part one
The two friends were sitting in Busaras, Dublin�s bus station, waiting for the bus back to Belfast. They had found two red plastic chairs facing the entrance. The waiting area was full of people on their way somewhere else. It was run down, but nice all the same. The seat next to the brunette was occupied by an elderly woman surrounded by bags, evidence of a shopping trip. A few moments ago it had been occupied by two girls barely in their teens. They must have been sisters; it was something about the way they acted towards each other.
The blonde pulled out the note from her back pocket. She looked at it, read it again and smiled. She knew it by heart; after all it was just a note.
But it was the first note of this kind she could remember being given, and to her it was special.
The brunette looked at her friend.
-Are you going to e-mail him?
-I might, the blonde replied, her voice turning all mysterious and pulling her hair in front of her face.
-Don�t get your hopes up, he was wearing a ring.
-I know, I know. But would you have written a note like this if you were in a relationship?
The brunette just rolled her eyes at the blonde. It would be another thirty minutes before their bus would depart. The blonde rummaged around in her backpack and pulled out her walkman.
-Do you mind if I put my headphones on? My mind could use the rest.
-No, go ahead. Just make sure we don�t miss our bus.
--
The note was pinned to a notice board in her small dorm room. She dropped her bag at the door and kicked off her boots, turned the radio on and sat down at her desk. Well, there wasn�t really a lot of choice if you wanted to sit down in her room. There was the bed and the desk chair. And the floor, but the carpet needed cleaning. If it was up to the blonde carpets everywhere would be replaced by floorboards. Or even plastic, just some surface that didn�t absorb everything the way the carpet did. Tea, her best moisturiser and water from the sink had all mysteriously disappeared into the carpet without a trace. God only knows what else there is in this carpet, she thought. Then she reminded herself not to ask questions she didn�t really want the answers to.
She toyed with the idea of actually sending Darren an e-mail, or maybe a text message. She scribbled his e-mail on her notepad, and then she opened her textbook.
The next day she was working at a computer in the library when she felt an urge to send Darren an e-mail. Oh, what the hell, she thought and logged into her e-mail account.
When she was satisfied with what she had written she hit the send button. Now there was no turning back. All she had to do was wait for his reply. The trouble was, the blonde had never been one for patience.
An hour later and there was still no reply. She had run out of web pages to browse, and she was only lingering at the computer to see what he replied. Her back was beginning to ache, and the bad air quality in the computer lab made her dizzy. And she was beginning to feel a bit pathetic. Waiting by the computer was just as bad as waiting by the phone, and this was not acceptable behaviour for a modern, independent woman. She promised herself that this was the last time she would check her inbox before going home.
She got the phone from her pocket and decided to text him. Now all she had to do was think of something witty to write. Yeah, no problem. Easy. After several deleted attempts, a few of them not deliberate; she settled for a simple �check your inbox�. Short and attention grabbing. The reply came faster than she had expected.
�Why? What�s happening?�
It was obvious that he had no clue what was going on. Before she could reply her phone beeped again. Message number two read; �And who is this?�
Ok, so he wasn�t sitting by the phone waiting for her to call. He was obviously a modern, independent man. Oh wait, those rules didn�t apply to men. Or was he just playing it cool? Stupid modern relationship games!
Anticipation/Fast Forward, part two
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