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Fromadistance,myfriend Jacinta looked bored as a guy with a paunch hanging over his pants chatted her up.
“Hey there.” I kissed her on the cheek before giving the man an “off you go” flick of the hand.
Jacinta giggled. “How do you that?”
“I just tell them to piss off.”
She laughed. “They might take offence at that.”
“Nuh. They love it.” I chuckled.
Thumping with loud music, the trendy Soho bar was normally fun after a few drinks, but I wasn’t in the mood. “Hey, do you mind if we go somewhere not so loud?”
Jacinta gulped her white wine, rose from her stool, and smoothed down her bodycon dress. “Show the way.”
She linked her arm in mine, and we stepped onto the pavement. It was nine o’clock, and the street smelled of cologne, car fumes, and greasy fast food.
As we dodged groups of strutting revellers coming from every direction, she asked, “Where to?”
I wasn’t in the mood to dance or flirt or anything too social. I just needed a chat.
“How about there?” I pointed at a small, dimly lit bar called the Red Place. “I’ve been there before. It’s a little eccentric, and mainly gay from memory, which suits my mood. Do you mind?”
She shook her head.
We walked into the red-walled bar crammed with black-and-white images of Paris and famous people. A sign advertising Friday night poetry made me pause.
“What night is it?”
“Thursday.” Jacinta frowned. “You really are off with the fairies.”
I exhaled. “Yep. I’m having one of those weeks.”
We settled for a small table with a flickering candle in a leadlight jar. The waiter sashayed over, and against the sound of ethereal lounge music, we made our orders.
“What’s up, Savvie?” Jacinta’s blue eyes shone with sympathy. Her dependable and unwavering support made her the go-to girlfriend for that deep and meaningful talk.
“Oh, you know, another quarter-life crisis.”
“Let me guess, you’ve given Olivier the flick.” She ran her hands down her blonde hair so that it remained a smooth sheet. Jacinta went out of her way to maintain an impeccable appearance. She was like a walking cosmetic counter, always up on the latest products, promising to pump her lips, make her lashes longer, and remove wrinkles that hadn’t even started to show on her porcelain-smooth face.
She was that girl who sprang out of bed while her lover slept so he would wake to see her perfectly made-up.
Having grown up with me, Jacinta was that sister I never had. Her parents owned a chain of high-tech franchises and were super rich. We’d shared our first cigarette and even lost our virginity on the same night to a couple boys we met at Glastonbury festival, in a droopy tent of all places. We often laughed about the experience whenever we visited our wild teenage years.
It wasn’t just wild adolescent fun we’d shared. Like me, Jacinta changed her boys as often as our hairstyles, which was often, given our restless need to experiment with hair colours and new looks. Due to this colourful sex life, we had plenty to share when we met up for drinks, which was every few days. In between, we would chat on the phone.
Sienna was another close friend, but we’d lost her for now. She’d fallen for a guy she’d met in Morocco.
That was what we did. We would fall for someone, disappear for a few weeks or so, and return either laughing or crying.
And now my body and soul screamed for change. But I had this alarming inability to focus on anything long enough to finish it. I couldn’t even finish a book. At college, I would pay brainy students for essays on books we were meant to study. My friends couldn’t believe that I never made it past chapter three ofFifty Shades of Grey. That was the longest I’d stayed on any book, so it was a compliment to the author. My doctor had diagnosed me with ADHD.
“I’m still seeing Ollie.” My dull tone reflected the numbness in my body, mind, and spirit. I might have appeared shallow, but something deep inside me was knocking at the door trying to bust me apart.
“You’re bored with him, aren’t you?” She inclined her head. “I know you, babes, you’re normally bouncy and cheery when you’re with a new guy.”
“You’ve met him.” I thanked the waiter as he popped down our drinks along with a bowl of crisps. “I need friction.”
