Coming Home

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btjhdHX8pMo

Monday, 13th December, 2010

‘So... Did you have fun last night, Bex?’ Rose murmurs, smirking into her cereal.

I return a tired smile and continue to sip my coffee, realising that coming down to breakfast was a big mistake – I’m just begging for an interrogation. But I want to pretend that everything is fine, that I’m fine...

‘Corinne really freaked out when you left with him,’ Katie says quietly, daring to meet my gaze. ‘She didn’t know if you were heading back to Butler or your room...’

‘No... We said we wouldn’t do that to each other... part of our roommate agreement,’ I reply, closing my eyes, clinging to my coffee cup for security... I definitely should’ve stayed in bed, or slipped out to my lecture unnoticed.

‘We... We’re really happy you two are back together,’ Rose says, trying a different angle – unfortunately, it’s a very wrong angle.

‘We’re not back together.’

Rose and Katie’s mouths drop open in a simultaneous ‘oh’... I should probably take a photograph of their lips forming perfect circles and send it into ‘Google’ – a suggestion for a new home page.

‘We just... just thought that...’ Rose stutters. ‘You know, because...’

‘Because you let him stick his tongue that far down your throat that you might be back together.’ Adam slams a plate of toast down on the table at my side and takes a seat, grinning like a Cheshire cat. His badly-dyed, bright red hair makes him the perfect candidate for a Tim Burton movie... But I’m not in the mood to pull another ‘Alice in Wonderland’ joke from my repertoire.

‘Shouldn’t you be too hung-over to talk?’ I say pointedly. ‘As a matter of fact, it’s eight-thirty in the morning... What are you doing walking around?’

‘Didn’t want to miss making this morning as awkward as possible for you,’ he replies through a mouth full of toast - a thin, yellow trail of melted butter sliding down his chin.

‘Oh, you’re too kind.’

I know Rose and Katie have been watching me intently since Adam arrived... Hoping I’ll explain, so they don’t have to keep pestering me. I know what they’re thinking, and why they’re thinking it... But what actually happened is almost the opposite. And I don’t really want to think about that right now.

‘Me and Sam... Last night was a mistake, OK?’ I whisper, tracing the rim of my cup with the tip of my finger. ‘Look... what happens in Klute, stays in Klute.’

‘But you let him walk you home, didn’t you?’ Adam asks, raising an eyebrow.

‘I’m going to Elvet,’ I growl, taking one last gulp of coffee and standing up.

‘Bex, wait!’ Rose calls, as I turn and start to walk away. ‘I’ll come with you.’

A yelp behind me indicates that Katie has kicked Adam under the table, and I stop – weighing up my options. I like Rose. She’s been through a lot with Greg this term and maybe she’ll understand – it might be good for me to talk to someone about it. So I wait and let her catch up with me; a voluntary interrogation might be nicer than riddles with the Cheshire cat.

* * *

I pull away as his hand slides down my back. He freezes, peering down at me questioningly, and his fingers hover over the ruffles of my dress – waiting for the ‘go ahead’. But I look away from him – it feels like I’ve suddenly come up for air after having my head held underwater for too long. The scene has changed completely; I spot my friends across the other side of the dance floor, their blurry heads bobbing in a tangled sea of bodies. It seems Sam and I have drifted to the ‘couples corner’ – we’re surrounded by people with their limbs locked tightly around each other in animalistic embraces, all in different stages of foreplay... And I need to get out of here. Sam and I... We don’t belong here – and he knows it. Rising onto my toes, I whisper urgently in his ear: “We should go”, and hope it didn’t sound more alluring than I intended.

His eyes scan my face, then he gives a stiff nod. Grabbing my hand, he leads me away from the dance floor. We pass a group of third years on their fourth round of ‘Voddie Quaddies’ and there are a few cheers and cat-calls. ‘Have fun tonight, kids!’ one of them yells. ‘We know you will!’ I try to wipe the mortification from my face as Sam tightens his grip on my hand... Surely he doesn’t think...? I turn back and glare at the third years, silently cursing them for putting ideas into his head... Although I’m cursing myself more for letting this happen.

After quickly retrieving our coats from the cloak room, we’re half way across Elvet Bridge when I realise he’s still holding my hand, but I daren’t say anything... Not just yet, anyway. We’re silent for a long time, just looking straight ahead. I know what I have to say to him... And I know how to say it, because, unfortunately, we’ve been here before; three weeks ago. I’ve had a lot of bitter tastes of irony in my time, especially since I came to Durham – and, once again, I feel that cruel, familiar bite; the speech I’m about to deliver saw its first performance on this same walk back to St Mary’s. Of course, it would also be so easy to let him take me back to Butler – do us both a favour. And I’ll use the speech as an excuse to leave tomorrow morning. But I know I can’t do that...

I’m building up the courage to get the ball rolling when a woman walks past and smiles at us both – a truly warm smile. And I know what she’s thinking: ‘What a cute couple’, ‘Do you know one out of three people will meet their future spouses at Durham?’ I wish things were that simple... I wish I could be with Sam. But it doesn’t feel right – and never has done really. We’re missing that spark... that essential chemistry. And, at the moment, I’m in no rush to settle. After everything, I figure I owe it to myself to find a guy who can make my stomach flip the way it used to...

‘Bex?’ Sam murmurs, finally.

I take a deep breath and turn to him. ‘Sam...’ There’s a sad, defeated look in his eyes and I realise he already knows what I need to say.

* * *

‘Bex... Bex?’

Someone is shaking my shoulders and I suddenly jolt awake. An Elvet Riverside lecture theatre swims into view at an odd angle, and I can feel something cool pressing against my cheek. Carefully straightening up, I peel the lecture’s hand-out from the side of my face and consider the patterns my drool has made on quotes from Dr Cartlidge’s new book.

‘Are you OK?’

I turn to see Rose and Alice, and most of the people sitting on the row, staring at me. ‘Sorry...’ I mutter, pushing my fringe behind my ear. ‘Wait... Please tell me I didn’t talk whilst I was asleep?’

Rose shakes her head. ‘Maybe you should go and get another coffee?’

‘Yeah, good idea.’ I stand up and start shoving my notepad and saliva-stained sheet into my bag. ‘I’ll head to Esquires... See you back at Mary’s for lunch?’

Rose and Alice nod, and I try to make a hasty exit, praying Dr Cartlidge didn’t notice I slept through his lecture... I’ll find out when I get my essay back next term. If it’s a ‘20: inept’, I’ll have my answer.

* * *

The bench is freezing, but I try not to let the cold bother me – just focus on the warmth of the corrugated cardboard clutched in my hands, as I inhale the coffee fumes billowing from the tiny slot in the white plastic top of my take-out cup. This has to be my favourite spot in the whole of Durham – the benches by the side of the River Wear, opposite the cathedral. It’s the only place I can get some space now that I’m sharing a room at College. But I’m not complaining. The river is partially frozen and the water is almost black. There are sheets of ice by the banks, clear but dusted with snow, and a shrunken Wear budges its way downstream. The whole thing is like the optical illusion with the wheels that look like they’re moving if you concentrate, and it’s starting to hurt my eyes so I look away.

I’m happy that the coffee is keeping my hands busy, because I’m desperate for a cigarette. I never told Sam about my smoking... Thinking about it, there are so many things that he doesn’t know about me... He never really knew me at all. Even now I have to remind myself that I’m only five months older than him. Adam keeps telling me I sound like Yoda - it makes me think of the film, ‘An Education’: ‘I probably looked as wide-eyed, fresh, and artless as any other student. But I wasn't.’

I pull my mobile from my jeans pocket... I think I’ll ring my dad, tell him I miss him, and that I’m ready to come home.