Why would I forget ? | Roger Taylor

14- Vodka

23rd July 1972

My day followed it's usual course. I was rudely awoken from my some what undisturbed sleep by a blaring alarm clock and blinding beams of sunlight shinning through the gaps in the blinds before going to work in the same half-decent clothes shop I'd worked in for the past two years. Then, similarly to every other week day I stopped at the closest food store and bought myself a bottle of vodka and enough Pepsi to get me through the dull, boring night ahead. And when Freddie asked what I'd spend my week doing the next time I saw him, I'd deny the fact I'd even gone near a drop of alcohol.

I stepped into my flat and dumped my bag and jacket onto the floor, kicking off my shoes and stretching out dramatically as I let out a deep sigh of relief. I knew it was still relatively early in the evening, meaning realistically I could spend my night doing whatever I wanted. However, since I was the recently heart-broken youngish girl who spent most of her time thinking about a blonde she'd kissed twice and a boyfriend that had famously cheated on her for three months, I decided to spend my night with my best friend. A bottle of vodka.

Sitting down on my old, leather sofa after work was like a curse. The moment I let my tired frame sink into the soft couch and pulled an old knitted blanket over my cold legs, my mind played its usual game. Flashing memories of either Roger or Noah, and sometimes even my younger sister. Loosing Emily certainly damaged me, but I was slowly learning how to live with it.

The problem was that when I lost Emily, I always waited for it to get better. But in reality, people would only tell you life would improve to give you a small glimpse of hope in the mix of your guilt, depression and anger. I soon learnt that the constant false reassurance fed to me by the people around me was a lie, and I realised that the accident was just something I was gonna learn to live with, no matter how bad it would hurt me.

I flicked on the tv and surfed through the channels to try and find something decent to listen to in the background whilst I tried to drink my thoughts away. Like most nights, all that was playing was the news or an old Top of the Pops re-run, so of course I settled to watch a band play a track I'd either heard a million times or had never listened to. I rolled my eyes and lit a cigarette, letting out a large cloud of grey smoke into my flat.

Suddenly, much to my surprise I heard a very gentle tap at the door. I quickly looked over to the clock on the wall, noticing it had only just gone six o'clock. Thinking about who could be the opposite side if the old wooden door, I paused momentarily. It couldn't of been Freddie- he would of just used his key and waltzed in. Other than the singer, literally no one stopped at my flat, only further feeding into my concern towards who was at the door.

I took a little deep breathe and pulled myself up off the sofa and opened it.

"Tee ? Are you alright ?" Brian stood in the door frame, his dark eyes full of concern. I sighed in relief and let the cigarette burning between my fingers reunite with my lips.

"Yeah why wouldn't I be Bri ?" I replied. It wasn't until after I'd responded that I realised that Brian could've easily come up with multiple reasons as to why I might not of been ok. I just bit the inside of my cheek and hoped he wouldn't stand at door and start listing the reasons why I only found comfort in a bottle of booze these days.

"Sorry, I just worry about you sometimes." Brian sighed and looked down. I nervously bit my nails and we both waited for one of us to fill the cold silence. I wanted to ignore what Brian had said- knowing that people worried about me never exactly helped with anything. The thought of me being on some else's mind, causing them to stress, often haunted me.

"Did you wanna come in Bri ? That hallway's probably flooded with spiders." I chuckled and stepped back, avoiding letting my eyes meet Brian's as he stepped into the apartment and took a seat on the sofa. I returned to my original spot next to him momentarily after putting out my cigarette