m cutting you off,” Tommy shouts to me.
“Awww, shit. I didn’t mean anything by it. Come on, I’ll let you kiss me, if you really want to.”
Now he does laugh. “That’s not what I meant, girl. I can’t serve you anymore is all. You need to go home and sleep it off.”
“Screw sleep. Who needs sleep? That’s what you do when you’re dead, right? I want to party.” I spin around, raising my arms in the air. Waving them like I just don’t care. I let out another shriek of laughter as I realise that’s part of a song I’ve danced to a time or two. I close my eyes as I spin, getting lost in the music and memories of a time when life was simple.
I suddenly stop spinning, and as I open my eyes, I’m met by beautiful hazel-coloured ones. They’re not the ones that fill my dreams. No, those are caramel with flecks of gold when he’s turned on or angry. I know these ones though. These belong to my friend and occasional bed buddy, Alex.
“Alexxxx. You’re looking mighty fine tonight. Come and dance with me.” I try to grab his hand and lead him to the dance floor, but he holds me back.
“Not tonight, Jamie. I think it’s time we get you home, hey?” He puts his arm around my waist and turns me away from the bar.
“Hey, hold on I didn’t get my Red Headed Slut. They’re good you know. Red Headed Sluts are the best. That’s what she said.” I laugh so hard I almost fall over, but Alex holds me up.
As we get outside and the fresh night air hits me, the world starts to spin. I hear Alex talking to someone, but I’m too busy trying not to throw up and stay on my feet to take any notice of who.
Then we’re moving again before I’m lifted into the back of a car. I must have dozed off because when I wake again, I’m being carried inside. My head hits something soft, and I feel tugging on my feet, but my eyes refuse to open.
“Jamie. There’s a bottle of water here and a bowl on the floor next to the bed in case you need to be sick. I’ll lock the door and drop the keys through the letterbox, okay?”
“Alex.”
“Yeah. What is it?”
“Don’t go. Stay with me, please. I don’t want to be alone.”
I hear him sigh, and then the bed dips and the sound of shoes hitting the floor before strong arms wrap round me from behind. I nestle into his hold, relaxing as I drop off to sleep.
I wake alonewith the partial memory of Alex holding me as I slept. When I drag myself from my bed to the kitchen, I find a note, along with a still warm cup of tea.
Jamie,
Drink the tea, and for the love of god, please eat something before you waste away. Call me if you need anything.
Alex xx
I drink the tea,forget the food as my stomach feels like it might reject anything solid right now and go shower. That’s about all I can manage for now.
I dress in a worn pair of joggers and a hoodie, then plonk myself in front of the TV for several mind-numbing hours.
I’m in the kitchen making another cup of tea, when I realise that I never thanked Alex for last night. I look around the kitchen wondering what I did with my phone last night. I’m pretty sure I had my bag when Alex brought me home, so I trudge upstairs, assuming he must have put it in my room.
As I stand in the doorway to my room, I notice what a mess it is. Clothes strewn all over the floor, and the sick bowl is still where Alex left it last night. I thank the stars I didn’t use it as it lies on its side, clearly knocked over as I tumbled from bed this morning.
Not seeing my bag anywhere, I begin gathering up the dirty clothes into a pile by the door ready to throw in the washing machine. Once the room is clear of clothes, I stand in the middle and scratch my head like Stan Laurel when there’s still no sign of my bag. Maybe Alex put it down near the front door. You know, having to carry a blind drunk friend to bed requires two hands. I’m the worst friend. And I vow to myself to be a better friend, starting with a message to Alex apologising, followed rapidly by a thank you for taking care of me.
I make quick work of making my bed before bending down to pick up the bowl, when a vibrating sound comes from the bedside table. Looking up, I find my phone, but no bag. The screen is lit up as Rick’s name flashes across it. As the call rings off, I see the dozen other messages and calls I’ve missed. Okay, ignored. I shove the phone in my pocket, pick everything up and head back downstairs.
One load of washing on, I pull out my phone and send a message to Alex. Feeling somewhat better, I begin making something to eat.
My toast pops up, and I jump, dropping the plate I was carrying. It crashes to the ground, breaking clean in half. Bending down, I begin picking up the pieces and manage to slice my finger as I’m putting it in the bin.
