Girls and Boy

Girls and Boy

It starts innocently enough. Sophie walks over; she talks. I watch her
mouth moving, but the music's too loud and I can't hear her. I lean
down; I still can't hear her. She carries on talking. I guess at what
she's saying. It's something about liking my shirt. I look down at my
shirt. I look back up and she's staring into my eyes. I stare into
hers. She has cat's eyes - one green, one blue. I think about whether
it's a natural defect or the work of designer contact lenses. I spend
too long on this thought. She kisses me. I'm genuinely surprised and
step back. She follows and kisses me again. I don't move. She's still
kissing me. I begin to kiss back. I think I'm enjoying it. I know she's
enjoying it. I think about her eyes. I look into her eyes. I close my
eyes. I think of&;#8230; Lucy.

I edge back and Sophie immediately falls to the ground, taking two of
my shirt buttons and an empty pint glass with her. A gaggle of
concerned/nosy people rush over. It probably looks like quite a bad
fall. It probably is quite a bad fall, but it doesn't really matter.
The sheer volume of toxic liquid inside her would virtually paralyse
any nerve endings; she wouldn't feel a thing. At worst, there could be
mild bruising when she wakes up in the morning. But I'll be long gone
by then. Besides, It's not like I've pushed her or anything. You take
the support away - the sapling falls down. The same logic can easily be
applied here.

Then, like a bad TV movie (there are some goods ones), just as Sophie's
face drops down out of extreme close-up, another comes slowly into
focus in the background. The image sharpens and I realise to my horror
that it's Amy. This makes me think of Lucy again, only this time for
entirely different reasons. Amy and I have been involved in a, as yet,
even race to win the coveted title of being Lucy's flat-mate. Lucy has
been stuck for a decision up until now, with me as the boyfriend and
Amy as the best friend, both making strong potential suitors. However,
if Amy has seen what's just happened with Sophie and me, she now has
the perfect block for me to stumble over - before I even get a whiff of
the finishing line. I look over to try and ascertain whether she has
seen or not, but there are too many people walking past for me to get a
clear enough view. I decide that I can't risk it; I have to speak to
Lucy and find out. If she knows; she'll tell, and if she tells; I'll
know.

I make my excuses to my friends and begin to move forward. They are all
in perpetual states of hysterics, mocking my situation as I try to
explain it to them:

"It just happened" I tell them, quite convincingly. "One thing lead to
another and&;#8230;" they are not listening, they are just laughing.
This makes me realise that I don't actually like any of them anyway.
They are not my friends. I make my excuses to some bunch of pissed
wankers I vaguely recall from my youth, and begin to move
forward.

Although I've had a bit to drink, I am relatively sober. My brain
appears to be functioning with up to at least 90\% of its potential. So
I paste on my best apologetically squirming face and begin to walk over
to Amy. I am therefore very surprised when I find that I can't actually
do it. The command of placing one foot in front of the other that I am
processing in my head doesn't seem to be making the long journey down
to the desired spot on the ends of my legs. I look down and immediately
find the problem; it is Sophie. She is still sprawled on the floor, her
arms are wrapped tight around my shins and her head is rubbing gently
against my thigh. At this angle, she does look quite like Lucy - but
she looks more like a kitten pestering for food. Sadly, she doesn't
weigh like one. I prize one leg free from her clutches and proceed to
drag her slowly across the sticky floor. Unfortunately, for every heave
I make forward, Amy seems to skip ten more ahead. I begin to feel like
a tranquillised hippopotamus with its foot stuck in a swamp, trying to
catch a particularly nimble dragonfly. Amy is leaving the bar. I have
to stop her.

I lean down and untangle the rest of Sophie from my legs. I presume she
isn't actually dead but the effort involved in tearing her body away
from mine suggests that maybe rigor mortis is beginning to set in. I
break her free and position her upright on the floor. She stares
straight ahead. Luckily, the increasingly populated bar is now
producing an uncomfortable amount of thick heat that begins to melt
Sophie's rigidity into a more pliable mass. I seize this opportunity
and pick her up in a single clean lift. Although the stiffness has
subsided, the surprising weight remains and so for a few seconds I
battle to keep her in my arms as she slips in and out like linguine
through an overused colander. Eventually we both come to a compromise.
She slings an arm around my shoulder for support while I apply gentle
pressure from my knee into her backside. I continue to do so at regular
intervals and this provides an acceptable level of forward motion,
propelling us out of the bar and into the street.

"Amy! Amy, wait! I need to speak to you", I shout breathlessly, but it
is no good. I stand and watch in horror, Sophie dangling limply around
me, as Amy closes the door of a black cab and begins to pull away. I
look behind me but there are no more cabs to follow. I begin to feel
dizzy from the strain of Sophie, so I prop her up by the side of the
bar entrance and run up the street. Desperation propels my body forward
and before I even realise it, I have reached the train station taxi
rank and I am climbing inside a cab, giving directions.

The cab stops outside the bar entrance and I swing open the door to see
Sophie employing her hungry kitten routine on one of the bouncers. It
seems to be working this time, maybe a little too well. The shaven
headed hulk of Creatine and steroids is making the most of things and
gradually moving her head further up his leg.

"C'mon Sophie, time we were going", I say, walking towards her.

"Ha, ha, ha..... gnmmphh.... ha, hic!", she kind of replies.

"I think she's alright where she is", bellows the bouncer in his best
"I've got inordinately large testicles" voice.

"Sorry mate, but she's coming with me" I say, surprisingly confidently,
"I don't think she's feeling too good". I bend down to Sophie and
prepare for the long struggle to release her. I look up at the bouncer
and smile. The bouncer looks down at me, and glares. We are obviously
not getting along, so it is with great relief that she seems happy to
let go and fall back into my arms. I stand up, dragging Sophie along
with me and swinging her arm around my waist. I momentarily feel a
surge of Hollywood action man strength.

"Listen pal" I begin to say to the bouncer, "You're just going to have
to find some..." my voice trails off as both he and I began to realise
what I am doing. He is Mr. T; at best I am Woody Allen. This is not
going to be an even fight and I have a sneaking suspicion that he
doesn't hold the Queensbury rules in particularly high regard. I smile
meekly, turn around and run into the cab, taking Sophie along with me.
I yell to the driver to drive, and he obliges. Where the driver is to
drive to, neither he, nor I know, as I realise I have definitely missed
my "follow that cab" cue by now.

I sit back and try to think. It's not too late in the evening for Amy
to have gone straight round to Lucy's and if she has, she'll almost
certainly be there by now. However, She won't want to come straight out
with it in case it upsets Lucy too much and she decides she needs to be
on her own. She'll probably be making her a cup of coffee and engaging
in some meaningless chatter, biding her time until the right moment
arrives. I figure that at present speed, we have just enough time to
drive to Sophie's parents, drop her off and then race round to Lucy's
before Amy has a chance to dish the dirt.

This realisation contents me and I turn and face Sophie to share a
little of my satisfaction. I soon notice however, that her head is now
draped down into my lap. I look down at her and sigh. Her freshly
bleached hair is sprawled across my legs, shining unnaturally in the
dim interior lighting of the cab. Although a different colour from
Lucy's, I recognise the soft thickness of the strands below me. I begin
to stroke them - I am stroking her hair and it feels as though I've
done it a million times before. Sophie looks up at me, gurgles and
spreads a wide innocent smile that stretches the length of her face. I
move my hand away and turn to look out of the window. Nothing interests
me out of the window. I look back down and offer a vague grin in return
for the beaming smile, but somehow, it just doesn't compete. That is
some smile.

Or maybe it's just a pre-emptive apology. The smile quickly spreads
into a trembling oval, her eyes squint shut and then, out it flows.
Waves of luminous green and yellow, leaping straight from her retching
mouth and on to the window behind the driver's head. It is testament to
the sheer power of the sugar in what ever Sophie has been drinking that
the vomit manages to remain stuck there for a good few seconds. I am
almost in awe as I sit staring at the incredible density and range of
colours on display. This wonder is sadly, very short lived, as the
driver slams on the brakes, bringing the cab to an abrupt stop and
splashing shakes of vomit into my lap.

"I'm really sorry mate, really I am. I'll pay for any damages", I am
pleading with the taxi driver, but it is no use. We are left sitting on
the pavement as our chariot races off into the night. I have had
enough. I turn around to face Sophie, abuse ready to spew from my mouth
in even bigger gushes than her ocean of sick, but then suddenly, I dry
up. All thoughts of vengeance exit my head and all I can see is this
little girl sitting next to me, shivering, with her head wedged deep
between her legs. All I want to do is put my arm around her. By rights
I should follow it up by tightening the grip into some form of
strangulation, but I don't. I just want to sit here and hold her.

The area is residential. There are no more taxis. There is no more
time. I begin to pick Sophie up but the sickness has sobered her and
she stands of her own accord, albeit slow and unsteady. I resolve to
bypass the first part of my plan (probably just as well - how could I
have explained things to her parents?) and move straight onto the
journey to Lucy's. Unfortunately, I now have an unexpected companion.
Unexpected, but not unwanted. As we walk down the street, I spend my
time flitting between thinking of a plausible excuse to tell Lucy, and
simply watching Sophie from the corner of my eye. My thoughts stay with
Lucy but everything else is centered on Sophie. Maybe I'm only thinking
about Lucy because of the similarities I can see of her in Sophie. By
the time we reach Lucy's house, the formulation of my excuse has not
progressed at all, and I am in fact just staring constantly at
Sophie.

I am abruptly snapped out of my daze by the sound of a female voice
shouting my name. Although it sounds like Sophie, it isn't - so I turn
away from her and look around. Lucy is standing in the doorway of her
house; she has her arms folded and is glaring in my direction. I can't
think of anything to do, so I stand and do nothing. She leaves her
doorway and walks swiftly over to Sophie - who is now listlessly
propping herself up against my shoulder - and me. I feel numb. I wait
calmly for the inevitable:

(It doesn't come) "Sophie, you're drunk again aren't you?" says Lucy,
pulling Sophie away from my shoulder. "Dad's going to kill you!" I stay
motionless and watch in bewilderment as Lucy drags her sister back up
to the house. She reaches the doorway, stops and turns round to face
me.

"I suppose you found her in the pub, did you?" she asks, "thanks for
bringing her here and not round to Mum and Dad's."

"It's Ok, no problem", I say painfully slowly as I try to comprehend my
luck. Lucy pulls Sophie into the house and gestures for me to follow.
With my good fortune beginning to sink in, I find a spring in my step
and bounce up to join them.

However, the limits of my suspension are soon reveled the moment I step
through the front door; Amy is there. She is standing, and wearing a
coat and shoes. I presume she has only just arrived. Maybe I hadn't
found a four-leaf clover after all. Lucy deposits Sophie in the kitchen
and walks back into the front room, next to Amy. I listen to the
familiar sound of Sophie vomiting, coupled with a metallic echo
suggesting it be into the kitchen sink, and wait for the
inevitable:

(But again, it doesn't come.) "It's Ok Amy", says Lucy, "you might as
well take your coat off - we don't need to look for her now." I can't
help but let a smile melt across my otherwise frozen face. Lucy takes
Amy's coat from her. We all sit down, me next to Lucy and Amy opposite
her.

"It's so lucky that you bumped into Sophie"; Lucy turns and says to me.
"I really am grateful. Amy says she thought she saw her in the pub
earlier, but she wasn't sure; we were going to go and look for
her."

I look across at Amy and she is projecting a truly evil glare in my
direction. Normally this would bother me, but as the reason for it
could have been a whole lot worse, it fails to break my smile. I have
beaten her in a race I didn't even know I was competing in - the quest
to find the wayward sister. She has fallen at the final hurdle; I'm a
dead cert to become Lucy's flat mate. I struggle to comprehend the turn
of events - I've got away with it; I have got away with everything.
Then Sophie walks back into the room. Then I stop struggling.

Sophie slumps down into an armchair, away from all of us. I look over
at her. She tucks her legs in underneath her body and rests her head
against a pillow. Her eyes are red and blotchy, her clothes are covered
in sick and her blonde hair is matted together with sweat. She looks
adorable. I feel Lucy put her arm around me; I continue to look over at
Sophie. I can sense Amy still glaring at me; I continue to look over at
Sophie. Lucy begins to speak to me - she tells me again how grateful
she is, how she's really worried about Sophie's drinking and asks
whether all this has spoilt my night - I say nothing and continue to
look over at Sophie. She lifts her head and looks over at me. She
smiles. She looks like an angel. I smile back; this time it competes. I
suddenly feel sick. I turn round to Lucy and say: