Sophie's Throughway by Jules Smith

piles of clothes waiting to be pressed. ‘Sham, drudgery and broken dreams’ the line from the Desiderata poem hanging on the utility wall jumped out at me as the iron hissed to life in my hand. Now my clean house was full of teenage boys who would no doubt, just make it messy again. I pulled a t-shirt from the pile and flattened it out on the ironing board, making a start on my Saturday afternoon’s entertainment.
    I’m probably the only person on the planet who looks forward to Mondays, I thought.
    My weekends were a succession of patience, persistence and perspiration with what seemed like very little reward. The daytime of domesticity rolled into evening and hoards of teenagers ran amok in my space. I went to the living room and shut the door to hide away the raucous behaviour that was aggravating my spirit. Oh for one day of peace. Just one.
    My friend Lisa kept texting me, insisting that I come to her party but I continued refusing with various excuses. I just couldn’t face getting trussed up and having to pretend to like people, particularly since she had said there was someone going she’d like me to meet and had told them all about me. Ugh. No. That would mean I’dhave to be super pleasant and charming as well as go steady on the wine. Where was the fun it that?
    â€œBut you’ll really like him. He’s gorgeous and witty and everything you like!” she enthused. “And I just KNOW he’ll love you.”
    Pressure. No thanks. Every day living was enough for me right now without taking on the possible awkward, first steps of romance.
    Earlier, when I’d made it half way through the ironing pile, Brendon had thrown a DVD over to me saying, “Here, watch this. Now there’s a drug that should be invented.” Before I could react, he’d then chucked an opened packet of chocolates at me with one remaining, sweaty sweet: the last one in a tube of Rolo’s. Despite being annoyed with him I’d had to smile. Ever since being a little boy he’d always saved me his last chocolate because the Nestle advert on the telly had said, “Do you love anyone enough to give them your last Rolo? ” I found it heart warming that he still did it, like it was a lifelong tradition.
    I spent the following two hours on the sofa with my iPad reading the links that he’d sent me about the benefits of marijuana. I had to admit that I found the ‘Amazing Atheist’ an entertaining chap. I then sourced my own information on the long term, nasty side effects that I emailed back to him. I could not get into a discussion with Brendon unless I’d gone through everything on both sides of the argument or he wouldn’t even entertain it. Not that he was likely to listen anyway.
    After I’d finished my extensive research I clicked onword and saw that ‘The Voice’ had started a new game as promised. Round two. I smiled. I accepted the request and saw that he’d placed a seven letter word and got himself a bingo to boot scoring seventy points. I hated it when that happened because it meant that you were way behind before you’d even started. Not that it mattered in this case. Whilst I still wanted a good game, the play here had become more about the chat bubbles than the score.
    THE VOICE: I think this game might be more challenging for you than the last.
    I didn’t doubt it. And on more than one level. I played a reasonable 20 pointer.
    SOPHISTICATION: You have a fair chance of winning but it is early days, my friend.
    I decided I’d look at the film that Brendon had thrown in my direction. Limitless. Hmm. A bit like my patience. I read the back of the DVD cover: ‘A writer discovers a top secret drug which bestows him with super human abilities.’ Starring Bradley cooper, Robert De Niro and Abbie Cornish. Yes. That did sound like an interesting drug. I could sure use some super human abilities right about now. I put the