I chuckled and we had breakfast together. Conversation was scarce but after a while, I broke some news.
“Mom…I uh…I have been doing some thinking and I think I need to see a psychologist.” I said.
My mother took a sip of her coffee and my sister did not really react.
Putting her mug down, my mother answered, “oh! Well, I think you should too. I mean especially after last night, you need to see someone about that.”
My sister still thinking I had a bad dream butted in, “a psychologist for bad dreams? They’ll pass!”
I put my hand on my sister’s shoulder and smiled, “yeah you’re right. But I still think I should because of everything with Dad. I guess I’m not exactly taking it that well.”
“Does your college have a therapist?” My mother asked.
“As a matter of fact, it does. I think when I go back, I’ll book myself in. Besides, it’ll do me good to do some talking. You know, let it all out and such.” I responded.
The atmosphere for the final two days of our trip was uneasy. There was an elephant in the room whenever the three of us were united. The elephant being the fact that my incident coupled with discussing it, opened up the question of coping and dealing with the grief we were all going through.
We made it through though and before we knew it, each of us was back to our respective daily routines. Indeed, I booked an appointment with the school therapist. It was for the following Wednesday.
I remember every event of that day. I woke up nervous. I’d never been to counselling before and was never very good with words. Expressing myself was an arduous task and I seldom had to do so. In spite of the fact that I came from an open family, having focused attention on my own sentiments was an extremely discomforting prospect. I was still willing to try though.
The session was somewhat awkward. I did not make the therapist’s job easy. She asked me awkward questions about my childhood and how I was raised. Nothing which had a correlation to the grief I was going through. To surmise, I was disappointed. I left her office after the two hours and headed straight for the nearest cafe that I could find. A well deserved hot chocolate was in order for the strenuous rambling about pointless facts of my life.
I placed my order and coffee in hand, I sat in the quietest corner of the cafe. Looking around with my hands clasped firmly around my cup for a brief moment of warmth which transfused upwards to my arms, I noticed the amount of students working busily away on coursework that they had due.
Tables were packed to the rim with laptops and textbooks while the eyes of the students were fixed to their screens. Fingers hurriedly typing only taking a break to sip on their hot beverages. A certain guilt came upon me. I knew that I should be working on my dissertation but given the day I’d been having, I let myself take the afternoon off.
After having people-people-watched for about two minutes, I heard a rustle coming from the table right next to mine. I had been so focused on what was in front of me that I didn’t even notice who was next to me.
I turned my head discreetly in a subtle manner and my eyes caught the sight of a young, beautiful girl. She was writing something down in a notebook. Next to her was a purple rucksack, and on her table there was nothing else but a few pens and a glass of water. She was so focused on whatever it was she was writing. It was adorable and I was drawn to her. In the moment, I didn’t know exactly what it was that I was attracted to but looking back, I am sure that it was a combination of her determination and her beauty.
The former was mesmerising. She was writing paragraphs at such speed. It sounds banal and perhaps even mundane, but just watching this young lady write with such purpose was inspiring and in another way, entertaining.
In terms of her beauty, I could see it straight away. At least from what was clearly visible. Her hair was covering her face as she was bent forwards engulfed by her work. I will try to not sound predicable and cliche but her locks were gorgeous. She had smooth, straight dark red hair which came down past her elbows. She was a curvaceous woman, beautiful and majestic.
Wearing a green t shirt, a pair of blue straight-cut jeans and a pair of converse, her fashion sense was remarkably similar to mine: tom-boyish yet delicate. So why did it look so much better on her? She pulled off the look a million times better than I could.
All that was left for me to see was the most important aspect of her: her face. Not for superficial reasons but to be able to work her out, per-say. We all have a story and I believe that you can tell a lot of things about a person’s character from just their eyes. I sat there for moments but it felt like hours. I wondered who she could be, what sort of woman she was and what story her eyes would tell, were we to meet.
I was nervous. Do I speak to this girl? I asked myself this but my mind quickly reminded me of the fact that introducing myself would be absurd. She was busy and working, how could I possibly in good conscience distract her?
Besides, for all I know she could be straight and have a boyfriend. Some part of me really wanted to meet her and talk to her. Such thoughts gushed through my head and anxiety built up inside of me. I decided to look ahead of myself and ignore my surroundings for a while. However, as I decided to do so, the most magical moment of my life occurred.
The girl stopped writing and put her pen down. I saw it from the corner of my eye. She swept the bangs of hair out of her face and she turned to face me. I think she sensed that I was looking at her but it’s very possible, she was just making a rapid glance.
I made a risky decision to meet her gaze and I turned my head to look upon her. My insides illuminated and I felt a warmth that was so much more comforting than the cup in my hands. I was speechless. This girl’s face was like no other. Her eyes were a deep brown colour and held an element of mystery to them. They were pools of coffee which I would have done anything to be able to swim in. They were inviting and with that stare, she captured my heart. The lashes that framed these wonderful eyes were glamorously long and luscious. Her eyebrows were just as cute. They were bushy and natural. She was a goddess and I swallowed with oomph as our eyes fixed.
The mutual regard must have lasted only ten seconds or so. There were no emotive expressions shared until I saw her soft tender lips go from a state of neutrality to a gentle and kind smile.
“Hey there” she uttered out of the blue. I blushed. Her voice was soothing but there was also a hint of glee to it.
“Oh hi, sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you” I replied apologetically.
“Not a problem, I just thought I was bothering you or maybe you wanted a spare chair or something.” She enquired.
It was during these words that I noticed she had an east-end accent. Despite the common view held by the rest of the London that the east London accent is annoying and whiny, I found hers enticing. It was endearing. Such a strong and confident accent coming out of a gorgeous girl like her was something uniquely enchanting.
“No chairs for me thanks.” I said.
“Alright, got ya!” She answered, in acknowledgment of what I had said.
A moment of pause ensued and then, a sort of awkwardness arose. We knew that one of us had to speak. This was not the socially appropriate way to terminate such a conversation.
Yet, nothing came to mind. I was tongue-tied and just smiling stupidly to myself without anything intelligent to say in that moment.
The girl then spoke and finally broke the deafening silence, “so do you go to this university too?”
I turned to face her, “yeah I do! What do you study?”
“I am a Spanish and English major, how about you?”
“I’m a Religion major.” I answered without as much enthusiasm as she may have expected.
She grinned and nodded politely. I then stuck my hand out and introduced myself properly, “I’m Adrienne!”
The girl firmly grasped my hand with a confident hand shake and said, “Georgia! Pleasure!”
I specifically remember thinking how fitting th
at name was for her. She just looked like a Georgia and no other name would have suited her.
“So when you aren’t in here studying, what do you like to do?” I asked her.
“Well, it’s very rare that you’d catch me in here studying.” She replied cheekily.
I furthered, “oh yeah?”
Georgia took a sip of her water and swallowed it quickly before putting down the glass. While playing with her hair in an almost childlike manner, she answered, “yeah, I’m a party kind of person. I love to hang out with mates , get hammered and just have a good time.”
“Ah I see. The opposite of me then.” I chuckled.
“Really?” Georgia rapidly came back with.
“Yeah, you seem surprised. I’m just not the partying type. I prefer calm environments and just doing things that involve as little socialising as possible.” I replied.
“That’s deep. Doesn’t that get lonely?” She enquired.
I thought for a moment and said, “not really, it’s who I’ve always been. I don’t particularly like how people get when they’re drunk and it’s never appealed to me to just lose my mind, so to speak.”
“I see your point of view but it’s nice to let your hair down and go crazy every once in a while, no? Or in my case, every night of the week pretty much” Georgia laughed unapologetically.
I smiled trying to just be nice. I hated these kinds of social situations, especially when someone has brought up some activity which I particularly dislike. Georgia read the expression on my face and she could instantly tell that I was uncomfortable. She attempted to change the conversation. “Can I ask…do you not drink for religious reasons? You said you are a Religion major and I wonder if that has anything to do with it.”
“Oh no no, not at all. I just never really liked the taste and it’s not good for you. I’ve seen a lot of people suffer and struggle because of the effects of alcohol. How about you?”
“How about me? I already told you that I do drink. What’s your question exactly?” She said, startled.
I chuckled and asked, “well I’ve just told you the reason that I don’t drink. So now I’m asking you why you enjoy drinking so much?”
“Like I said before, to have a good time.” Georgia uttered.
“You can have a good time without alcohol can’t you?” I giggled.
The conversation which I had presumed was light and tongue-in-cheek suddenly took a darker turn when Georgia answered my question.
“You do when you have a lot of things to try to forget about.” She said this in a grievous tone and lowered her head. She stared at the floor. I was taken a-back by this. Up until this point in the conversation, I made the assumption that this girl was happy-go-lucky but in the space of ten seconds, her composure changed entirely.
“I’m so sorry, have I upset you?” I asked.
Like a robot, a switch clicked in her brain and she rebooted by putting on a huge smile again. This perturbed me slightly since I could tell she was faking it.
“You haven’t upset me at all, why?” She asked, acting as if I wasn’t receptive to the disturbing manner in which she had just answered my question.
“You’re asking me why? What did you mean by what you said about forgetting things?” I asked, concerned.
Georgia really seemed to regret what she let slip past her lips. She tried to pretend like it didn’t happen, at all cost.
“Nothing, I’m just saying that student life and the stress of work become overwhelming sometimes and drinking socially can help with that.”
Falling for her excuse, I just listened to what she said and finished off my drink.
“I’ll tell you what. My friend is having a party this weekend and I’d love it if you could come!”
I wasn’t too keen on what was being proposed but politely asked for more information. “What sort of party is it?”
“Just a house party. Katie is one of my closest mates and she said I could invite people if I wanted.” She replied.
“It’s really not my scene to be honest.” I said, hesitantly.
“Don’t you worry about that. You can stick with me and we can hang out, have a drink, talk and just have a good time.”
“Where is this party being held?” I asked.
“I can text it to you. I mean, if you’re willing to give me your number. I completely understand if you don’t want to. I probably have come across as a completely idiot. Just a stranger inviting you to a party.” She chuckled.
I laughed and softly said, “I’d love to exchange numbers.”
I got my phone out and Georgia kept looking at me as if she was expecting me to say something further.
Once my phone was out, I looked up at her and added, “oh… and for the record, no you aren’t an idiot. You seem like a lovely person.”
Relieved, she bit her lip, smiling. We seemed like complete opposites at the time and in retrospect, I’m amazed at what became of that initial exchange.
I know myself and typically, I wouldn’t keep in touch with girls like her. Partying was not my thing and so I didn’t know what hypnotised me to accept her phone number and consider her invite.
I know now what it was. It her charm, her wit and her outgoing personality that reached into my body and found the remaining remnants of a fun-loving girl who used to exist.
We shared phone numbers and after we both finished putting in one another’s details, she locked her cell and cutely said, “cool!”
I grinned because of how adorable she was without even knowing it. She didn’t notice this.
Using rapid movements, she put her work in her bag and asserted, “I think I’m going to head off now, I have an assignment due in tomorrow.”
“Really? How much more of it do you have left?” I asked.
She looked upwards, thinking hard and dwelling on what response to give. Finally, her words came out, “about two thousand words.”
“Wow that is a lot to do but I’m sure you’ll be able to finish it!” I reassuringly posited.
“I hope so.” She replied crossing her fingers as a nervous gesture.
Georgia stood up and I got the first glance of her whole body and figure. It wasn’t a shallow thing, it was more the fact that I had never been in the presence of such a lovely looking young lady before.
I was distracted by her being and almost didn’t hear her say “it was great meeting you A-drienne. Am I saying it right?”
“It’s pronounced Ay-dree-enn” I corrected her. How adorable that she couldn’t say it right. I can’t blame her though, I’m usually the first Adrienne that people meet.
“You can just call me ‘Adri’ if you like. All my friends do!” I furthered.
“Adri it is then.” She said with a cheeky wink.
We didn’t embrace or even shake hands. Off she went, but at least I had her number. Once she was gone and I found myself alone again, I felt two contrasting emotions which proved to create a very strange sensation in my brain.
On the one hand, I was a bit disappointed because I got the impression that Georgia was too different to me for us to be friends. On the other, I was proud of myself for being social and taking a leap at something that I would not otherwise have pursued.
In my head, there wasn’t much chance of me going to that party but a part of me wanted to keep an open mind. I didn’t know who this girl was or anything about her and despite our apparent differences, I was attracted to her and I wasn’t really sure why.
3
When We Met
The remaining days of that grey week dragged by slowly. They were filled with reading, typical university work, budgeting my meals and the usual boring routine. I hadn’t thought about Georgia even once. What I had thought a lot about was the way my life was headed.
Subconsciously, I suppose that I considered her just a girl who I’d randomly met. Someone unremarkable who would have little to no significance in my life.
On Friday morning, I did think of her though. She
crossed my mind as I was drinking my morning cup of tea. Georgia came into my head as I contemplated my life. It occurred to me that I wasn’t considering Georgia in the right way. She wasn’t some wild girl from the depths of a sinful realm surrounded by an array of bad influences, as I had previously assumed. Not at all. Verily, she was a typical student. I was the one who was abnormal.
Youth is not eternal and I wasn’t taking full advantage of the short time I was given to live and enjoy life, without worry or consequence. I should have been enjoying my life instead of wasting my young adult years doing the banal things that I can spend the rest of my life doing. It’s not fun being a forty year old in a twenty-something year old’s body.
These thoughts were surely a wide awakening for me. With an anxious mind, I realised that I needed to get out of this particular routine which was rendering me lonely, boring and trapped.
Forever and Always Page 2
