The end of the world. Part 2

I looked blankly at the crushed flowers for a minute. My brain seemed to only be able to work very very slowly and my head was still thumping. I picked them up and put them carefully on the floor, then I lay down again, and went back to wishing I were dead.

I’m not sure how long afterwards it was, because I might have drifted off to sleep once more, but the next time I opened my eyes I saw Joel moving quietly around the room. He must have seen me stir because he came across, crouched down next to me, and looked. He didn’t say anything; just looked at me with a kind of half amused, half serious expression in his eyes.

“Hi”

My voice sounded all croaky. I cleared my throat but it didn’t help much.

“You haven’t got a fag have you? I don’t feel very well”

Joel reached in his pocket for one, and then held the lighter for me while I lit it. I took a deep draw on the cigarette and looked at him. He was still watching my face without saying anything. I rubbed my eyes

“God I feel dreadful”

“It’s ok” He reached out and stroked my hair

“It’s not ok. Everything’s ruined”. Suddenly I remembered the bouquet “Oh Joe the flowers. I’m sorry. I think I must’ve fallen asleep on them”

He looked at them lying on the floor.

“I’ll put them in water for you. Some of them might still be ok”

He took the envelope off the cellophane, put it on the bed, next to me, and went out of the room. I lay back again and smoked my cigarette. Suddenly I felt exhausted. I wondered what the time was – there wasn’t a clock, but I could see from the crack between the curtains that it was still daylight outside. It felt like it had already been the longest day of my life

Joel was soon back, with a big glass vase, which he put on the desk. Even in the half dark I could see that I’d wrecked most of the flowers – they were all leaning at crazy angles to each other, and some were bent over backwards, hanging limply over the rim.

“I’m so sorry – it was very sweet of you”

He looked over at me

“Don’t be sorry – it’s ok”

I sat up and the letter slid off the bed

“I wish you’d stop saying it’s ok. Everything is fucked. Oh god I bet I look dreadful too. Is my make up all over my face?”

Joel sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the letter, put it back, and smiled

“You do look like you have two black eyes. Shall I make you some coffee?”

I started to be enthusiastic about the idea of that, and then I remembered that there was nothing to look forward to again and I put my hands over my face with the shame of it.

“Oh god don’t start crying again – look, I’ll go and make some coffee, it’ll help. Why don’t you open that while you wait”?

I took my hands away from my eyes and looked at the envelope for a second.

“I’ll never feel better again – you wouldn’t say that if you knew how I was feeling!”

He was at the door by then, and he stopped briefly before going out

“I do know. Remember my o levels last year? I fucked up the lot of them – worse than you too”

And then he went off to make the coffee

I felt bad for a minute. Poor Joe. He had the most dreadful dyslexia. He was crap at school. He’d got unclassified, which was actually quite difficult to achieve. I made up my mind to apologise for my thoughtlessness.

When he came back in I started to say how sorry I was, but he stopped me;

“it doesn’t matter, here…. drink this. Honestly, you’ll feel better.”

I put my hands around the cup and he was right – it was exactly what I needed

He perched on the end of the bed, watching me silently. After a while I began to get a bit unnerved by his silence, it wasn’t normal.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He sighed. Then he said

“Will you please open the fucking letter?”

I couldn’t understand why he was making such an odd fuss. I’d forgotten all about it in my misery;

“Oh …..yeah…..ok”

I tore open the envelope, took out the single sheet, unfolded it, and began to read. I’d only got about five words in when I started to be puzzled. It wasn’t the short sympathy note I’d expected at all. It was unsigned but I could see it was from Joel – his spidery writing was a giveaway, but it was all spelled correctly and filled the whole page. He hadn’t written that much ever – not even when he’d been in America. It must have taken him ages.

What I read, if it had been from anyone else, would have had me bright red with embarrassment in seconds. It was like the slushiest love song you could imagine. So over the top it couldn’t possibly be real. Plus it was Joel so it obviously couldn’t be true. He didn’t say stuff like that. It must be to cheer me up – make me laugh after my awful shock. Another tease. He was always doing that.

“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Each time you go out with someone else it breaks my heart because I want it to be me instead.” No way could that be real! Not Joel! My puzzlement vanished once I’d worked it out. I looked up into his face, which he was managing really well to keep so straight. I was full of admiration that he could do that.

“This is a joke right?”

There was a short silence before he owned up, but by then I was halfway out of the room with my hand clamped over my mouth. I’d decided I was going to be sick after all.