Storied By Josh

The leaves finally had started to turn their proper color. The nakedness of the trees was merely gone. Summer would be here soon and the cold mistress of the snow, winter would be but a memory. Until it came back. It didn’t matter.

She stared at the trees thought the window and thought beautiful things for them, until she had run out of anything to think and the trees began to spin with the room a little. She tried to stand up but immediately lost her balance and sat back down.

The empty pint sized glasses formed a temporary collection of pride around her. Her hand finally didn’t shake now. She wiped her greasy mouth and chin with a napkin.
“Look, mate I think that’s well good.” The bartender said when she called for another.
“If I ain’t causing trouble, I can drink.” She replied.
“No, I think that’s enough.” The bartender said.
“I’ll sit here for a bit then.”
“You’ve earned it.” The bartender turned toward another customer.

She sat there for a little bit, breathing alcohol over her glasses and thinking nothing in particular.
“Call Jimmy for me.” She said.
“Already done.” The bartender replied. He walked over to remove her glasses. She grabbed his hand as he reached out. He shook it off.
“You know it’s a crime to be drunk in here.” He said to her.
“Ah hell.”
He laughed at her while he cleared her table.

She was resting her head on the table when Jimmy walked in with the glow and aura of an angel. You’re an angel she thought to herself. You’re here to rescue me and no one else ever does and I’m gonna be sick. So you’re here.
“Took you long enough.” She said to him.
“It’s late.” He looked down at her with a smile that was closer to a frown than anything.
“Is Peter good?”
“He’s furious at me.”
“He’s a bitch.”
“He has a meeting at six tomorrow and I woke him up when I got out of bed.” Jimmy reached down and pulled her up. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?” She drunkenly hung off his shoulder.
“Ah shit no. I quit.”
“Like hell.”
“Oi!” The bartender as they reached the door. “She hasn’t paid her full bill yet.”
“Get you back tomorrow?” Jimmy asked.
The bartender shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Jimmy pushed past the door and she told him to stop just outside.
“I’m going to be sick” She said and turned toward the building. Her vomit was mostly beer.
“Oh dear god, have you not been eating?”
“What?” She asked.
“That,” Jimmy motioned to the mess on the concrete. “smells like a fucking brewery.”
“I like to drink my meals.”
“Christ. You’re not staying alone tonight.”
“Are you gonna stay with me?”
Jimmy put her in the car. He pulled out his mobile and called Peter. She could see him and hear the muffled conversation outside of the car. “I’m sorry hun.” He looked at her through the windshield and smiled. “She’s a right mess. Brilliant. I love you too.”
He climbed in beside her and shut the door. “No getting sick in the car.” He commanded.
“You’re an angel.” She said to him because of course he was. “You’re an angel.”
“I heard you first time.” he said as he backed out of the parking spot.
“It doesn’t stop it though. It is so green now. The trees have their clothes. Do you know you’re an angel? I wish it would stop.” She began to cry. Then everything was black.

The blood slammed against her brain like a drum. Her eyes fluttered open. Everything hurt. The room twisted a little. She rolled over and was sick in the trash can. She grabbed it and took it slowly to the bathroom.
Jimmy wasn’t in the flat anymore. He must have left for work. She slowly made coffee and was almost sick again when the noise of the grinder hit her ears. I’m never drinking again. She thought.

She checked her mobile and saw that her boss had texted her saying that he understood she wasn’t feeling well and hoped she could make to work on Monday. Jimmy must have texted him. He’s an angel. She lowered herself to the couch. There was a lump in the cushion that was exacerbated by her hangover. The cat came out of the bedroom, meowed then jumped into her lap. She turned on the television. There was a show on about someone being the surprise father. She turned the channel. Someone was mad at the American President. Again. Then a cooking show, a courtroom, a decade-old sitcom. Day time telly was awful. She turned it off and pet the cat. She sipped her coffee. She shifted on the lump and the cat jumped off her lap. She flipped the cushion over. His hat was there. She grabbed it and stomped to the bathroom. She threw the hat into her vomit trashcan and started bawling. All this anger, this sadness. She wished it would stop. She laid in bed for the rest of the day.

Peter called her that evening. She wanted to ignore it, but owed him an answer for keeping Jimmy out all night.
“Have you eaten?” He asked.
“No.”
“Come over to our place and eat dinner.”
She sighed into the phone. “I don’t feel like doing anything.”
“You’re making a habit out of the booze. It’s been a month and I’ve not seen you sober for once.”
“Booze doesn’t take any preparation. Dinner does.” She answered.
“Just a long recovery time. You can’t say no.”
“I just did.”
“Jimmy and I are outside of your door.”
“Wha-?” The doorbell rang. “Don’t make me get up.” She said but he had already hung up. She moaned heavily and drug herself off the bed.
Peter was standing there with Jimmy beside him. They were beautiful.
“Am I still an angel?” Jimmy asked, facetiously.
“I look like shit.” She said and shook her hair to make it crazier.
“Oh god, please tell me you at least brushed your teeth?” Peter said as he pushed past her. “Right state your flat is in.”
“I’ll tidy up later.”
“Yes you will. Comeon, Jimmy’s got dinner in the oven.”
“What is it?”
“Better than anything you’re eating.” Peter said. He pushed a fast food bag off of the couch as one would move a dead mouse, but with more disgust. He wiped away invisible germs from the cushion with his hand and sat down.
She looked at him incredulously.
He stared back. “We’re not going til you’re coming.”
“Gross.” She said
“Oh bless.” Jimmy started laughing.
I’m not going anywhere.

Fifteen minutes later she trudged in the front door of the boys’ flat.
Peter bee-lined it for the kitchen and put the kettle on.
“What are we drinking?”
“Ginger tea for your stomach.” He called back.
“Coulda done with something stronger.” She said quietly, but not quite enough.
“No. That’ll do.” He called again.
Their apartment was a large one bedroom. A modern humble string of lights ran across their vaulted ceiling. The kitchen counter was an island with slim barstools. The walls were an understated light blue that glowed when the rare sun shined here in Liverpool.
The boys used to work in London but had found the bustle of the city a little flustering. They asked and were approved for a transfer to Liverpool. To “see the dirtier side of England.” She had lived and worked in Liverpool her entire life. The boys had beautiful accents which drew her to them. To her chagrin neither were interested in women, but in time it didn’t matter. She had met…him. And they were her closest friends when the entire relationship blew up.

She slid onto the barstool. “Two lumps.” She said. Peter nodded with his back to her. Jimmy came in with a tacky Kiss Me I’m Irish apron he found in America, in Boston. He wasn’t Irish but it still provided him with unending amusement. “The thing Americans know about Ireland are reflected on this masterful canvas, perfectly.” He told her as he modeled it the first time. “Here we have a little angry man, from a college, apparently. Over here is a four leafed clover, which everyone knows only happens in Ireland on Saint Paddy’s day. And this is the crème del le crème, a bottle of bourbon. Which is made in the town of Dub-Tennessee-lin.” He giggled the entire time he cooked. He was cooking Pierogi’s today. An old family recipe, he intimated. She offered to help. “Keep your dirty unwashed fingers out of the food.” Was all he replied and she laughed genuinely for the first time in a while. When the tea was ready Peter handed hers and sat next to her. They visited and gingerly kept from the subject of him.
“I’d like to take you to Bolton abbey tomorrow.”
“In Skipton?”
“I hear May is a perfect time.”
“Well yes, but…it’s nearly a two hour drive.” She replied.
“I’ve never been and I’d like to go with a proper tour guide.” Peter replied.
She agreed.
“Food’s on.” Jimmy said.

After dinner was eaten she sat on their couch. She had eaten too much and unbuttoned her jeans to let her stomach free. Peter started laughing.
“I’m going to have a food baby.” She informed them. Jimmy made a face and Peter laughed harder. Then they grew quiet.
“You know what the worst thing is?” She said without thinking.
“Yes?”
“He didn’t even cheat on me. He left me before he did. He told me he didn’t love me and didn’t want to hurt me. He could have just cheated on me and then maybe I would be angry and wouldn’t love him anymore but I do and nothing is worse than being dumped because someone doesn’t love you anymore. Cheating is better.”
“Clearly you’ve never been cheated on.” Peter said as he looked sideways at Jimmy.
“Oh, come off it. We were on a break!”
“It still counts.”
“I thought you had broken up with me and I needed a rebound!” Jimmy cried in defence. “It can’t be cheating if you’re not together anymore!”
“It’s okay I forgive you.”
“Oh Christ here we go.” Jeremy said and Peter laughed good naturedly.
“No now I want your opinion on this.” Peter said as he turned toward her.
“I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole.” She said, laughing.
They visited for a time until the conversation ran out of steam and decided to watch the television. She fell asleep during a tv show about people watching tv shows. She didn’t wake until half eleven the next day.

Peter woke her up with coffee and told her to take a shower. She slid off of their couch and her state made Peter laugh. She flipped him the bird and shut the bathroom door. “Jimmy’s not coming?” She asked as she dried her hair off.
“’Fraid he’s got work today.” Peter replied. “He already missed one day. And blow dry that hair, it’s horrendous. Blow dryer is under the sink.”

Drives in Yorkshire are different from anywhere in the world. Tolkien held the land and the people close to his heart. Anyone who spends time here knows why. There is a history, a picture of humanity and its struggle, it is life that one feels as they meet the people whom want merely to live and let live.

Today was special, because the sun was gracing the rolling green hills with its beauty. It seemed to chase them through the tall oak trees that lined the road. It chased along with them and would crest over the taller hills and when they’d reach the top it would stay and smile and she felt it. They drove in silence and even though they were detoured and slowed by farmers and sheep, made it to the Abbey by three. Peter parked the car. They walked together through the estate. The church itself is old. It was built in the twelfth century. It still held regular services and the choir now was practicing. Their voices danced off the walls and into the ears of passersby. Her favourite thing to do when she came here was feel the centuries old stone in her fingers and imagine how the people must have been when they visited. Peter snapped her picture as she reached out and touched the old rock ruins. Young boys and girls ran across the grass together and she began to feel warm again. She began to cry.
“That came out of nowhere.” Peter said as he looked at her.
“It’s okay. This happens sometimes.” She said as she tried to hide her face.
“Don’t be ashamed. Here sit with me.” Peter said.
“On the grass?”
“It’s fine.” They sat down and the creek stretched beyond them. She could hear it and the muffled speak of the people go by. She wiped the tears away from her cheek.
“Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be happy again.” She said to him.
“Oh.” Peter didn’t know what to say.
“And I know it’s silly. To have this in me and to feel this way. I know it’s temporary and I’m being dramatic. I just think about these things. I tried so hard. I washed his laundry, took holiday with him. Helped him through his mother’s death…and… and we were happy. Things were comfortable, until they weren’t. And to fail…so terribly at it… It doesn’t help how much it hurts. So you don’t have to tell me.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you anything of the sort.”
“No chin up and carry on?”
“No.” He said and she felt better.
“What should I do?”
“Cry for a while and then you’ll feel better I guess, but maybe not. I’m not one to tell anyone anything. I would I suppose say though that maybe you hadn’t failed. Maybe you both had a relationship that ran its natural course and now it has ended and it hurts because two people who loved can never forget and not remember each other. Take a little bit of happiness knowing you got to share time and things with him that will never be anyone else’s…but for now…I’d say it’s okay to be sad for now.”
“It’s been a month.”
“Well crying is okay,” Peter smiled. “Drinking probably isn’t.”
She smiled back to him. “Fair play then.”
Peter took her hand in his. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“Thank you for being my friend.” She said to him. He squeezed her hand.
They watched the children run across the garden and the stream flow past the ruin. They listened to the choir in the church, then and there in May when the trees turned green.