It Began and Ended with Alcohol by Emer Timony-Nolan
It began and ended with alcohol. One night she is out, accompanied by a friend with a reputation as a cock- tease and two Americans attracted to each girl respectively. The girls first go to a gig (obliged to of course), leaving the Americans to wait in a pub on a corner. Charm-eyed with drink she bumps into him in the crowd, smiles upwards at his easy good looks. Brief small talk. An embrace; merely a warm drunken goodbye. An invitation to a dance brings her to a pre-dance excuse to drink cheaply in his house. His parents moving at the edges of the party, a room put aside for the girls to dress in. She does not know this. In the small bathroom she zips her shining fishtail skirt, smooth in the thighs, and brushes water into her hair the better to pin it up. Striking out into the hall in search of a pencil sharpener he appears at the top of the stairs. His surprise as he takes her in makes her cheeks flush. Early, early hours of the morning. Those who’ve made it as far as closing time have reassembled to a flat on Jervis St. Exhausted with dancing members of the group are one by one fading to sleep. She sits awkwardly on the floor, irritadedly waiting for the first bus. Sitting long-legged on the sofa he murmurs cajoles her to sit on his lap. I must look like a corpse Christ he’s drunk as I’ve seen him. He part-rambles part- flatters -You look really good tonight. -It’s make-up. -You always look this good. They walk in an unexpected quiet down to her bus stop, the looks of the morning commuters at their early overdressedness not amusing, adding to their unsurety. A kiss on the cheek as the bus pulls up. She thinks. In the pull-away of his one-armed hug, a barely perceptible flutter. Two months pass. A birthday party. They are easy together this time; after all nothing has happened between them. They become closer as the night grows hazy, until their conversation is a dialogue. Ensconced in the dark red black candled cellar of the bar they kiss. She is very drunk. So is he. He kisses her off at the nightlink. The following evening a going-away party, this time in a house. She’s tense. Far too tense. The ease has gone yet the attraction remains. Alcohol soothes her agitation but a joint breaks the camel’s back. Conversation is beyond her. She leans beside him, wishing the earth to swallow her up. The room quiet, dark, a blanket found behind a sofa. Slowly, by degrees, they move from being under halves of the same blanket until she is curled on his chest. At some stage he has shifted upwards and she is on her back; his hand plays over her breast but no real attempt is made, as far as she can see. There are still other people in the room. As he slides into sleep she is slid into overhanging the floor. Extracting herself from his deadweight arm she tugs her skirt from under his hip. She has nowhere to go. It’s cold. Curling in the space at the end of the sofa where his legs have slid away she lays her face on his hip and falls asleep. Awakens to a hand stroking her hair, the side of her cheek. She crawls up his body and his lips meet hers. She’s never seen a smile so warm. The tension is overwhelming; whether he wants her to remain there, head on his shoulder, as the house arises. False cockiness rules her speech. Heads pop in the doorway confused; who is he talking to? It takes a moment to see her smaller form pushed in at his side. She goes to leave, pure confidence. –I’ll walk you to the door. They reach the door. She looks at him expectant. -Would you wait a minute? I’ll get my shoes.” They walk with arms around each other. Her heart dances. She sees him to his bus stop; she has further things to do in town. Both will be travelling. “Will I see you there?” he hopes. But she knows their dates don’t overlap. Another two months, but this time he has played a constant refrain in her head. She has been home for two days when a text arrives on her phone. She knows it is him. She refuses to let herself believe so until she receives confirmation of the number. Filled with dread she dresses up. Knows she’s trying too hard. The text made it clear that there are others. A group outing. But it stated in casual terms that he’d heard she was back and would she like to go out? Written to her, not a text to everybody. She arrives drained. Takes to Baileys coffees to keep her eyes open. Talks about herself foolishly, even in the light of his obvious uncertainty. Drunk more with tiredness than anything else she nudges at him when he offers to walk her. Waiting for the man to turn green she turns and bites him, hard, on the chest. His alarm allows him only a single kiss – she’s gone enough to be left leaning forwards like an idiot – before he bundles her onto the bus. Their next meeting is much more reserved. She does not drink. They manage to converse easily. When she soberly moves to leave there is merely a nod and a goodbye. At the next party there is barely a frisson. Outwardly. She aches and acts jovial. Another man keeps feeling her leg. She escapes upstairs to bed and is followed. The man is doing nothing wrong, lying across the bed, being suggestive. When she moves away he pulls her by the wrist towards him, painfully. She escapes back down to the kitchen. He looks to her as she comes in. “What’s up?” he asks amicably. “Nothing” she answers, the words a strangle from her throat. In the morning she gathers herself to leave, firstly watching him play a game. When it’s over she rises to head. So does he. She stands paralysed as to whether now, for her to state that she is leaving directly after he has done so, is too obvious. He asks her is she getting the dart. “Yes” she automatically answers. Had she been functioning she would have answered, but from two stops away, she has things to drop off. She explains this when she has left the house. When they’re outside on the footpath.The two metres between them contains an invisible yet deadly abyss, and neither can step forward. They turn from each other and leave. At their final meeting he barely registers. She is the belle of the fancy dress. She drinks, and drinks, and sleeps. In the morning he is gone. She drinks, and drinks, and in the morning he is gone.