Soak Up The Sun

Crush

21 September 2014

Liam Gallagher lay on his bed with his curtains drawn staring up at the ceiling. He sighed heavily feeling every bone in his body ache with waeriness. It was all over. Again. Beady Eye gone. Oasis gone. Noel gone. His marriages failed. Beautiful kids but nothing stable. He swigged the whisky from the bottle next to his bed. Fuck. He'd become his own father. The last thing he'd ever wanted. He felt tears nip at his eyes. You're pathetic.

Noel was doing well with his music and it was a bitter pill to swallow...yet...he was proud of him. He always would be. He knew it would be hard after the split. Noel was the real talent. He was just...a Parka. He'd caned it too hard for 20 years. Lost his voice. Looked a mess. He scratched his chin feeling untamed stubble. You've let yourself go mate. Big time. He wished things hadn't ended so badly with Noel and Oasis. That he'd kept his temper. That they could still be together.

He dreamt for a moment holding into a single memory of when he'd stepped out onto that stage at Glastonbury '95. The first time he'd really thought they'd "made it." Before Knebworth. Before Maine Road. Befire everything got too big. Before he amd Noel had imploded. That moment. Being on top of the world at 22. Now look at you. A fucking mess with nothing.

It was his birthday today and he'd spent it alone for the first time ever. The phone had been ringing all day. His mam most likely. The only one who still cared. She deserved better than him as a son. 42 years old. And not a thing of worth, besides his kids to still show for it.

He did something he hadn't did since he was a kid. He knelt at the side of his bed and prayed. Like his mam had taught him to do as a child. He exhaled shakily.

"Please God if you're real let me have a second chance. Let me go back. I won't make the same mistakes again. Take me back to being 22. I won't fuck ot up this time. I'll be good. I just miss being needed. I miss my brother. I miss my voice...I won't fuck about. I'll do everything right. I'll commit to one woman. I won't play away. Please."

Liam felt the hot tears of regret and desperation roll down his cheeks. There was no God and he was alone again.

23 June 1995

Liam awoke with a heavy head. Memories of last night coming back to him. What a pathetic loser. He scratched his chin. Smooth. Young. He froze. He sat up in bed with a start. He was in a hotel room. Alone. He looked at the table. Coins. Old pound coins. A fag packet with the clearly legible B&H label. His heart pounded as he ran to the mirror and stared at his skinny, boyishly beautiful 23 year old self in the mirror. What the fuck?!

He pinched himself. He splashed cold water on his face. Nope still here. He was panicking. He drew open the curtains. 90's reg plates on the cars. He looked up at the sky and smiled. Thankyou God.

"Ugh right you'd better get dressed hot stuff. You're headlining Glastonbury tonight isn't that what you asked for specifically? And you're just standing here in your pants? Pathetic,"

Liam jumped and oddly for him felt very self conscious about his lack of clothes so he grasped for the curtain to cover himself.

The woman in front of him rolled her eyes. She was wearing a business suit. Dark, playfully eyes. Polished. Terrifyingly beautiful.

"God?" He asked.

She looked impressed but scoffed at him.

"No. But thanks for that. I'm your guide. Guardian Angel. Wish granter. Genie. Whichever you like."

Liam's mind whirrred.

"You're the one that did this."

She nodded with an impressed smile.