Next day

for a second all is perfect...however, as is customary on such
mornings, i make the fatal flaw of stretching out, feline-style, until
my toes stick out the end of the duvet. it is then that i feel the
slow, dull ache of my turgid bladder, and realise that i have a maximum
of five minutes before bursting point. i will soon have to emerge from
the comforts of my bed-cocoon to stagger into the infinitely less
comfortable bathroom to relieve my swollen body. i close my eyes to see
if going back to sleep could deter this encounter but now something
else imposes itself on my state of semi-consciousness- thirst. it seems
that every single drop of liquid in my body has turned itself into wee
while i was sleeping. i cannot escape it; the time has come to rectify
matters...
the problem of not wanting to leave my bed is easily solved: wrapping
my bedding around me i heave myself up into a sitting position.
woah...it takes about three seconds for the room to catch up with me.
my head is throbbing persistently. i feel like shit. i want my mum...
but more than her i want the toilet. i stumble my slug-like self
through the door, round the corner, into the bathroom.
shedding my padded outer layer, i reach to undo my trousers (i am not
surprised to find that I have slept in my clothes; this is not
incredibly unusual for foolish piss-heads such as myself) but then i
stop. these are not my trousers. i don't even recognise these trousers.
these are boys trousers. i soon find that i am not only wearing these
mysterious beige cords, but also a t-shirt bearing the legend: same
shit, different day. these are not my clothes. how did i get them? i
don't know. what did i do last night? i don't know...dazed, i revert my
attention to my previous concern, relieved to find that at least the
underwear is my own.
returning to the refuge of my bed, i try to recall the previous
night's events. i remember getting back from work, having dinner,
chatting to debs and mike for a while and then...ah....we started
drinking. and then...and then...i sink back into my pillows with a
sigh. i feel as if my brain has malfunctioned and corrupted the memory
part of my brain. gulping down the mug of water which my thoughtful
sober self always leaves by the bed if she expects a wild night out, i
play with the idea of going to ask debs what happened until i happen to
glance at the clock. it is six thirty am. groaning, i retreat from the
unwelcome morning.
four hours later i am feeling much better and though still puzzled,
make my way into the bathroom much more willingly than before. the
shower takes ages to heat up as usual but I eventually step into the
bath and start to soap away whatever grime the previous night has left
on my body. i'm just starting on my right arm when I see it. at first
glance it seems to be just a black smudge, but my memory has recovered
enough to tell me that this is something else. this is, or was, a phone
number. i jump out of the bath as quickly as i can without slipping and
head for the window, squinting at my dripping limb to try and make out
what it says...why do numbers all look so similar? the name of whoever
wrote it has long gone, and one of the numbers too, but i am left with
five digits...5, 1 (or maybe a 7), 7, 2, 4. if its a local number then
it would start with an eight and then i have the whole thing but i have
no idea who gave it to me. it definitely looks like boys writing;
small, concise, pointy. well, from what i could tell looking at five
splodges, anyway.
i head downstairs after my shower, with five numbers scribbled on a
damp piece of paper. i can hear roo singing in the kitchen; she
wouldn't know what happened, she spends all her time either working or
seeing her boyfriend, matt. i knock on debs' door instead. she's not in
calls roo. oh, where's she gone then? i reply, walking into the
kitchen. research or something, think she's at the library. i suppose
you wouldn't know how strange that sounds if you didn't know debs. i
love her dearly , but she is the laziest person i have ever met and
when she's hung over, she's unbearable. is mike around? i asked. yeah,
he's up too, said roo, i think he's looking up porn on the internet or
something. roo doesn't like mike, she resents his bachelor-pad of a
room with its empty beer cans, overflowing ashtrays and pictures of
naked women. everyone else just laughs at him, but i think she gets
jealous because matt gets on so well with him. roo doesn't do
laddish.
alright love? mike serenades as i enter his room. not too bad i reply,
trying to be casual because if he knows how little i know, and how
frustrated that makes me, he will deny all knowledge of anything
because he's an evil bastard...did you have a good night then? i ask,
gingerly testing the waters. yeah, it was alright, but we went to bed
not long after you left; y'know, we're not as hardcore as you, mate.
ah, so i went somewhere without them...my heart leaps, but at the same
time my beer-bellied font of knowledge has proved to be of little use.
what about you? he asks. i shrug, noncommitantly. oh, i thought you
were dead chuffed when you left with that geezer. what geezer? what
geezer? my brain nags. well, y'know...is my less revealing answer. i
thought he was the one you were trying to pull though, that neil bloke
wasn't it? bingo- next stop neil's house. well, it was weird, i manage
as i get up, i'll tell you later, alright? seeyalater, and i close the
door on his confused yeah, see you then susi.
before long i am standing on neil's doorstep with the cords and tacky
t-shirt in a carrier bag by my side. well its obvious now, isn't it: i
had probably got paralytic, spilt a drink over myself or something and
he had to lend me some clothes. simple as that. maybe he dressed me.
maybe he undressed me...
maggie opens the door, and when she sees me, breaks into a smirk. oh i
heard about you last night she says. god, yeah, i agree, shaking my
head and looking appropriately ashamed. she calls for neil and there's
a faint down in a minute from upstairs. awkward silence. i can't
believe it though, she remarks, i mean, how embarrassing...and how did
you get back? luckily, i am saved from maggie's questioning by a pretty
rough-looking neil stumbling down. he seems surprised to find me at the
bottom of the stairs, and after what maggie has just said, this worries
me...i decide to wait for him to speak first.
alright mate? he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his
very intense blue eyes. yeah, i'm ok, i nod. can I talk to you? i
glance at maggie who is waiting around but she is impervious to the
hint. well, i'd invite you up but...well...he shuffles his feet in his
awkwardness and you can see the contours of his chest under his thin
t-shirt...i...um...pulled last night and...its a bit...inconvenient...i
smile. i should have thought; its sunday morning, of course neil would
have a girl in his room...he pulls every saturday night. i was just
hoping that somehow, this week, it might have been me. maggie finally
twigs the awkward atmosphere: oh, you can talk in my room, i'll just go
watch tv or something, and shuffles off in her fluffy slippers. i
follow neil into maggie's domain; soft toys and uni notes everywhere. i
brought back your stuff, i try, handing him the carrier bag. he looks
confused. you what? he says, glancing at the clothes. what are you on
about? these aren't mine. oh shit. now i've messed up my calm exterior.
i decide to take the plunge and be honest with him...
after i explain the situation he grins at me. his slight air of
annoyance has subsided, so obviously reminding me what i got up to is
worth delaying his shag-fest for. oh man, he says, this is
funny...
according to his story i was pretty bladdered when neil came round;
me, debs and mike had been playing the forfeit game: where your
housemates make you drink some vodka for every embarrassing and
socially unacceptable thing you've ever said or done. example: susi, i
sentence you to one shot for fancying barry manilow when you were
little. (i still maintain there's an amazing twinkle in his eyes when
he sings copacabana) out of the three of us, i, unsurprisingly, had
been the saddest and so when neil dropped round to see if anyone wanted
to go to the pub, i was just finishing off the bottle and ready for a
night of debauchery (plus, if neil ever actually bothers to come
around, i just can't refuse him the joy of my company.) so, we set off
with a few random accomplices and toured the local drinking
establishments. apparently i had been ok until we got to the firkin,
(if you disregard the parts when i was winking at the old men hanging
around one of the bars, and when i told alison that i didn't like her
because her eyebrows scared me). but it was at the firkin that i
decided to really go for it. i had mysteriously disappeared for about
half an hour, and neil was starting to get worried (he actually worried
about me...he's so wonderful)...and then i returned, staggering back
from the beer garden with only one heel on my favourite high heeled
boots. i made it to a few feet of the table but one of the floorboards
had been sticking up a bit and...
well, says neil, actually blushing...um, you landed with your face in
my...lap... nooooooooooooooooooooo says the voice of self-pride in my
head. wahey say my immoral demons...but self pride wins with the
persuasive thought that i've probably just ruined any chance of respect
this gorgeous man has for me. i try a hopeful no...i didn't, did
i?...but neil soon confirms the story...yeah, um...he continues...you
wouldn't move for ages, you...um...said you liked it there...oh god
this is so bad; i'm so sorry neil...neil shrugs. i almost feel as if
he's proud of it...more evidence of his sexual prowess, i suppose.
suddenly i have a terrible thought: god, i didn't do anything else did
i? he pauses...well...i'm not sure....'cause you went off somewhere and
then i started talking to this girl julie...and i figured you'd be all
right, i mean, the pub was about to shut and...well, someone said you'd
already left...so...he doesn't need to say any more...and i thought he
was caring! leaving me in that state! but i forget his loyalties live
in his pants...its alright...i say, sounding natural, calm, not
bothered...but you don't remember who i was with?...nah, he replies,
now looking bored with our conversation. well, fine, i think, let him
go back to this julie-tart. picking up the carrier-bag, i say my
goodbyes and leave, trying not to notice the tiny smile creases in the
corners of his deep brown eyes. bastard.
where now? i think, as i wander aimlessly down the high street. emilie
cycles past...hey, do you feel better now?, but is gone before i can
ask or answer anything. better than what? i want to scream...walking by
the shopping centre trying to avoid retail therapy, i see roo's matt
approaching...hi matt, i smile, but he doesn't seem to notice. lost in
his own little world, poor little spaceboy. matt is what is known as a
trekkie. roo's last valentine's card was written in klingon. forgive me
for being small minded but that's all you need to know... as i carry on
along the road, i can't help but think that people are staring at
me...why does everyone in the world seem to know what happened apart
from me?
suddenly I see jo. maybe fate has taken a hand; maybe there is a god
after all...jo is the unofficial gossip co-ordinator for the region,
she knows everything. I approach her from behind and greet her like a
long lost friend. jo! how aaaaaah you?...she turns. her face is in an
expression of rapture (albeit slightly hung over): sooooooooosi!
daaaahling! she crushes me in a bear hug which makes my stomach churn.
how aaaaah you? she continues, looking concerned...you weren't looking
too great last night; you weren't sick were you? luckily she doesn't
give me time to open my mouth, let alone speak...oh gosh, and did you
hear about ellie? poor girl was sick in carl's bath; well, I don't
blame her after snogging laurie, talk about geeks...and chris, well,
you know what he's like...i think he had about six girls, and it wasn't
as if the party was that amazing or anything...in fact I was really
surprised to see jo there at all, you know, jo leekes, i mean, you know
how funny she can be...its amazing how selective your hearing can be
when talking to jo, and i sifted through her little soundbites to
gather the important information...and even i was shocked at that
twister game, i mean, it was almost an orgy, and if i was hung like jon
beasley, i know i wouldn't want to display it that publicly; i think we
did well to keep out of there...but i lost you at the end, what
happened? one minute you were there in the smoking room with me, and
then i started talking to jake- he's soooo funny isn't he?- but then
you were gone...there is silence as she questioningly raises one
well-plucked eyebrow at me. i am not prepared for this immediate
silence and blush profusely. are you ok? she asks oh, i know what it
is...are you feeling embarrassed about the dancing? don't worry,
sweetie, no-one will remember it this morning; they were all really
drunk, and i mean, its not as if we haven't all done silly things is
it? i mean, i know i've done worse things than that, dancing on tables
is nothing. and i'm sure you have loads of new male admirers she tries,
scraping the barrel, trying to make me feel better i guess. and i think
everyone should be as liberated as you, i mean we wear bikinis, and a
bra is just the same as a bikini top...and there were worse things
going on last night than that, i mean, lucy was running around
covered...she carries on but i have switched off completely now. i
don't think i want to know any more. how can i face anyone i know ever
again with the knowledge that they've seen me dancing in my
underwear...and not just any underwear...with the virgoan talent for
only remembering useless things, i recall that yesterday i was wearing
my very unsexy granny-bra with extra support which has now faded to an
off-white in its ancientness. in fact, how could i stand here with
someone who had seen that and who, despite her reassurances that no-one
would remember the previous night's events, would do her best to remind
them and also pass on the information to all those people who had been
unfortunate enough not to have been there? i begin to shift
uncomfortably. she doesn't notice. oh stuff it, i'm going to
interrupt...um, jo, i've really got to be getting on now...she smiles
reassuringly...of course sweetie, i know what you mean, i've got soooo
many people to see today...but i'll see you later, ok? give me a call
sometime...you've still got my mobile number from last night haven't
you? ok, see you soon...byeeeee...and with that she was gone. i take
the crumpled piece of paper from my pocket carrying the previously
mysterious phone number. i seriously doubt i will be phoning that
two-faced cow ever again, so i chuck the note in the bin.
so i've reached an end. i can't possibly carry on looking to find out
what happened last night because i know everyone will be laughing at
me. i'm such an idiot. i'm never drinking again. i start to make my way
back home dejectedly. i think i'll go back to bed. forever.
wandering around the corner of the road i start getting a bit sniffly
at the thought of losing my boots and whatever else i was
wearing...after a bit of mental strain i realise that it was my
favourite skirt too...my misery sinks deeper...as i approach the front
door my thoughts have turned away from sleep and now to drinking...at
the doorstep there is a plastic bag and i push it with my foot to move
it until i see a gleam of red...closer inspection reveals that there on
the doorstep are my red satiny skirt, my boots (heel still separate,
but all parts present and correct), and my black shirt! i don't know
how to react...i glance around to see who has left them but there's
no-one around. god i feel so much better now...but who left them
here?
back in my room i take the stuff from the bag...suddenly my joy at
their return is somewhat diffused...these clothes stink! on closer
inspection it seems that they've been rinsed since whatever happened to
them last night but not properly washed; not cleaned enough to disguise
the fact that...oh dear...maybe i did chunder last night after all...i
remove the offending articles from the room and straight into the
washing machine...i can hear roo and matt outside talking about what
they're going to do this evening. god they're so boring, so married...i
go to examine my shoes. i expect they can be re-heeled...i try not to
think about the void in my mind which refuses to reveal exactly how i
broke them. i decide to get them sorted now, best to forget all about
last night and just get everything normal again.
as i'm walking down the road again, i'm beginning to feel sane again.
i take deep breaths of the warm summer air. i feel good. a pretty
good-looking bloke i think i recognise waves to me from the other side
of the street. yeah, i know mate, i'm gorgeous...i wave back and carry
on. i take the shoes into the menders...even the frowning expression of
the bloke behind the counter: oh dear, you've done a proper job there,
love, that's gonna cost you...doesn't spoil my mood and i cheerily hand
over the tenner he charges me. there's a strange bit of cardboard in my
purse as well and i look at it as i walk out of the shop...it has a
number on it and then says...jo's mobile...oh my god, then what was
the..?..i think i've made a terrible mistake...i think i'm going to
have to head back to the bin...
the wasps buzz around my fingers as i gingerly lift the banana skin
and a crumpled newspaper to retrieve my piece of paper. i stare at it,
willing it to reveal who gave it to me...where did it come from? i'm
sure it must have come from the same bloke who gave me his clothes and
dropped mine back at the doorstep- i should have asked the gruesome
twosome if anyone had called for me...then suddenly it clicks. that
bloke...the one who waved at me...i know where i've seen him before...i
was snogging him at the party! his name...his name was...james! oh my
god, that's it...this is his number! i look around desperately to see
if he's around...no sign...well, in that case there's only one thing to
do. i'm going to have to call him.
back home, as i'm about to pick up the phone, it rings and turns out
to be my friend louisa: how are you, honey? she asks. i was just
calling to see if you got home ok last night...yeah, i was fine, thanks
i reply, trying to be ambiguous, as i have no idea at which point of
the evening i saw her...oh thank goodness, she replies. i thought you
would be, i was just a bit worried you'd injure yourself on those
boots...i laugh; god i must have looked stupid hobbling along
lopsided...she continues: i can't believe you got yourself locked in,
though; and you're so lucky it was me in there, it would have been so
embarrassing if there had been a queue or something and everyone had
seen you wobbling up on the toilet bowl...gradually things began to
come together...i had managed to get stuck in the toilet, and when i
stood on the loo to ask for help, my boot had slipped and broken. it's
so lucky you didn't bump your head or anything though, she said...yeah,
i agree, thinking that if i'd knocked myself out i'd never have met
james...we chat for a while but i can't concentrate...i have to speak
to him...i make my excuses and say goodbye.
with the piece of paper in my left hand, my right hand shakes as i
dial the numbers (starting with an eight- i remember that he lives
nearby...) a gruff man's voice answers...is james there please? i
squeak. no james here...wrong number, he barks and hangs up. oh god
what am i doing? waves of doubt sweep over me. but hang on a
sec...maybe that 1 was a 7 after all...against all my better judgement
i try again...it rings for ages; maybe i should hang up, maybe he's
not...hello comes a male voice from the other end. um...hello...can i
speak to james please? i ask... yeah, um...hang on a sec, i'm not sure
if he's back yet...the bloke puts the receiver down and i hear a
muffled call: james?
...pause...phone for you...it's a bird...my hands are shaking
ridiculously now...oh why did he have to be in? hello? oh god that's
him...er...hi...i say, sounding really girly and awful: it's susi...i
met you last night...? oh yeah, hi! he says, enthusiastically, how are
you?...i'm fine, i reply, dumbfounded by his chirpiness. i saw you this
morning, didn't i? he continues, but i think you were in a hurry or
something...yeah, god, i'm so sorry about that, i was a bit surprised
to see you...and was on my way to meet someone and...i lie through my
teeth but it seems to work because he interrupts: oh, don't worry about
it...it was good to see you...there is a bit of an awkward silence...he
continues: um...in fact...i'd really like to see you again...if you'd
like? my insides are doing flips...yeah, yeah, i'd love to, i gush...we
arrange to meet up in the evening...and i can give you your clothes
back; thanks so much for lending them to me, i finish. there is a
pause...what? comes the puzzled reply.
suddenly i realise...they can't have been his clothes...he gave me his
phone number because he was leaving early...he must have left before i
was sick...i try desperately to cover it: oh no, sorry, i was thinking
of something else and...i got you mixed up...sorry...i'll see you at
eight then?...he seems to accept this dodgy excuse and says goodbye,
although he sounds a little confused. the phone clicks down and i am
left holding a buzzing receiver wondering who on earth gave me their
clothes...i must have gone to someone else's house because they're not
nearly big enough for carl...but whose?
i gradually realise how tired i am, and a quick glance in the hall
mirror reveals how completely knackered i look. omigod i have a date
tonight...i decide on a few hours sleep, just through the afternoon so
i'll be fresh in the evening...
snuggled in my sheets again i am so pleased to know most of the
previous evenings events...if the person who left my clothes wants to
be mysterious, then fine...i'll keep their clothes; the trousers are
actually pretty nice. i drift off...
when i wake, its dark and something is not quite right. i feel an
incredible sense of someone standing over me...i look up to see a
klingon looming over me, glaring ferociously. omigod! i sit up with a
jolt...but there's nothing there...i have an immense sense of d?ja-vu
and then...i start to remember...the first time i woke up that morning
it had been about three o' clock and the same thing had happened, but
when i sat up it hadn't gone away...instead, it was a life-size
cardboard figure...the room had smelt funny and when i looked beside
me...i gradually realised who had found me in carl's garden puking my
guts up, the same person who had brought me back to his house and given
me clean clothes...who had, who i had...oh god! i can hear his voice
downstairs, talking with roo in the kitchen. the same feeling creeps
over me that i had earlier, once i'd realised what i'd done, but at
least then i was able to run, escape from it to come home and sleep,
sweetly oblivious...oh god why did i have to remember?
i sit on the end of my bed and even the thought of going out with
james can't take away the shuddery feeling. i don't think i'll be
drinking tonight.