I lay in bed and opened up Instagram to try to soothe my racing thoughts. I had not had any reply to my comment from lucybest65 on Mrs Clean’s account. I wasn’t sure what annoyed me more: her initial comment or not replying to mine.
It had been so long since I had been caught up with real emotions involving people, that I was shocked at my own responses. I had begun to feel things from opposite ends of the spectrum. Right now, I felt anger. Angry at lucybest65.
Calvin had kindly texted me early Saturday morning to check I was okay, and by Monday morning as I was getting myself ready for my first lecture of the day, I felt ready to reply to his text.
I’m sorry, I’m just not ready.
I had thought I was going to be fine, But I had to get rip-roaring drunk to navigate my way through the date. And that was no way to start a relationship.
His reply came in swiftly afterwards.
It’s okay, I understand. It was just good to meet you. Perhaps we can still do our book club, but online?
Then he gave me his Twitter and Facebook handles and signed off with ‘take care’ and a kiss.
I smiled at the sincerity, and I knew it was all probably for the best. A relationship was not what I needed. I was perfectly happy with Instagram. It seemed to give me exactly what I needed in terms of reward systems for my brain.
The room was beginning to feel hot, so I opened the window just an inch to let in some air.
But as soon as I did, I could hear it, the pained sobs of the little boy next door, and my heart immediately began to tug; the sound of his cries were a physical pain in my stomach. I needed to scoop him up and I felt an overwhelming maternal instinct kicking in. I sat with my head in my hands. I decided enough was enough. The poor little helpless child next door was obviously being abused or neglected in some way.
I would do what I knew I needed to do.
I stripped and re-made my bed with clean sheets, locked and unlocked the window six times and lined up four loose pound coins in a row in perfect symmetry. Then I padded downstairs quietly so as not to wake anyone else.
As I approached the bottom of the stairs, I heard two hushed voices; Steve’s and someone else’s. I crept quietly towards the kitchen and stopped suddenly as I heard the hushed tones become strained, as though an argument was erupting, but they didn’t wish to be heard. I edged a little closer, but it was no use, I couldn’t hear anything of what was being said. I didn’t have any time to waste, so I walked into the kitchen to see Sophia and Steve who were stood near to one another in the corner near the pantry. Sophia was still in her nightgown and silk dressing gown. Steve was in a T-shirt and joggers. He had obviously slept here last night. Karen, although she was clearly still angry with me, had made a conscious effort to not let Steve let himself in when she wasn’t here. Steve took a wide step backwards and looked sheepishly over at me. Sophia was now busying herself with taking out a jar of jam from the pantry. I cleared my throat and went to the fridge to take out some oat milk.
‘Morning, all,’ I said casually.
‘Hiya,’ Sophia said. She pulled her dressing gown tighter around her, readjusting the tie around her waist.
Steve skirted past me, and Sophia called after him.
‘I’ll keep thinking of ideas – hopefully we can come up with a good birthday present between us.’
Steve gave me a quick look before he made it to the door and left.
‘Birthday?’ I said to Sophia as I filled the kettle.
‘Yep, Karen’s.’ Sophia sat down at the table. ‘Stick enough in there for me.’
I filled the kettle to just under halfway.
‘When is it her birthday?’ I took two mugs down from the cupboard.
‘August.’
‘August? Planning early then?’
‘Well, not really, things get booked up really quickly, plus this is Karen we’re talking about here, she’s… like a sister to me.’ Sophia’s voice caught and I thought I saw tears well up in her eyes.
‘Right,’ I said and leant against the counter. ‘Efficiency.’
‘Is there enough in there for me?’ Karen walked into the kitchen and pointed at the kettle. ‘Hey, Soph, I haven’t seen you all weekend. Is everything okay?’
Sophia fell into a chair and looked up. Her eyes were pooled with tears, and she quickly brushed one away that had escaped.
‘God yeah, I’m fine. It’s just this year, it’s hard. I just popped back to Mum and Dad’s on Friday, just for a change of scenery. Sometimes I get sick of looking at the same four walls. How was your weekend?’ Then Sophia looked at me. ‘Oh shit, Regi, your date, how did it go?’
Karen took my hot water, poured her tea, gave Sophia’s shoulder a quick squeeze and headed upstairs. I was slightly perturbed that Karen wasn’t staying to listen, as she was the one who was so keen to get me off to market in the first place.
I watched Karen leave. I took out a bowl and some bran flakes, then I sat down at the table. ‘I, er, got a bit drunk.’ I tried to force a smile, but all I could see was the figure in the baseball cap lurking behind Calvin as he bent to kiss me.
