Before Sol dropped me at home, Leigh and I agreed we’d be online on Sunday morning, except we hadn’t specified a time, and I was still torn between making my interest clear and not coming across as sadly over-eager. It meant that, in spite of hardly sleeping at all, I was up and showered by seven o’clock but using every form of distraction to avoid going on Facebook.
“What are you doing?”
Mum’s question came from behind me and startled me to the extent that water jumped out of the iron, and my hand disappeared in a cloud of scalding steam. I put the iron down before I burnt myself or my still very crinkled shirt.
My mum shook her head and walked past to switch the kettle on. “How long’ve you been up?”
“Not long,” I lied, seeing as it was already gone eight. I could feel her eyes on me. She’d been watching a movie when I’d come in last night, so I’d just said goodnight and gone to bed. Or not to bed—I’d talked to Noah for a while and read through the poetry I’d selected for my coursework anthology. I had too much Larkin in there, but in our seminars, we’d been exploring ‘irony and understatement’, which was surely just being ‘British’—something Philip Larkin did particularly well. I preferred Roger McGough’s dry sarcasm, largely because when I read his poems, I heard them in the voice of the narrator of Thomas and Friends, which was fun in an ‘I’m a sad English student’ way.
At the platform, he awaits
Percy in his green-grey regalia…re-grey-leer
Neither Henry nor Thomas nor any other
Loco, oh no—it must be Percy
The Fat Controller decreed.
Who actually thought it was a good idea to name a character in a kids’ programme ‘The Fat Controller’? Well, anyway, sad English student that I was, I still didn’t read post-war British poetry for fun, and I’d thought it would help me sleep, as in bore me to unconsciousness. Needless to say, it didn’t work, because every time I thought about Leigh—therefore, every couple of minutes or so—my belly did a roll and my pulse shot off at some dangerously high speed. I was too hot, threw the duvet off, too cold, pulled it back on, too thirsty, needed a drink, drank too much, needed the loo, and so on and so forthed my way through to giving-up-on-sleep time.
“Jesse! Look what you’re doing!”
Instinctively, I lifted the iron from the board. Oops. “Sorry.”
Mum sighed and unplugged it even though I wasn’t done, but it was for the best. “At least it wasn’t your shirt,” she muttered while I stared guiltily at the iron-shaped scorch on the ironing-board cover. I stuck the half-smooth, half-wrinkly shirt back in the basket and put the ironing board away. By the time I returned, Mum had made two cups of tea and was sitting at the table. I joined her.
“Thanks,” I said, picking up my cup and nursing it until my hands tingled from the heat. “That place we went to last night was a bit of a dive.”
“Where was it?”
“Somewhere in the town centre. Might’ve been the high street. The music was good, though. Nora—that’s Leigh’s mate—is seriously talented. I think she’s a bit older than Leigh.” I pictured the two of them chattering away and laughing. It was so vivid I could almost count the stripes on Leigh’s waistcoat. “Leigh’s dyed their hair purple,” I said.
“How could you tell?” Mum asked dryly. I was quite conservative as students went, and I wondered how she’d react if I dyed my hair a crazy colour—not that I was planning to—or maybe got that eyebrow piercing?
“Did I tell you about Leigh’s lip piercing? I think we counted eight piercings in total, and they said they were getting the other side of their lip done. It’s called a snakebite.”
My mum shuddered.
“You’ve got your ears pierced,” I pointed out.
“True, but ears are fleshy, aren’t they?” Mum reached up and twiddled one of her earrings.
I’d bought them for her thirtieth birthday, fifteen years ago. God, I was getting old. Well, I wasn’t that old, and my grandma took me to buy them and subsidised my purchase. My mum had worn them ever since—little turquoise hearts that hung on silver hoops just below her earlobes.
“And what about when you eat?” she asked. I frowned. I’d lost the thread. “Doesn’t it get into the hole?”
“Oh! You mean…” I poked the inside of my lip in the place corresponding to Leigh’s piercing. Mum pulled a face, and I laughed.
“Don’t be getting ideas,” she warned.
I just laughed more, hoping to hide my thoughts about both piercings and how much I wanted to get close enough that I could tug Leigh’s lip stud myself. The thought did things to me that nobody needs to happen in the company of their mother. Luckily, the table was there to protect my modesty.
“What are your plans for today, then?” Mum asked. “Seeing Leigh, I suppose?”
“I hope so. We didn’t arrange anything, but I might suggest we go for a walk or something. What’s the weather forecast?” I had my phone in my pocket, so I could’ve checked for myself, but my mum would know without looking.
“More of the same. They say it’ll break tomorrow.”
“Good,” I said, and not for the delight of basking in another ‘Indian summer’ day. I hated it being so hot and sticky, especially at night. Especially when my head was already full of stuff that kept me awake.
Mum got up, taking her cup with her. “I’m going for a shower.”
“OK.” That was fair warning not to use the taps until she was done. I watched her leave and then took out my phone, planning in my head what I was going to say to Leigh. Hey, what are you up to today? No, that sounded like ‘if you’ve got nothing better to do’. Hey, I’d love to meet up today, maybe go for a walk?’ Hmm…better…maybe go for a romantic walk. But Leigh had beaten me to it.
Hi Jesse! Thanks for coming with me last night. I really enjoyed it, and being with you! Wanna come over? Or have you got loads to do today? It’s OK if you can’t. x
With shaking hands—and, for the first time ever, gratitude for autocorrect—I typed back: Hey Leigh. Thanks for inviting me. It was awesome. I’d love to come over – was thinking we could go for a walk together? Maybe? What time is good for you? I stopped short of saying ‘I could leave now’ and finished with ‘x’.
I waited for the three dots to indicate a reply was coming, but they didn’t appear. I refreshed, locked and unlocked my phone, refreshed again. Still nothing. I reread what I’d sent to make sure it made sense and wasn’t too pushy, which I didn’t think it was.
My mum finished in the shower and went into her room to get dressed. I refilled the kettle, contemplating just catching the bus. It took almost an hour, and if Leigh had changed their mind, I could visit Noah and Matty instead, although knowing them, they were having a lie-in. Agh, this was difficult. I was normally quite a patient person, but I really wanted to see Leigh!
The kettle boiled, and I called through to my mum, “Tea or coffee?” at the same time as she turned on the hairdryer. I took a chance on coffee, checked my messages one more time, to no avail, and went to get my laptop. I figured I might as well put the time to good use, if I could concentrate, that is.
My laptop was ancient, and I really needed a new one, but this close to the end of my degree, I didn’t much fancy wasting time on setting it up and getting used to a new operating system. I wasn’t yet behind with coursework, but equally, two evenings out socialising, and hopefully today, too, meant I wasn’t ahead of myself, either.
My mum was back in the kitchen and halfway through making us omelettes before my laptop finally got its act together, which was also when my phone buzzed.
Sorry – went for a run. Just popping in the shower, so anytime you like! I’ll be here. :) x
I looked over at the omelette my mum was lifting onto the plate and checked the time; there was a bus in twenty minutes, another in just under an hour. I could eat now and get the later bus, but…
“Sorry, Mum. I haven’t got time for breakfast.” I closed my laptop and got up.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” She gestured to the omelette.
“You eat it. I can always make the other one later.”
She sighed loudly, her disgruntlement clear. “OK. Will you be back for dinner?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to be?” I really hoped not, but if she did, I’d be there. We always had Sunday dinner at my grandma’s, and she and Mum mostly got on OK, but they were only ever one step away from having a bust-up over my grandma’s refusal to move house. I was like some kind of unwitting peacekeeper, because they wouldn’t argue in front of me.
“No, you go and enjoy yourself,” my mum said reluctantly, but then followed up with a nod and a smile.
I took my laptop to my room and came back to the kitchen for the insect repellent wipes, which were the only thing that seemed to work on me, although I was in two minds whether to use them today. Whilst they didn’t smell of anything, whenever I’d licked my lips after wiping one over my face, I got a salty-bitter taste, and…well, I lived in hope.
“I’ll phone later and let you know what time I’m coming home.” I gave Mum a hug and looked longingly at the omelette. It smelled soooo good, but I couldn’t eat it on the move, and I really needed to catch that bus. With a sad sigh, I checked I had money and my phone, grabbed my keys, and headed out for the bus stop.
* * * * *