Sophie's Throughway (10 page)

I made a drink of tea and one for Karl despite not wanting to. He'd only find another reason to find me churlish if I didn't. I took mine into the living room and sat down. That's when I saw my beautiful red note book used and abused by my stupid ideas. I picked it up and read my notes. Though it was kind of ridiculous it was a fun idea. Then I recalled texting Colin and Johnno. I remembered telling my boss that he could get a blow job for a fiver. I groaned and put my head in my tea free hand.

Karl came into the room in his suit and looking
so
not Saturday morning. “Have you seen my car keys?”

“No. I've made you a drink. It's in the kitchen.”

He went back through and I heard the jingle of his keys as he located them. He came back into the lounge. “Look, you need to have a serious word with Brendon about last night. I'm not going all out to support him at governors meetings if he's going to become a pot head. He needs a major attitude change all round.”

“You think?” I retorted. “How about
YOU
have a word with him for a change instead of giving me a hard time about it and expecting me to deal with every.single.thing.” I flicked my thumb through the corner pages of my newly abused notebook to try and distract myself from the rage building within.

“I don't have the time now, obviously. You do.” He pulled his overcoat up from the back of the sofa where he'd left it last night and shrugged it on.

Yes Karl, I thought. I've got fuck all else to do. I hated him right now.

“Well so long as you've got your priorities straight.” I gave my final dig.

“I'll talk to you another time,” he replied flatly and walked out the front door. I heard his car rev up and drive away and I felt sick.

I sat with my tea and thought about my life: An ex husband who came and went as he pleased, solely fixed to his own agenda. A son I couldn't control, whom I had to battle with continually; a daughter who I had to ensure got tons of attention so she didn't feel left out. A job I was trying to hold down along with my ‘flexible' hours so I could appease the school when Lord know-it-all, went off on one. A rambling house in need of constant upkeep; a garden full of ever growing plants; laundry, cleaning and cooking and not nearly enough money. Where was all this mentioned in the fairytales? I reckon Grimm wasn't even up to this nightmare. I was on stress out overload and I felt weak, lifeless and well ensconced on the wagon of self pity.

I lifted myself from the settee and stretched my whole body as high as I could. I'd read somewhere that if you fully stretched yourself out in the morning you'd get fifteen percent more energy. I had to get up and get on with it and ‘carry-on-regardless' in true British style. I went around the house collecting pots and plates since nobody else understood how to do this. I looked at the remaining hash brownies and was stuck with a dilemma: Should I eat another and go back to the music of my mind, wrap them up and save them or chuck them away? I
covered them with tin foil and hid them until I could decide. I spent the next few hours, cleaning, washing and scrubbing the house which in turn had the same affect on my mind; like clutter clearing of the soul.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

Ah. The taxi call. Another job to add to my curriculum vitae.

I got in my car and drove through the family estates to fetch Bryony. She got in with a cheery smile. We had a chat about her night and then I went straight in for the kill to catch her off guard.

“How long have you known about Brendon doing weed?” I spotted her hesitation in a second.

“What?” she stumbled. “Is he?”

“Bryony. I know you know so let's cut the crap and start talking.”

“Promise you won't tell him?”

“You have my word.”

“Well, he used to
hate
it and call everyone that did it wasters. But then when he went to that party at Joe's house he tried some. He told me about it the next day and said it really made him feel good. I don't think he has it very
often, just now and then..” She looked at me with wide eyes.

“And is it true that loads of teenagers are doing it?” I asked.

“Yes Mum. God, people do that more than they do
drinking
. People in the year below me do it. They meet down fag alley at the side of school at lunch or after and get high.”

“God.
Really
?” I was shocked at this revelation. Hmm… that was one I could store up and use against Fothergill if I had to. Drugs at school in middle class suburbia.

“Have you ever had it?”

“No. No way Mum. I wouldn't even smoke!” I believed her but you never knew when the hand of temptation would come poking.

“Well that's good. But just so we're clear, If I EVER find out you have, then I will go ballistic. Totally. You understand?”

“YES! FINE. I get it.”

“And don't get sucked into your brother's arguments that it's totally safe and harmless. It's an illegal drug for a reason. It messes you up. Trust me. He drugged me and Dad last night with cake and I went into magic roundabout land. Don't ever eat anything he gives you.”

“LOL! You and Dad trippin' on weed! HA! That's joke!”

“No it's NOT. And don't give your brother
any
ammunition by saying so!” I pulled into the drive to see Brendon at the front door letting in four of his friends.
One of them was Luke. I got out of the car quickly and followed them in, giving Brendon a dirty look.

“How are you feeling Mommy?” Brendon said with a wicked grin.

“Annoyed. You'd be well advised to keep out of my way.” I'd rather have sat him down and spoken to him alone but now all his friends were here that was going to have to wait until tomorrow. I said hello to his pals and then turned to Luke.

“Are you Catholic, Luke?” I asked lifting a rather nice rosary out from the mass of other gold chains he had draped round his neck. Luke was the epitome of Chavtastic and so wildly different from Brendon's other friends. I never saw him without a snapback, tracksuit, a different pair of trainers nowadays referred to as ‘fresh creps' and some sparkly earring in his pierced ear.

“Err, no. I'm not Catholic. I don't believe in God,” he answered looking a little perturbed.

“Oh well that's a good thing,” I retorted, letting the dark rosary beads fall from my hand, “or you'd be doing a lot of Hail Mary's tomorrow for your sins,” I smiled.

“What sins?”

“The hash brownies?” I offered. “Did your Mum and Dad enjoy them too?” He looked at me sheepishly and at a loss for words.

“Mum, leave him alone and stop being such a
fucking
bitch!” Brendon's friends all looked to the floor, embarrassed by him swearing at me and the whole awkwardness of the situation.

“Watch your mouth.” I walked away to the utility room. I knew that it wasn't Luke's fault I'd been fed hash brownies but I wanted him to know I wasn't happy. He was involved, after all.

I turned on the iron and looked at the piles and 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'd
have to be super pleasant and charming as well as go steady on the wine. Where was the fun it that?

“But 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 on
word 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.

I didn't doubt it. And on more than one level. I played a reasonable 20 pointer.

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 film in the DVD player and settled down to watch it. Escaping to another world for a few hours was just what I needed and I was definitely up for taking some NZT-48 by the time the film finished.

I clicked on my game before I made my way to bed.

Bradley Cooper was the main character who played the drug taking writer. By usual standards he would make it to any woman's ‘Top twenty, shaggable celebrity list', but not mine. And ‘The Voice' was jealous of him? An interesting development and one that made me catch my breath a little.

Wow. Where was
this
going, I wondered. We seemed to be moving swiftly from banter to flanter and Mr. California was certainly getting into my head, that's for sure.

I went to bed emotionally drained. As I snuggled down I recognised the faint smell of Karl's cologne from where he'd slept the previous night. I wondered whether he was doing the horizontal tango with his dancing friend and felt upset and pissed off at the same time. I turned over and shut my eyes begging sleep to take me away from this hell of a life. I drifted on and off in fits, primarily because I had a stream of teenagers running up and down the stairs, shouting and laughing and totally oblivious to the needs of the sleeping. I could hear the distant tones of both Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift playing from different areas of the house. Doors were banging and creaking; taps were being open and closed along with clinking glasses and plates. I wanted to go downstairs and either shout or join in but I was physically and mentally wasted. Part of me didn't want to spoil their joy either because the fun and freedom of youth is such a short lived experience. I decided to text:

I lay in bed in the dark wondering if life was
ever
going to be any different for me as I listened to the haunting Ed Sheeran lyrics permeating my door, “
Lights gone, day's end, struggling to pay rent, long nights, strange men..”

 

Chapter 13

Sunday morning came with relentless, pounding rain. I hated the rain, it always put me on a downer. I passed Brendon's room and peered through one of the empty squares where there had once been glass. He'd slammed his door so hard in temper one day, that it had completely smashed and I didn't see the point of replacing it for him to do it again. All bar one of last night's friends lay in lumps around his room. It stank of teenage sweat, overused clothes and something I couldn't decipher. Disgusting. I hurried downstairs in case it permeated my clothes.