Jersey Girl - Extended Version

ONE

"Hurry up, Kat. I need to pee!" Benny shouts through the locked bathroom door. I sigh deeply then continue to relax in my best friend's bath. The sweet scent of her luxurious and very expensive bath foam rises from the warm water. The copious amount of bubbles this stuff produces is insane; this is my idea of heaven. I'm in no rush to leave my little slice of paradise. I refuse to finish up this self-indulgent time, at least not until the water is cold or my fingers look like they belong to a woman aged eighty-three, not twenty-three. I'd shift my wrinkly behind if Benny shouted to say she'd fixed me a rum and Coke, but she's angry, so I'll leave her to it and stay here a while longer. Especially when she calls me a 'selfish bitch' for the third time.

I close my eyes and shut out the world and all the madness that goes with it. I start to recall the craziest time in my life, but quickly try to shut it out, closing the blinds to my past. I'm so thankful for how my life is now. Although things could be a lot better, I can't complain considering all the things I went through just a few years ago. I shudder at the thought; a combination of the decreasing temperature of the water and the memories of a past I'd much rather forget.

I lift my leg out of the water then run my hands down my smooth skin; a result of the beautifully softened water. I make a massive error when I slide my hand back up again, feeling the prickles of two-day old unshaven legs. I contemplate picking up my razor, but quickly change my mind, considering the time and effort it will take out of my lazing in the bath time. I'll be changing into a pair of jeans later, so no one will know or care. Just out of curiosity, I check my armpits. That's an even bigger mistake. They're in an even sorrier state; they're hairier than a gorilla's backside. Oh, well. I'm too comfortable and relaxed to care. I sigh again.

Thirty minutes later, it's time to move my arse. The water is freezing, and Benny has shouted multiple obscenities from the other side of the door. She's always on my ass for something. I do love that woman, though. She's my best friend in the entire world, my saviour when no one else was around to lend a hand, and she's the most amazing girl I've ever met.

We've been living together for about four years now, and I've thought about finding my own place and living independently, but we've agreed that we're better off together, both financially and emotionally. I'm in no position to fund my own place yet. We've laughed and joked so many times when discussing our living arrangements, but mainly we agree that we'd both be lonely and miserable without each other. Then we hug it out.

On the very rare occasions when either of us has got lucky, we always try to respect each other's space. Benny has had a couple of relationships. Admittedly, they didn't last longer than a couple of months, which I put down to her being extremely high maintenance. But I respect her, and I've tried to support her on an emotional level. Her relationships with men just tend to fizzle out after she becomes demanding and the guy turns out to be a major douchebag. Twice, her hopes have been dashed by two inconsiderate pricks that were never worth her time. Douche number one met someone else and douche number two dumped her via text message.

With all her special ways, she still has a heart of gold and gets hurt easily, especially when she builds her hopes up and all that hope comes crashing down around her. All I can do is be her friend, her best friend, and provide my shoulder for her to cry on. She got excited, saying things like, 'this could be it', or 'he could be the one'. But as an outsider looking in, I could see that it was going nowhere. I kept my lips sealed on both occasions, not wanting to be the one to cause her unnecessary upset. I wouldn't have done myself any favours if I'd opened my big mouth, spouting my crappy opinion.

Benny and I spend an obscene amount of time getting ready to hit Grumpy's bar. Its nineties night and the DJ will be spinning all my favourite tracks from that era. I give my lashes another coat of mascara, fluff my long black hair with my fingers, and I'm almost ready to go. I've decided to wear black jeans with a white polo shirt under a purple jumper. The collar of my shirt is up, and although my fashion choices are a little dated, I feel comfortable and ready to party. I just can't decide what to wear on my feet. I have my old, scruffy Converse, black knee-high boots with scuffed heels, or purple three-inch heels.