Almost. Too busy looking at the floor, rather than where I was headed. I
breathe deep, somewhat in shock. I feel my face go beetroot-blush. I spin
round to face Benny who’s looking flush too.
He’s glaring at me. I’m now holding back tears with
all the will I have in me. I don’t, I can’t say anything. He looks at me a
little longer wide-eyed. I stare right back at him. I don’t know how many
seconds pass until he speaks. “You know what, you’re right... It’s over.” And
suddenly, powerfully, he yanks the remains of my burger out of my hands and
hurls it onto the floor, wrapper and all, at my feet. It splatters into a mess
on the road. I look down and see little squares of onion on my boots. Ketchup
splattered right up the hem of my jeans. He just stares at the road then turns
on his trainers, the sound of the street gravel grinding beneath. He jogs into
the distance and turns the corner. He is gone.
6
Getting Home
It
has now gone half past weekend. It’s late. It’s very dark. Friendless I
stand in the alley, waiting for him, hoping he does, hoping doesn’t come back. I
really believe he will at first. Part of me wants him. He will come back,
surely. He’s not going to leave me all on my own here now, is he? Suddenly within,
a tiny seed of fear sprouts into a little shoot of panic. I don’t know where I
am. I don’t think I have a choice. I have to go back to the club. I need to do
something fast before I get into any more trouble.
First
I count down a few seconds slowly. Ten, nine, eight, seven. Six, five, four.
Three, two, one. Zero. I hear shuffling noises towards the end of the alley. I’m
blocked in. I draw back against the dark wall. A jolt of adrenalin turns the
shoot into a little tree inside me. I shake a little as I hide. I wait a
little longer. Thankfully the noise passes. There’s still a tiny subatomic particle
somewhere in me that dares to hope His Royal Highnesswill come to find
me. Though the only reason I want him back now is so that I’m not alone, and
safe.
Now
the alley is quiet, I’m still full of fear. I’m not soft, but this is
dangerous. The twisted side of me maybe even wants something bad to happen, not
too bad. But how awful would it make Benny feel. How bad! I realise standing
still is not doing much for my soul right now. Doing nothing is never good for
the soul. My brain signals for my feet to start moving and I begin the same
slow crunching steps that Benny started what must be at least five minutes ago,
except I can hear my steps are slower.
As
I turn the corner the familiar lights and buildings face me. I don’t know exactly
where I am but I don’t feel lost. I never feel lost in London. I check the
time and it’s just past 2:00am. I think the bar where we were should still be
open or people will be leaving now. If I go there, I may have half a chance of
getting a genuine cab, not just some chancer in a dented saloon riddled with
rust and body odour, that to my own admission, I have been in the past all too
familiar with. But I may have a problem. I look in my wallet. I have less
than five pounds left, just coins.
As I approach the bright lights and bustle outside the
club it doesn’t feel right. I still feel scared, panic rising. The skinny
sapling is now a mighty oak. It’s hard to breathe. I’ve never gone alone into
a club before, in all the times I have been clubbing, not even to a bar. Even
if I’ve started out alone, I’ve always met someone first or waited round the
corner or at a bus stop smoking until I know I’m so late whoever I’m meeting
will be there. This is new. I’m scared but obviously I try not to show it. I
think familiarity may be the key so I look for Lee. I see him there still with
the other doormen who all now look brutal. One I see is toying with an
extendable kosh in his pocket. The
breathe deep, somewhat in shock. I feel my face go beetroot-blush. I spin
round to face Benny who’s looking flush too.
He’s glaring at me. I’m now holding back tears with
all the will I have in me. I don’t, I can’t say anything. He looks at me a
little longer wide-eyed. I stare right back at him. I don’t know how many
seconds pass until he speaks. “You know what, you’re right... It’s over.” And
suddenly, powerfully, he yanks the remains of my burger out of my hands and
hurls it onto the floor, wrapper and all, at my feet. It splatters into a mess
on the road. I look down and see little squares of onion on my boots. Ketchup
splattered right up the hem of my jeans. He just stares at the road then turns
on his trainers, the sound of the street gravel grinding beneath. He jogs into
the distance and turns the corner. He is gone.
6
Getting Home
It
has now gone half past weekend. It’s late. It’s very dark. Friendless I
stand in the alley, waiting for him, hoping he does, hoping doesn’t come back. I
really believe he will at first. Part of me wants him. He will come back,
surely. He’s not going to leave me all on my own here now, is he? Suddenly within,
a tiny seed of fear sprouts into a little shoot of panic. I don’t know where I
am. I don’t think I have a choice. I have to go back to the club. I need to do
something fast before I get into any more trouble.
First
I count down a few seconds slowly. Ten, nine, eight, seven. Six, five, four.
Three, two, one. Zero. I hear shuffling noises towards the end of the alley. I’m
blocked in. I draw back against the dark wall. A jolt of adrenalin turns the
shoot into a little tree inside me. I shake a little as I hide. I wait a
little longer. Thankfully the noise passes. There’s still a tiny subatomic particle
somewhere in me that dares to hope His Royal Highnesswill come to find
me. Though the only reason I want him back now is so that I’m not alone, and
safe.
Now
the alley is quiet, I’m still full of fear. I’m not soft, but this is
dangerous. The twisted side of me maybe even wants something bad to happen, not
too bad. But how awful would it make Benny feel. How bad! I realise standing
still is not doing much for my soul right now. Doing nothing is never good for
the soul. My brain signals for my feet to start moving and I begin the same
slow crunching steps that Benny started what must be at least five minutes ago,
except I can hear my steps are slower.
As
I turn the corner the familiar lights and buildings face me. I don’t know exactly
where I am but I don’t feel lost. I never feel lost in London. I check the
time and it’s just past 2:00am. I think the bar where we were should still be
open or people will be leaving now. If I go there, I may have half a chance of
getting a genuine cab, not just some chancer in a dented saloon riddled with
rust and body odour, that to my own admission, I have been in the past all too
familiar with. But I may have a problem. I look in my wallet. I have less
than five pounds left, just coins.
As I approach the bright lights and bustle outside the
club it doesn’t feel right. I still feel scared, panic rising. The skinny
sapling is now a mighty oak. It’s hard to breathe. I’ve never gone alone into
a club before, in all the times I have been clubbing, not even to a bar. Even
if I’ve started out alone, I’ve always met someone first or waited round the
corner or at a bus stop smoking until I know I’m so late whoever I’m meeting
will be there. This is new. I’m scared but obviously I try not to show it. I
think familiarity may be the key so I look for Lee. I see him there still with
the other doormen who all now look brutal. One I see is toying with an
extendable kosh in his pocket. The
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