by Bloom, Anna
“It’s been a really shit day. Actually it’s been a really shit week.”
“I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice, his hands are on my face, forcing me to look at him.
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry if you think I have been ignoring you. I just wanted to give you some space so you could work stuff out.”
“Oh.”
I am a dick sometimes.
“Did you really think I would ignore you after that?” he whispers.
I look at him. Yeah, I kind of did. “I just thought maybe it was rubbish and you decided not to bother again,” I whisper back. I can’t believe I have just admitted to this, but I have no energy left to bullshit, even myself.
“You could not be further from the truth,” he assures me in a voice that’s noticeably lower, keeping eye contact with me the whole time.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Don’t worry, Ben. It’s not your fault she is crying.” Meredith shrugs out of her jacket and grabs a beer before plonking herself down next to Tristan who is watching my little drama with interest.
“Her crazy mum made her try on wedding dresses for an hour. I nearly cried.”
“What?” Ben sounds astounded, as he should, quite rightly. I have failed to mention the teeny tiny matter of my engagement. Funnily enough, it has never come up in conversation.
Yes, I know I have double standards.
“You’re getting married? Like, really getting married?” He looks at me a little frantically.
“No, of course I’m not. Mum and Dad just think I am.”
He does not look appeased.
“I’m not. I promise,” I try and assure him. Making eye contact, I tiptoe to kiss him.
At first he resists a little, then his arms snake around me and pull me in tight. “Fuck, Lilah! I just nearly had a heart attack.”
“Yep. Imagine how I felt today.”
I laugh a little. Let’s be honest. It is kind of funny.
I grab a beer and sit down, pulling Ben along with me. We then all sit and drank beer until eventually I have forgotten the pain of being squeezed into terrible dresses.
When it is time to go to bed, I ask Ben if I can go with him. He just grins and grabs me, throwing me over his shoulder in his trademark fireman lift, and marches us into his bedroom as I scream in hysterical giggles.
Bliss. Bloody Bliss.
November
5th November
Fireworks Night
Poor Guy Fawkes! There he was, part of a gang planning to bring down parliament using over-sized fireworks. A plan that failed spectacularly, yet he is the only one who gets plonked on top of a bonfire year in, year out. That’s history, though it only really ever remembers the names that it wants to. Everyone else gets lost in dusty boring textbooks, much like the ones that I am being forced to read these days.
I feel a bit like Guy Fawkes. Well, I have been creating some fabulous fireworks of my own with Ben of late. Mum freaked me out last week at Harvey Nics. She was seriously not listening to a single word I said when I protested that I did not want to get married. It is being treated like a done deal. I thought girls were allowed to change their minds.
Perhaps the problem is that I have not actually told the person I am supposed to be marrying that I have changed my mind. I know there is not a chance in hell I will ever be able to pretend to be in a relationship with John again. Not even for ten short minutes. Not ever.
Ben and I are living this bizarre co-existing lifestyle. Sometimes I stay in his room; sometimes he stays in mine. Every morning he makes me coffee. He assures me he is happy with this role due to the fact my coffee and tea tastes like cat piss.
We never talk about anything serious, and never, ever mention John or the fact that my Mum has rung again asking if I had thought any more about those damn dresses. We just giggle a lot, all the time. It is kind of silly and adorable all at the same time.
“What would you like for breakfast?”
Hot boy from next door is asking what I want for breakfast whilst naked in front of me.
Giggle, giggle, and giggle. “Shall we go to the library after lectures?”
“No. Let’s just come home and have sex.”
Giggle, giggle, and giggle.
Every time he calls, these teeny tiny guinea pig cages our "home" it makes my stomach flip out with crazy-good, happy feelings.
I have never had this before with anyone. I never thought of any place as a 'shared home,' and have it be something not to be feared. It’s kind of crazy. We hardly know each other, but it is the most natural thing in the world. I can’t help wonder if it is too easy.
We are leaving in a few minutes for the fireworks display. It is raining hard, so I reckon old Guy Fawkes might get a lucky escape this year.
6th November
Okay, I need to get a grip. I have got one month to complete four essays, otherwise the Christmas holiday will be a complete write-off.
Uh, Christmas holiday. I cannot think of anything worse. The way things are going, I will still be doing my chicken act and effectively dating two people at once. I will have to go home to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas, where I will have to pretend that my little perfect existence they have cooked up for me is still going ahead. John will be there and I will have to sit next to him all day "ooh'ing" and "aah'ing" over the ridiculous gifts that he will undoubtedly lavish on me. It makes me sound like an ungrateful cow, but it is the truth. I will probably have to share my mum and dad’s guest room with him.
I don’t think I can.
Last night when we got home from the bonfire display, Ben knocked on my door. He didn’t come into my room, just stood on the threshold, hair all damp and dishevelled and said, “Lil, do you think that maybe you should just do it? Tell John it is over? I’m not sure that I want to share you anymore.”
“You’re not sharing me,” I said, but the words hung there between us.
“Yeah, but you are not just my girlfriend either.”
I had no answer to this.
Taylor Swift is singing ‘Mine’ and I want Ben to be mine. Only mine. Forever.
Okay. It is time to sort things out. I need to be brave and say the things that need to be said.
Friday is going to be the day.
8th November
I have told everyone, well, Meredith, Ben, Jayne, and Tristan (that’s pretty much everyone) that tomorrow is the day.
Tristan is going to be on Camp McCannon watch to help with the fallout that is sure to happen. Let’s not forget that my dad threatened to cut me off if I ended things with John. Theoretically, I could be eating turkey by myself this year.
Ben has been as excitable as a puppy all day. We went for a walk over the campus, which was beautiful with late autumn leaves still clinging to the trees, the air cool and crisp against our skin. The other week when I was lost in Froebel (again), I came across the place where Ben and I first, well, first drunkenly snogged. Turns out that it is actually beautiful there. I had just been too shit-faced to notice at the time.
Froebel College is a stunning mansion house with the most amazing landscaped lawns, with worn grey stone steps leading down to them, and an old-fashioned pond in the distance.
Ben and I sat there quietly taking in the scene around us when I told him. I told him that if he was keen, in a couple of days I would be available on a more permanent basis. It was quite romantic really, when he had turned toward me, his lips curved into a smile, his eyes flashing the blue of the sky overhead, and told me that he was most definitely keen.
I am not going to be scared. I am going to do it so that I can be with the person who has transformed me like I never thought possible.
I am going to do it.
9th November
Isn’t this just hunky dory? I have just done the most dramatic thing ever, and there is no one here to tell.
I did it. I did it. I did it.
I’ve come charging in all excited and ready to gloat on my single status, which hopefully will transfer to a non-single status again by tomorrow morning, and there is no one here.
Oh, it’s only nine-thirty.
Blimey! That did not take long at all. Ben and Sound Box are playing a gig tonight. They will not be home for hours. How bloody annoying! I could go, I suppose, but it might be a bit weird to go straight out on the town after splitting up with someone. I’m sure there is some sort of respectable lapse of time you are supposed to allow to pass before you go out shouting from the rooftops that you are single again. Two hours is probably not it.
The Break-Up
It’s hard to say goodbye to someone when they have been in your life for five years, but I did it all the same.
John had been so delighted that I was finally finding time to see him he had booked a table for the two of us at my favourite Chinese restaurant. It’s a shame really, they do the best Ho-Fun in London, but I doubt I will ever be able to go back there now.
There was a bit of a scene.
In between the hors d’oeuvres and the crispy duck and pancakes, I slipped my hand out from under John’s, where it was sweating profusely, and told him how thankful I was that he had given me space over the last couple of months, but how I had come to realise that I only really saw him in a brotherly way and because of this we should not continue with our relationship.
“What do you mean like a brother?”
“Um, well, I just see you in a brotherly way.”
“What, so you don’t fancy me?”
“Um, no, not really. Sorry.”
“I’m sure we could just do with some quality time together. Maybe I should book us a holiday?”
“John, I don’t think time is going to help. At all.”
“What about the wedding?”
“John, I don’t want to get married to you. I’m sorry that I said I did, and led you on for so long. It was wrong of me to do so.” (This is probably the bravest thing I have ever said.)
“Oh.”
And then he cried. And cried and cried. Very loudly.
An hour later, I have exhausted every argument that I can come up with. He was determined not to make it easy, and I don’t really blame him. We have spent five years together, and I am ending it over a plate of Chinese food.
I feel like a complete bitch. A bitch no longer in a relationship she does not want.
A liberated bitch.
10th November
6.45 a.m.
Shit! I must have fallen asleep.
My face has been resting on my spiral pad and now I have a curly indentation all along my right cheek.
That’s weird. The others must be home by now. It is getting light outside.
I should just go back to sleep, this time on a proper pillow, then when I wake up again it will be time to go and tell Ben the good news.
Yeah, right. Who am I kidding?
I am going to find my sexy jim-jams and I am going to go and wake up him up right now.
Someone Poke My Eyes Out
6.50 a.m.
Please poke my eyes out, because it feels like that image is going to be burnt on my irises forever, no matter how hard I try to blink it away.
I snuck out of my room and along the hallway to the next door. Opening it slowly, I crept inside. It was pretty dark in there with the curtains closed.
The door banged shut behind me, which I did not intend to happen. The noise woke Ben, who lifted his head to look at me with an expression of shock across his face.
Probably not as shocked as the look on my own face, because there next to him on the bed was Barbie Girl, and she appeared to only be wearing her bra and knickers.
PLASTIC BARBIE WAS IN BEN'S BED, DRESSED ONLY IN KNICKERS.
If I look at that line enough, I may believe it to be true.
FUCK.
I turned and hightailed it out of there. Now I am sitting here not entirely sure what to do next.
I did not see that one coming at all.
Ben is banging on my door, but there is not a chance I am opening it to him. Not now, not ever. Instead, I am just going to sit here in complete and utter shock whilst I try and work out what the hell just happened.
What the hell did just happen?
I am sure Ben knew my intentions to break up with John last night. Unless I am completely mistaken, he stood right about where he is currently banging away and asked me to sort everything out. We then had the whole ‘keen’ conversation that had been touchingly sweet and romantic.
Or so I thought.
Maybe I left it too long. Maybe this is some sort of punishment for behaving the way I have the last few months. Did I think I could have my cake and eat it, too? We all know that is not possible. Look at what's-her-name with the wig.
6.55 a.m.
He has been banging on the door and shouting through it for a good five minutes. He sounds pretty desperate. The other students are going to be pissed.
“Delilah, please let me in to explain."
“Go away, Ben,” I shout back.
“No! Not until you open the door and let me explain.”
“Fuck off!”
“No.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. There is no air left for me to catch hold of.
7.10 a.m.
Students in another dorm have called the phone in the hallway and complained about the noise. Ben told them to fuck off.
I have unlocked the door. I don’t want security coming over to sort us out. I am surprised my legs still work. They feel like jelly.
7.20 a.m.
This has got to be the worst day ever.
Ben marches over and stands in front of me, with his hair dishevelled and slept on (but not slept on with me), his blue eyes flashing all over the place. He runs an agitated hand through his wild hair, making it stand up even more.
“Lilah, please let me just tell you what happened. It isn’t what you think at all.”
“Really? There is a naked girl in your room.”
“Yes, there is, but nothing happened.”
“Why is she naked then?”
“Because she was trying it on, then she passed out. It’s the truth. I promise!”
“Oh, well that makes me feel much better, that she was just trying it on. Exactly how far did she get? Far enough for her to get her clothes off without you stopping her? Why the fuck was she in your room anyway? Or why didn’t you just leave her there and come to find me?”
My screaming voice breaks a little on "me."
He opens his mouth to tell me, but I don’t really want to hear.
“Don’t bother, Ben. I am not interested. Clearly you and I have been having some fun the last few months, but it is over now, so let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”
He looks at me in complete shock. “Fun! You think I have just been having fun with you? I am in insanely in love with you, Lilah! I have been since the first night. Remember the night I carried you all the way home, just so you could not meet anyone else before I had the chance to make you mine?”
He waits for his words to sink in.
He just told me he loves me. He loves me!
“You have a funny way of showing it. I don’t believe you. I think you are a player and I was foolish to think otherwise. Now would you please kindly leave my room?” My voice is loud and close to breaking. Any attempt not to wake the neighbours has been forgotten.
I turn my face away from his.
He stares at me for a couple moments mor
e before heading silently out of my room. The door closes behind him and it feels as if my heart has smashed into a million tiny pieces.
I can hear him shouting in the room next door, but I don’t care to listen. I have just wedged my pillow over my ears instead.
Home
It's five hours later and I am still lying on the bed with a pillow over my head. Except it is my bed in my flat. I do not plan to ever leave. I am just going to stay here. There is no way I am ever going to live in that Halls of Residence again.
Meredith was here with Tristan when I arrived. Tristan jumped up and grabbed me in a massive hug. Obviously Ben had been on the phone to them. I gave Tristan a hug before pushing past them into my room where I have spent the rest of the day, hiding under the duvet with a bottle of vodka, refusing to speak to anyone.
I am drunk.
Vodka = Good
Yesterday I had one and a half boyfriends. Today I have none. The irony is not lost on me at all.
11th November
Remembrance Day
12.00 p.m.
Armistice Day always makes me depressed. Seeing all those soldiers who were once so brave and strong marching past the Cenotaph saluting their fallen comrades always moves me to tears. Today it has moved me to near hysteria.
I am drunk. Again. Vodka is my new boyfriend. Ha, ha!
The vodka is numbing everything. Occasionally, I have a moment or two of lucidity when I ask myself, what the hell am I doing? Why am I reacting like a complete nutcase? Sure, Ben acted like a prick and hurt my feelings, but did I really have to run away? It's not like he was ever my boyfriend anyway. I should think of him the way he thinks of me: just someone to have sex with.
Meredith has given me thirty seconds before she starts knocking the door down. I would like to see her try. It sounds funny. Unfortunately, I have run out of vodka and I think it will take too long for her to achieve her objective. I may have sobered up by then.
12.01 p.m.
