Why would I forget ? | Roger Taylor

24- Lighter

9th August 1972

I threw my bag to the floor dramatically and immediately walked over to the kitchen to try and find the packet of cigarettes I was sure I'd left on the counter. I'd just spent about an hour sat in some shitty restaurant with my parents talking about what my plans for the future were. Since Emily's accident they've continuously reminded me that I need to sort my shit out and give them back the money I owe them.

Spending dinner with my parents was always hard. The memories they reminded me off were too much to handle sober, so I resulted in drinking maybe a few too many glasses of wine. My mum however was the same. They only bothered to see me just in case I got into some terrible accident like their other daughter. So if I did just suddenly die, they wouldn't have any guilt to bare.

After my hunt for my packet of cigarettes was unsuccessful, I dodged the sofa and went straight to bed, falling into the cold sheets. I let out a deep sigh and shut my eyes for a minute, hoping the glimpse of darkness would block me from the real world even for the smallest second. But unfortunately I didn't live in a reality where I could abandon the moments I didn't want to be in.

I laid in my bed listening to the odd car go past or a muffled conversation from one of my neighbours, until I decided maybe the alcohol in my cupboards might be worth drinking. I rolled over slightly to get out of bed, and to my annoyance my lighter fell out of my jacket pocket and managed to fall under my bed. I mumbled a few cuss words and pulled myself off the sheets to try and find the fallen lighter.

I fumbled under my bed until I finally found my lighter, but my attention was grasped by some other objects scattered underneath the wooden frame. I used to just stuff all my things under there and forget about them.

I pulled out a couple of books that had particularly caught my eye that were coated by a thin layer of dust and began looking through them. One of them was an old text book, the other a copy of 'little Women' and the one sat on the bottom had a simple plain black cover- no writing or anything.

I tried to think of what it could've of been, until the little lightbulb in my head lit up and I remembered it wasn't a book at all. It must've been my old photo album from when I'd first bought my Polaroid camera.

I opened it to be greeted by a picture of me on my first ever day of college. I had a huge fringe that took up the majority of my face aswell as a little black head band crossing from one ear to the other. I had on a bright yellow T-shirt and checkered skirt, wearing boots that went up to my knees that I still own now. I had a blue book clutched firmly in my grasp and was smiling brightly into the camera. I used to look a heck of a lot happier back then.

I flicked slowly through a couple more pictures of me, I seemed to be very photogenic when I started college. There were dozens of me and Emily, she was my best friend, but I didn't want to spend too much time focusing on her- I would only end up in a puddle of tears and booze bottles.

I scanned through the pictures of me progressively getting older, which included growing out my fringe, and was soon reunited with some old photos full of familiar faces.

There was one picture of me and Freddie, both of us smiling into the lense stood close together. It must've been taken around the time I started becoming friends with the others, as I could just about make out Brian's curly mop in the back.

The page next to the one of me and Freddie showed a picture of me, Brian and John all with a glass in our hands and bright smiles across our faces. I could vaguely remember Freddie saying something stupid and the three of us trying to contain our laughter as he held the camera up to his eye.

I of course found a string of photos full of Noah's face. I'd never stopped taking pictures of him when we first started dating, I thought he could've been a model. I now release his face was probably too bloody fat anyway. Not to my surprise, they weren't actually any of us together.

I rolled my eyes as I was reminded of the scruff I used to convince myself I was in love with, but I then found a picture that made my stomach do a little flip.

The image showed me and Roger at some party by the looks of it, his arm round my shoulder as we both laughed genuine laughs. He was coated by a shear gloss of sweat, which oddly suited him, and his hair looked to be a little shorter than it was now. He was wearing a black shirt which was of course fully unbuttoned, and a small necklace. I had a little red dress on and my make up the exact same as I did it now, similarly to my hair.

Nothing on the outside of me had changed. But the difference was I looked happy then. I was laughing loudly, not trying to hide my teeth, my eyes slightly wrinkled. I think this photo I was made me realise how much I'd meant to Roger at the time. The way he had his arm placed round me gently, or the way it was clear our eyes had only just parted to look at the camera. We had a care for each other like no one else I knew.

My body was swarmed with a little funny feeling. There wasn't many photos left and I soon reached the end of the album, but couldn't stop thinking of that picture of me and Roger. I flicked back through the album and slid the print out of it's plastic cover and put it on my bed side locker.

An- sorry this was so boring but this was just a little fill in chapter, some better stuff is coming up soon (well I think it's better anyway.)