Interior Monologue: Pub Reflections
Where the hell is he? For god sake, Leo, mate, why can’t you just stick to your word for once in your life? My Coke’s nearly finished, just warm and flat, most of it melted ice. Maybe if I tap my glass another one will mystically appear and I won’t have to talk to the girl at the bar again…well, I just look like a prat now. She probably thinks I’m some creepy, loner guy sitting over here in the corner…oh whatever, couldn’t care less. Doubt she can even see me through the smoke from everyone’s bloody cigarettes. It’s even worse after they’re gone. Just a disgusting, stale stench left. Lingers everywhere. Makes me want to wretch. God, this pub really is the definition of old and rickety, feels like it’s going to crumble to the ground any second. Bloody cold too. Freezing. Wouldn’t be surprised if icicles started forming on my nose. Why don’t they light the fire already? Look at them over there, arguing over what to play next on the jukebox. I swear to god, if they put that bloody song on – ah, theeeere it is, ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ for the thousandth time. Jesus! It was only released a month ago and yet it’s everywhere, like a damn cough. Oh god, the blonde girl is singing along with it. You know, she actually looks a bit like my sister, except Ava’s hair isn’t naturally blonde and backcombed to the bloody sky. When she first dyed it, I stared at her like an idiot, not saying anything. I got a punch on the arm, thought I was taking the piss. I wasn’t though. I guess, oh I don’t know, I guess I was kind of relieved she didn’t look like our mother anymore… It’s really hammering it down now, I can barely see out the window. God, I’m going to get so bloody drenched when I walk back, should have taken the Triumph. It’s starting to get really cramped in here. At least it’s a bit warmer. Can barely hear myself think. I’m not used to this. People talking total bullshit…flicking their lighters…cackling and screeching…occasional barking and scrabbling of muddy paws. Laura’s probably sat by the door waiting for me, her little black tail wiggling whenever she hears a slight rustle. It’s actually kind of weird being somewhere without her, she’s become like my little shadow. Best for her not to be here. Someone just has to raise their glass and she cowers like she’s about to be hit. Like she’s been hit. I wish I could find out what happened at her previous home, but I can take a guess. Jesus Christ. How could anyone do that? I just…I’d loved to go and…God it makes me fucking angry. I wonder if…ah yeah, it’s still there. Rough and dry. Probably looks pretty ugly sitting right there on my cheek, not that I care. Maybe people will think I got it from a knife fight or something. Pathetic. Five years, five bloody years… I can still hear the crack as she struck Ava’s shoulder. Her face when I grabbed that damn stick off her, I’ll never forget it. Pale as bloody wax. I was pretty strong for a skinny thirteen-year-old. Mother was so shocked she fainted. Typical. Of course, she made sure to scratch my face up pretty well with her daggers as she went down. Wasn’t long after that she ran off with that bloke down the road, whats-he-called, Derek or something, not that it matters. She lived with him for months, months, not saying a word to us. She won’t be getting a Mother’s Day card anytime soon, that’s for sure… God, stop thinking about her, you idiot. Stop. Don’t let her win, Dad hasn’t. I mean, sure, he’s not here all the time but I don’t mind, I can take care of myself. I’m better off that way... ‘Careless Whisper’. Oh fuck off George Michael. Finally, fiiinaaaally, they’ve lit the bloody fire! I could get lost in those flames. Flickering. Curling. Dancing. You know, Leo probably has a good excuse why he’s late, I mean, I can’t hold a grudge for eternity. I wonder if he ever thinks about his mum… we never really talk about that kind of heavy stuff though, I guess we try and distract each other instead. Every other morning I’d ride round to their house, just to talk to her, while Leo was snoring and grunting like a little pig in the other room. She’d always make me the best breakfast, ham, eggs, toast, whatever I wanted…but after a while she started drinking something that wasn’t tea, said it helped her get through the day. God, what a bloody pair we are, one mother gone and the other drunk as a skunk. She’s probably why I don’t drink now. Leo, ha, he drinks for both of us that’s for sure. Him and his group of druggies out every bloody weekend, hardly see him anymore. I try to remind him about – Jesus! Whose bloody exhaust is that? Wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of the oldies burst an eardrum. Wait. Wait…is that…a white Ford Escort…MK1. It’s got to be him. Only one headlight working. Yeah, it’s got to be. God, wonder what state he’ll be in this time. Bruised face? Blood on his shirt? Covered in dirt perhaps? He’s always getting in to some kind of stupid fight, then he’ll turn up and tell me about it like he’s been fighting Bruce Lee or something. Well done, you got drunk and had a brawl with some half-conscious drunk, really not something to brag about mate. Shit, didn’t he get kicked out of here once? Naah, they’ve probably forgotten. Idiot. What the hell is he waiting for? Maybe he’s lighting a cigarette, or just passed out. No, he can’t be that drunk, I mean, he got here. I’ll go check. Oh wait, the car doors openin – crap. It’s just some other prick dressed like Don Johnson. This must be the sixth, no, seventh time he’s let me down now. I’m fucking sick of it. Sick. I’m going. Should probably get back to Laura. She’s better company anyway.