by Hayley Long
We sat side by side on his bed quietly thinking about this. From downstairs, the smell of roast dinner was wafting through the house and mingling with the fencey smell of Gareth’s room. Gareth got up from the bed and closed the door. ‘Keep the smell out,’ he said.
He sat back down next to me on the bed.
‘When will lunch be ready?’ I said.
‘’bout another half an hour,’ said Gareth.
He reached over and put his hand on top of mine. Almost immediately, my heart started thumping so hard that it felt like it was actually going to thump its way right out of my body. It was thumping so loudly that I could hear it. I sat there, on the fiery Welsh dragon, underneath Britney Spears, with my heart going thump thump thump thump thump and I couldn’t hear another sound in the entire room. The silence was so intense it was making my ears ache.
Gareth said, ‘Shall I stick a CD on?’
‘Good idea,’ I said gratefully.
He got up and put a U2 CD on his stereo and turned the volume right up loud. The first song to come blaring out of the speakers was very noisy and the kind of thing which the boys in my school like to jump up and down to at school discos as if they are trying to qualify for the Stunt Pogo Olympics. It was still better than listening to that terrible ear-splitting silence though. ‘What is this?’ I said. To be honest, I wasn’t really that interested. I was just making small talk.
‘Vertigo,’ said Gareth. ‘It’s my favourite ever U2 single.’
‘Vertigo?’ I said. ‘I don’t even know what that means.’
Gareth scratched his head. ‘It’s like being dizzy. This record is so amazing it makes me go a bit dizzy sometimes.’ He came back and sat on the bed. And then, without any warning, he kissed me. It lasted forty-three seconds. Actually, it probably lasted a bit longer than that because I was caught off guard and I didn’t start counting from the point of initial lip contact.
On the forty-fourth second I pulled away for an oxygen intake. Once I’d got my breath back, I rested my hand on the back of his neck and whispered, ‘Gareth, did you think any more about what I said yesterday?’
‘You mean about it? Gareth whispered back, looking visibly shocked. ‘I’m not doing it NOW with my parents downstairs. And anyway it’ll be dinner in a little while and I need at least an hour when I’m doing it.’
‘How do you know?’ I whispered back to him. ‘You said you’ve never done it before.’
Gareth pulled away from me, looking faintly annoyed. Yeah, well, I know enough about myself to know that I’m the sort of person not to rush an important job like that,’ he said. ‘I like to do things properly.’
The music was still shaking the speakers of Gareth’s stereo. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Kiss me slowly and properly then. That other kiss only lasted forty-three poxy seconds.’
Gareth looked at me in amazement and then he said, ‘You’re mad you are, Lottie Biggs.’ The second he’d said that, he put his hand to his mouth and said, ‘Ooh, sorry! No offence, like.’
But I wasn’t offended because, actually, I was feeling a little bit mad. But in a good way. From the speakers, Bono from U2 was shouting about how he was in a place called Vertigo and I understood what he meant because I felt like I was right there with him. All of a sudden, I was feeling really high up and dizzy and as eerily cheerily chipper as a chirpy bouncing chinchilla. I felt like I could have bounced right up to the ceiling if I’d wanted to. I laughed and tickled Gareth. Gareth tickled me back. I giggled and notched my tickling up a gear. Gareth responded by tickling me even harder. The next thing I knew, we were wriggling around on his Welsh dragon duvet and giggling and covering each other’s faces in little kisses and, all the while, Britney Spears was looking down on us from above. But I didn’t even care about her. She’s got no chance with Gareth. She lives in America.
Then, halfway through the song, the music stopped.
Gareth and I instantly froze. Gareth was kneeling on top of me with one hand about to tickle my tummy, now nakedly visible because my sweatshirt had ridden upward, and the other hand resting on my sweatshirt-covered boob. In return, I had both my hands jammed into the back pockets of his jeans and was clutching hold of his denim-covered cheeks. It was what the newspapers would call a compromising position.
I heard a cough and then Gareth’s dad said, ‘I did knock, Gareth. Repeatedly. But obviously, you didn’t hear. When you’ve finished there, son, would you bring Lottie down to lunch.’ And then he left the room.
For a couple of minutes we sat on Gareth’s bed in absolute silence. Finally, Gareth said, ‘I told you he sometimes says a bit more than yes and no.’ And then, because I didn’t have the courage to run away, I pulled my sweatshirt down, got off the bed and followed him down the stairs.
Which brings me to my final question.
Will I ever again be able to eat Yorkshire puddings without feeling totally mortified?
BeING fraNk with BLake
‘It’s been a funny old couple of weeks,’ I said to Blake. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure how successful I’ve been at surfing that cosmic wave.’
‘Why’s that then?’ he asked.
I thought about his question and frowned. Opposite me, Blake sat patiently in his swivel chair and waited. Inside my head, I tried to untangle all the emotional things which had happened since my last visit but it was quite difficult because there was an awful lot to untangle. Everything seemed to have got twisted together like spaghetti. After a minute or two of silence, I took a deep breath and said, ‘Well, since I saw you last, I’ve totally fallen out with my best friend Goose, almost been sacked from my Saturday job, told fifty billion fibs to my mum, been driven to distraction by a pair of Britney Spears boxer shorts, developed an allergy to Yorkshire puddings, got myself practically thrown out of the cinema for being a prodder, nearly shoved a merit mark up my English teacher’s backside and shouted my head off about being a great big virgin in the middle of the high street.’
Blake raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Get off the grass!’
‘No, I’m deadly serious,’ I said.
Blake frowned a little and nodded. ‘Anything else?’
I thought about it. Then I said, ‘Do you want more?’
Blake shrugged. ‘Do you want to tell me more?’
I put my head on one side and thought about this and then I said, ‘Can I be frank with you, Blake?’
Blake held out his palms. ‘Be as frank as you like.’
‘Well,’ I said, ’the thing is – see – I’ve got this boyfriend called Gareth and we’re in a proper relationship and he’s really nice – I mean really REALLY nice – and in the past, I’ve thought other boys were nice but – actually – none of them are as nice as Gareth is because he’s EXTREMELY nice – and he’s so nice that – initially – I thought it would be nicer if we both waited until we were about twenty-one before we did the Grand Slam – don’t ask me why, I suppose I just thought that it would make the experience EVEN nicer – but then the other day, I caught a glimpse of Gaz in his Britney Spears boxer shorts and he looked SOOO nice – I mean SOOO COMPLETELY SEXADELICALLY SCRUMPTIOUSLY NICE that – to be honest – I can’t stop thinking about him and now – the truth is – I can’t be blinking bothered to hang around until I’m twenty-blinking-one before I do the Wham Bam Grand Slam with him because I WANT TO DO IT WITH HIM RIGHT NOW – well, I don’t mean RIGHT NOW – obviously – because Gareth isn’t here and this room would be a TOTALLY inappropriate and blatantly weird venue for that kind of activity but I DEFINITELY WANT TO DO IT SOMETIME SOON – but the problem is that Gareth is SO NICE that he wants everything to be completely perfect and while I agree that it would be a lot nicer if we had plenty of space and privacy and time to relax and no parents about to barge in – actually, now I think about it, that is essential – I DEFINITELY don’t want any parents barging in – but – what was I saying? – oh yeah – I’m beginning to wonder when it’s EVER GOING TO HAPPEN and – I’ll be honest – the entir
e situation is keeping me awake at night – well, so is Winnie but he’s an elderly chinchilla so that’s completely different – and – actually – I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep for ages now because all I can think about is the fact that I’M DESPERATE TO DO IT WITH GARETH STINGECOMBE and it’s all starting to cave my head in and – I can tell you now – that’s not nice.’
When I’d finished, I took a few deep breaths and gripped the armrests of my chair to steady myself. At some point during all of this, I’d started rocking backwards and forward a little bit.
Blake sat up a little straighter in his seat and stroked his chin. I’m not sure if I was imagining things but his face seemed to have gone a little pinker than usual. After a while, he said, ‘Crikey dick! That WAS frank!’
‘You said I could be,’ I said.
Blake nodded in agreement. ‘That’s fine, Lottie. Frank is good.’ Then after a pause, he added, ‘Aside from all of this, how would you describe your general day-to-day mood?’
I shrugged. And then I said, ‘Recently? Pretty good actually. I feel quite chirpy and buzzy. I kind of feel like I’m in a place called Vertigo.’
Blake frowned slightly and then he said, ‘Hmm.’
We sat for a moment without saying anything. Blake, who is generally quite a relaxed and smiley person, was looking extremely thoughtful. Not unlike this:
After a little while, he said, ‘Is Vertigo a good place to be?’
This is one of the things I really like about Blake. Even though he’s a mental health counsellor and sometimes uses weird words all the way from New Zealand, essentially we speak the same lingo.
I scratched my head and probably looked as thoughtful as he did. Then I said, ‘I think so. Most of the time. When I’m not packing a wobbly. It can be quite exciting and I definitely don’t feel bored and I GET LOADS OF STUFF DONE. I mean, I’ve already written about forty thousand words for my Emotion Notepad. Are you sure you don’t want to read it?’
Blake said, ‘Get off the grass! FORTY THOUSAND WORDS!’
‘Yep,’ I said with a nod. ‘There’s just been so much stuff happening.’
And then Blake said, ‘Do you feel normal though?’
And I looked at him and opened my mouth to answer the question but not a sound came out because I couldn’t think of a single word to say. Instead, my whole head was being held hostage by one solitary mind-bending question. It was this question:
What is normal?
And I sat in my seat and started thinking about all of the people I know. I thought about Lee Fogel who is always horrible to me and I thought, ‘Is he normal?’ And then I thought about Dilys who eats three bags of mint humbugs every day and I thought, ‘Is she normal?’ And then I thought about Ruthie who has a freaky interest in old bones and broken bits of pottery and I asked myself, ‘Is Ruthie normal?’ And to be honest, I just felt even more confused.
Eventually I said, ‘But what the blinking heck is normal?’
Blake smiled. ‘That, Lottie, is a humdinger of a question. And one I can’t really answer because we all wear different gumboots, don’t we? And it’s a cracking good job that we do because life would be pretty dull otherwise. I suppose what I’m really asking is if this is how you normally feel?
‘Oh,’ I said. And then I added, ‘No, not really. Usually, I can’t be bothered to get loads of stuff done. To be honest, I’ve got a naturally lazy streak.’
‘Have you been in this Vertigo place before?’ asked Blake.
I shifted about a bit on my seat. All of a sudden, no matter how much I wriggled and squirmed around, I couldn’t quite rid myself of the sensation that I was sitting on the most uncomfortable chair in the entire cosmos. But just as I was starting to feel that the only way ahead would be to pick up the stupid comfortless chair and throw it through the flaming window, I was struck head-on by a colossal realization.
I HAD
BEEN HERE
BEFORE.
Just before I’d had my mental disturbance in the summer.
Just before it all went dark and depressing.
Blake smiled. ‘Wearing different gumboots to the rest of the crowd isn’t always a bad thing, you know. Not everyone can thump out forty thousand words like you can. Buzzy episodes can be extremely productive. I’ve heard lots of people say that they wouldn’t ever want to be without them – even if it means taking the rough with the smooth. But it’s important to spot when you’re having a buzzy phase because you know what might be following hot on its heels, don’t you?’
I nodded. ‘A big fat non-buzzy downer.’
‘Spot on, sport,’ said Blake with a wink. ‘And once you know when it could be coming, you’re in a better position to cope with it.’
I bit my thumbnail and frowned. Blake’s words had got me thinking. To be honest, I’m still thinking about them and it’s twenty to one in the morning and I really should be asleep. I’m not sure how any of this helps me solve my personal problems with Goose and Gareth but I do know that the thought of going through another big fat miserable depression like the one I had in the summer scares me half to death.
After a while I said very quietly, ‘Am I gonna be OK?’
Blake smiled at me again and it was one of those smiles which makes you feel better just for seeing it. I don’t think I could have felt any better if Johnny Depp himself had smiled at me. Blake said, ‘Try to be patient. Your nervous system has been really crook, Lottie, and it’s got to recover. You know, it might even be that some of these jiggy feelings you’ve got for Gareth are just another symptom of everything still being a bit haywire. Or maybe not.’ Then he looked a bit pink again. ‘But, either way, it always takes a little time to control the ups and downs. Just keep working on the techniques we’ve talked about and you’ll soon learn how to keep your balance.’
‘Should I keep writing in my Emotion Notepad?’ I asked.
‘Does it help?’ said Blake.
I nodded vigorously. ‘Definitely,’ I said. ‘It kind of feels like I’ve got a twenty-four-hour hotline to someone who’s got bigger ears and more patience and a calmer personality than even Yoda from Star Wars, and he’s a Jedi Master,’ and then I added, ‘if you know what I mean.’
Yoda looks like this:
Which is actually not a million miles away from what Winnie my chinchilla looks like. And Winnie’s not a bad listener either.
Blake must have seen the Star Wars films too because he said, ‘Crikey Dick! Keep writing then. But don’t forget to give yourself a break from that screen sometimes. And try not to write at freaky hours in the morning. A well rested mind is a healthy mind.’
And then his alarm clock went off.
‘That’s my lot then,’ I said and stood up and walked over to the door. Before I left though, I paused and said, ‘You’re a great listener as well, Blake.’
Blake grinned again. ‘Hey, bugalugs, I’m just doing my job.’
I grinned back. ‘Yeah, well, thanks, bugalugs.’ And then I left.
And now I’m switching my computer off and going to sleep because if I’ve learned one important thing today, it’s this:
Even though we all wear different gumboots, sitting in front of your computer in the freaky hours of the morning just isn’t healthy or normal.
hOw Gareth stINGeCOmBe OffereD Me his sausaGe
This morning I arrived to work at The Jean Genie hair salon at a sensible time. Just for once, I wasn’t stupidly early. There’s no danger of this situation ever repeating itself though. Because I’ve decided that I’m going to resign. I haven’t told my mum yet and now she’s gone out for the evening so I can’t tell her anyway, and I haven’t told Gareth yet because he doesn’t actually deserve to know this piece of exclusive news. The sad truth is that he’d rather put a wiggly maggot on a hook than spend time alone in my house with me. And I can’t tell Goose because Goose doesn’t like me. So that just leaves me with the Emotion Notepad and Winnie.
So here goes . . .
&nb
sp; As usual, I woke up ages before my alarm and I could tell from the lack of light shining through the curtains that it was still dark outside. Even though I’d only been awake for a few seconds, my brain was already buzzing and whirring like a demented fridge. I didn’t want to stay in bed so I got up and transferred myself to my wardrobe. While I was in there, I closed my eyes and forced myself to count imaginary orang-utans as they swung from one treetop to the next. The first few hundred orang-utans were a bit uptight and edgy but by the time I’d reached my target of three thousand ginger swingers, they were feeling a lot more relaxed and so was I. After that, I played with Winnie for a bit and then I had a long hot shower. Downstairs, I made myself a big special breakfast of sardines on toast followed by two oranges and a banana. In the summer, I had several appointments with Dr Edwards and she told me that fruit, vegetables and oily fish are very good for everyone – but especially for people like me who have vulnerable heads. To be honest, I’m not very keen on vegetables – unless you count chips – but I don’t mind the odd bit of fruit or the occasional oily fish.24
When I got to work, Dilys was opening her first bag of mint humbugs and Neil Adam was taking off his avant-garde plastic leopard-print raincoat. Jean looked up from the appointments book and said, ‘Hiya, Lottie! Not such an early bird this morning. But you’re still nice and punctual and there’s nothing quite as useful in this life as the trick of good timing, is there, my lovely?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s a much better way to operate.’ I wasn’t making small talk either. I totally meant it.
Dilys said, ‘Oooh Lottie, did you enjoy your lunch around at Jean’s last Sunday?
My cheeks INSTANTLY started burning. I looked from Dilys to Jean and then back again to Dilys but I couldn’t see anything sly or disapproving in either of their faces. They were both just smiling at me quite innocently. With a secret sigh of relief, I realized that Gareth’s dad probably hadn’t told Jean about the boob and cheeks tickling incident. I said, ‘Yeah, it was nice thanks, Dilys.’
