Living on Borrowed Time, page 9
This unexpected statement caused me to take more notice of him. As I looked up, I could clearly see that he was a lot older than me—he was likely mid-to-late thirties—but he had a kind face too. He was wearing a business suit, with a tie half untied—probably because he had only just finished work—and he had a splattering of stubble over his chin. His twinkly bluey-green eyes glittered as he smiled, but that didn’t make me warm to him. I’d just been blown off, because of my own actions, and I wasn’t ready to make small talk with someone else. He may have been cute in an older-guy kind of way, but I wasn’t in the mood for anyone.
“S’okay.” I muttered, hoping that would be enough to deter him for the time being. Of course, my luck had completely run out because it didn’t.
“Do you want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?” He asked, causing my hackles to rise once more. I’d already been through this once; there was no way I was doing it again. Why couldn’t everyone just leave me be? Couldn’t people tell that talking was the last thing I needed?
“No.” I snapped, much harsher than I intended.
“Okay.” He replied simply, sounding far too breezy for my liking. “Let’s talk about something else instead. Who do you think would win in a fight, Spiderman or Batman?”
A laugh unexpectedly burst from my chest at this. He’d done exactly what I’d wanted Charlie to do. He’d completely ignored my awkwardness, and changed the subject to something fun and light-hearted instead. I found myself wanting to continue this chat, to go down the path that tonight should have done.
“Well,” a grin spread across my face. “I would say…Spiderman…” which of course started the most spirited debate of all time.
FIFTEEN
This encounter felt wholly different. For starters, I couldn’t even remember the name of this guy—I wasn’t totally sure that we’d even exchanged names—and for another, there was no kissing, no tenderness. It just sort of…happened.
We had a laugh at the pub, and when last call was announced, we just sort of drifted back to his place, still chuckling at our stupid, completely ridiculous conversation. None of it had been personal, it had all been pure fun, and that was exactly what I had needed at the time.
Now, I found myself lying here, looking at the sleeping back of this complete and utter stranger, wondering what the fuck I was playing at. There were so many times I could have made the smart decision to not sleep with this guy. Okay, I’d been very drunk, but not wasted enough to not know what I was doing. I did it because I thought it would make me feel better, but it didn’t. Not at all.
When I hooked up with Charlie, that was on a whim too, but I’d felt something for him deep down. There had been a serious connection between the pair of us, which had sparked from very first sight. I felt nothing for that guy. Not at all. And now the fact that we’d had sex made me feel dirty, used and useless.
Always useless.
What the hell was going on with me? Why did I keep acting so out of character?
Not that I really had a character. Maybe this was me after all. Maybe I was slutty; I’d just never known it until now.
I had a text message from Kimberly sitting in my phone, but I hadn’t even looked at it yet. I was too ashamed to tell her how badly the date had gone, and what I’d done afterwards. I didn’t want to drag her into the mess I’d created. She would be ashamed of me, or try to help me, neither of which I could handle. I’d already been helped so much in my life, and it hadn’t exactly gotten my anywhere. I needed to sort my own life out.
Not that I was getting very far with that either.
I’d thought that’s what I was doing. Earlier tonight, I’d been convinced that I was moving forward in a positive way, but it seemed that now I was pushing everything to the brink, trying to find some version of myself that didn’t exist.
I didn’t exist. I hadn’t existed for a very long time. I could no longer relate to the ‘sick girl’, and I couldn’t remember the person I’d been beforehand either. I hadn’t been anyone since, so really, I was no one.
Nothing.
When I’d made the solid decision to make an effort about this living thing, I’d assumed that it was going to be easy. I thought it was all going to be positive and fun, I didn’t account for the challenges I would face along the way. I hadn’t expected to come across anything to be honest; I thought all the hard stuff was behind me.
How naive I was!
As the stranger slumped by my side starting snoring heavily, the tears started to fall. I’d been numb for so long that I was trying to feel something, and I took that way too far. I hadn’t been able to cope with Charlie rejecting me, and I’d failed in finding a new way to feel good. I felt far worse, and I wasn’t sure how to move forward from that—or if it was even possible.
As I wept, I snuck out of the stranger’s bed and quickly chucked my clothes on. There was no way that I could sleep here, even if I want to—which I definitely didn’t. I couldn’t wake up with a nameless man, not a chance! I wanted to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. I needed to be in my own bedroom, where I could make some solid decisions about what the future held for me.
As I rushed out onto the streets, still feeling a little drunk, the cold air hit me hard. It rushed past my skin, almost scarring it as I practically ran as far away from this building as quickly as I could. I wanted to be home now. I wanted to shower. To wash this entire experience off of me. I didn’t ever want to put myself in a situation like that ever again. I vowed never be so stupid, get so out of control. I just wouldn’t allow it to happen. I would learn from this, I had to.
***
The hot water poured over my head, instantly making me feel a little calmer and more in control of myself. The tears were still streaming down my face, but now they didn’t seem to have so much power over me. I could put a stop to all of this. It wasn’t exactly like I was out of my depth completely; I’d just made a stupid mistake. There was no need to get so panicked.
Okay, I’d had a one night stand with someone I liked—then totally messed that up. Then I’d slept with someone I didn’t know or liked, but it wasn’t the end of the world. I wouldn’t be the first person to make that error, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last either. I needed to put it in perspective.
I scrubbed my skin, hard, wanting to wash all of the stains of the night from me. As soon as I’d had a sleep, I decided that I would contact all of my friends and concentrate on the positive aspects that I’d been working towards. There was no reason to allow this to stop all of the good things that had been happening for me.
I could carry on down the path I’d been carving.
After this pep talk, I started to feel a little better. It was fine. I would be fine at any rate. I needed to make sure of that.
Maybe I would even ring my mother…
SIXTEEN
“Today is a new day.” I muttered, as I sat up in my bed feeling bleary-eyed with the hangover. But to be honest, the positivity that I’d been feeling last night had ebbed away, and what I was left with was a cold, empty crappy sensation that had consumed my entire body.
Aren’t fresh starts supposed to feel a bit more…positive?
“It’s okay, just…get going.” I whispered, hoping that I could at least do that much. Maybe once I got started on organising my life, and sorting out where I was going to go next, everything else would simply fall into place. Or maybe I was being naive all over again…
I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, hoping that a cup of coffee would give me the boost I so desperately needed, but as the kettle boiled my eyes unwittingly rested on my calendar, giving me the worst news possible. Normally, I would look at the dates and only see my work shifts, but now I could see something that I’d been trying to forget, that had sunk into the depths of my mind with all that had been going on.
It was the date of my biannual check up at the hospital.
The hospital was so significant in my life, and I hated it with a fiery passion. Every time I stepped through those doors, I felt like my life was hanging in the balance all over again. The city hospital was better than the one from my hometown—it felt a little less personal at least, which I liked—but no appointment made me feel good. They always reverted me right back to the person I was, to the girl who had no future, but who had a fun-filled life. I always felt inadequate compared to her, and despite all of my progressive steps forward, today felt no different.
And this time, I’d been so distracted that I hadn’t even given myself a suitable time to prepare for it.
As I poured the coffee into my mug I could see my hand trembling with fear. I was already a mess, how the hell was I going to be when I actually walked into the doctor’s office? At least the guy I saw here didn’t know me well enough to judge me. He was very clear and concise when he discussed what was happening with me, which I welcomed, but I’d still rather avoid it at all costs if I could.
Should I just…not go?
The temptation was there—just a little bit—but I wasn’t idiotic enough to follow through with it. I would just have to suck it up and get on with it…
The empty numbness that had infected my life entirely until recently, consumed me slowly as the morning passed. I kept working myself up into tight, manic knots, before unwinding and feeling absolutely nothing once more. It was a vicious cycle that I had no idea how to break. My appointment wasn’t until 1.30pm, and I certainly didn’t feel the need to arrive early, which left me with a long unfilled time with nothing to do. I tried to find something useful to do to make the hours pass quicker, but my brain was too distracted with what was about to come. I simply couldn’t focus on anything properly.
It wasn’t that I was particularly concerned about finding out that I was ill again—although that revelation would have been difficult to take, just when I’d made the decision to have a go at life—I just hated the white, clinical coldness of the hospital environment. It spelt nothing but bad news to me, and that was all I could think about. I kept seeing myself receiving more and more bad news, over and over again, like a horror film playing in my mind. My one stipulation about my death had been that it wasn’t to happen within a hospital building. I knew it had been selfish of me to ask to do it at home, where my younger half brothers lived, but it was all that I desired. Hell, I would have taken anywhere other than a hospital building! I just couldn’t bear the thought of spending my last living moments in a place that I truly detested.
I had to suck down some anxiety before stepping out the door to ensure that I at least appeared normal to the rest of the world, all the time wishing that I could just take all of this in my stride. I’d met many others on my illness journey who were so together about the whole thing. They had their heads fully screwed on, just making me feel even worse about the mess that I’d made of everything. As their faces flickered through my mind, and I wondered how many of them were now gone, I wondered what they would think to see me throwing away my second chance at life. I tried to imagine what they’d say to me, but that only resulted in me feeling even worse about myself.
As I ambled slowly down towards the bus stop, I tried to ignore my racing heart and my negative thought pattern. I tried to keep it all shut down and under control, but in all honesty I was a trembling mess. Even as I sat on the bus seat, and I tried to concentrate only on the movement of the vehicle, I felt myself falling apart. I even tried doing the calming, breathing techniques that someone had taught me somewhere along the line, but it got me nowhere.
In…out…in…out…
People were probably looking at me strangely—I may have even become the bus weirdo but I didn’t care. I was too freaked out to continue considering how I appeared to the rest of the world.
Just get through this. I thought to myself. Keep breathing and everything will be okay. But the words were hollow, even in my brain. They didn’t even feel connected to me, to what I was going through.
By the time I actually walked through the double doors that led me into the hospital wing I needed, I was a state. So much so, that the nurse who took my blood pressure and weighed me before I went in to see the consultant, actually felt the need to comment on it.
“Are you okay, Miss Rogers?” She asked me, a concerned look plastered across her face. “Only, you seem a little…tense.” That was her polite way of telling me to reel it in, that I looked like a freak show. For someone who saw sick people over and over again every single day, this was something of a wakeup call—only it was far too late for me to really be able to do anything to help myself.
“I’m just a little nervous.” I tried to play down my emotions, not wanting to cause any concern. The last thing I needed was extra attention, I just needed this done. “I just…don’t like hospitals.” I finished with the understatement of the year.
“You’ve seen Dr. Shaw before, right?” She smiled in what I assumed she thought was a reassuring gesture. “He’s lovely, he’ll look after you.”
She didn’t get it. Of course she didn’t. I nodded quickly smiled blandly at her, hoping that she wouldn’t ask me anymore. Somehow it seemed like someone was looking down on me, granting my wishes because I was called into the doctor’s room quicker than I’d ever been before, taking me far away from her and what felt like her endless stream of questions…
***
As soon as I left the hospital wing, I didn’t head for the bus like I knew I should. Instead, I ambled out in a daze and found myself walking towards the first bar I could find, without even really planning to. It was almost like an automatic reaction, one that I couldn’t control. The pub I wandered into was one of those places filled mainly with elderly alcoholic men—particularly at just before 3pm on a weekday afternoon—but that didn’t bother me. I didn’t care where it was, or who would be inside, all I knew for sure was that I was craving booze after that ordeal.
It hadn’t been a bad appointment exactly, there was certainly nothing physically wrong with me anymore, it was just all the personal questions that I found too much to handle. They seemed to take it upon themselves to suggest counselling for me every single damn time I went there. Somewhere along the line, someone must have made the note that I was depressed, and now that label had stuck, and there was nothing I could do to shake it off.
I tried to cover up the truth about me, and act like everything was alright, but it seemed that acting certainly wasn’t something I was good at.
How could the doctor’s not see that talking about my problems wasn’t the answer for me? That speaking them aloud would only make things worse. I’d be much better off if they just left me damn well alone to get on with things. I’d been doing fine so far.
Well, okay maybe not fine exactly, but I was working through things. I’d been surviving, existing, and I was doing my best to make it more than that. I needed to look forwards, not backwards, which was the reason I refused their offer every single time.
It still pissed me off that I had to defend myself, when I knew what was best for me.
“Wine, please.” I murmured at the stressed looking woman behind the bar. As soon as she shoved the glass in front of me, and I’d pressed a bank note into her hands, I slunk away to find a secluded seat, wanting to be by myself.
I sat at the small table by the window and drank. As the calming liquid slid down my throat, I decided that as soon as I finished this glass, I would get on the next bus home. One drink would be enough to wash this horrible day away, then I would need to prepare myself for my next shift at the diner.
Just one drink, then back to reality…
SEVENTEEN
I never made it to work that night. Or the next one. In fact, I was pretty sure that I didn’t have a job to go back to anymore. I had a whole bunch of missed calls and answer phone messages from Alfie, but I’d spent the days too drunk to even bother listening to them. I’d gone far past the point where I even cared anymore.
The more alcohol I consumed, the worse I felt, yet somehow I couldn’t seem to stop myself from ordering another one. Just one more. I knew that I was going to have to face my problems head-on at some point, but I wasn’t there yet. In fact, I found myself the furthest away I’d ever been, which was why I kept giving in to temptation. This will be my last one, then I’ll head home—but of course, there was always another last one waiting to be had.
I’d gone home to sleep briefly twice, but I’d never stayed in bed long enough to go from drunk to hungover, so I kept finding myself at yet another bar during all of my waking hours. I knew that I was pissing away my meagre savings that came from never having a social life, but it felt worth it. At least I couldn’t feel anything other than warm and fuzzy—a sensation I was growing to love increasingly with each moment that passed.
I had to keep drinking, to block out my failings. Alcohol was the only thing that could stop the awful thoughts from whirring round and round in my mind. I’d been given a second chance at life, I’d been offered friends, a guy who seemed to actually like me, and I’d thrown it all away with my own stupidity. I’d pissed it all down the drain, and if there was one thing I could be certain of, it was that people like me didn’t get a third chance.
I’d blown it, and now I was screwed.
Worthless.
Useless.
Pointless.
Any moment now, I was going to really lose everything and end up penniless, without even a roof over my head—but even that wasn’t enough to stop me. As I stepped through the door to my home and I looked around, I tried to imagine what I’d do when all of it was gone. Would I live on the streets? Would I have to go back to my mum’s? I really wanted to picture it, and to take the consequences of my actions seriously, but I was just too wasted and I ended up giggling to myself and staggering across the room to flop onto the sofa instead. I needed a short rest, then I could head back out again for some more fun.
My phone blasted out loudly like it’d been doing for days, and it was only the name plastered across the screen that prevented me from throwing it across the room, never wanting to look at it again.
