Art night out, soup, surprisingly good. Liquid refuse because I hesitate
with my date of birth, I want to tell them “Its not because I don’t know it, it’s because I’m slightly DRUNK”.
Slains. Pride. Gluttony. Gluttony. Gluttony. Megan and me on union street in heels, texting. He offers for me to get a taxi to his and I can pay him back later. Espionage. A creepy man takes me to the dancefloor from my seat and I find Cara. I am not shy of dancing, every song is one I know. Kirstie shoves a Bacardi into my hand, I feel bad because I have no money.
Texting Guy, he is too nice for me, and I tell him this, mention my catholic guilt, selfishness and he says something lovely about me. Cara sitting on the toilet floor phoning Hance and trying to get someone to take her for pain au chocolat. Megan and me being waylaid by dentists who want directions to a casino. They ask about our boyfriends and it hits me that Guy is my boyfriend. We're together now. A couple. We get called to the taxi, drop off kirstie and megan and Cara gets out with me.
Comes sits in my kitchen (everyone ends up in my kitchen in the middle of the night at some point) and pesters Pete till I feel sorry for him. I text Guy, and he arrives just as Cara goes. We take her out to meet Pete and she wants to go to Tesco, he ends up carrying her away.
Guy and me fall asleep on the kitchen table chair, I’m sitting on his lap, his head against my neck, cradled, and I feel oddly like the child and the mother both at once, because he carries everything including me, all the time and in this moment I carry him. In this moment he is fragile, or at least it feels like it, he is at the end of everything. It occurs to me he is maybe unaware of this moment of clarity and meaning, it’s significance, he could even be asleep.
When I make him stand up and come to the garage, his eyes are almost closed but he still manages to lift me up to prove his point that its his brain that’s tired, not body. Goodnight.
I crumple into bed.
