in time // h.s.

xx. janet

Twenty-one years old...

I took us to the nearest pub I could find. It wasn't one we'd ever been to before. We usually headed out to places that were nearer to campus where there would be loads of people we knew and a good vibe, but that night I didn't care for friends or atmosphere. I just wanted to get shitfaced. That's how we ended up in the Red Fox, a dingy little pub, only minutes away from mine. We must have walked passed it hundreds of times in our three years in Bristol, but never had any desire to venture through its doors. Outside, the pub's crest-shaped sign swung wildly in the breeze from one hook, rather than two, it's paintwork was flaky and peeling off, and burly men with 'England 'til I die' tattoos puffed on cigarettes while arguing about the football. Inside wasn't much better with its den-like appearance. A lack of windows made it dark and the little peach-colored lamps were near useless in their bid to brighten the place up. A pokey-sized place filled with wooden benches, covered in worn-down cushions, and sticky tables. It was uninviting, but I didn't care. It served alcohol and that was all I wanted.

It didn't take me long to accomplish my goal for the night, especially since I was ordering Jäger Bomb shots with every drink we ordered. Curled away in a dark corner of the pub, hidden from the locals, we drank, whined about everything that was wrong with life and laughed at the stupidity of it all. The world was starting to turn into a blurry mess, and that was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to numb myself to the heartache Matty had caused, to distance myself from his infidelity. To forget. It didn't work, though. Eventually I'd slip back into thinking about him, cursing myself as I did so. I couldn't help it. It was a pretty big deal to be dropped so carelessly by someone you'd loved for so long. And worse, for them to do so over the phone, telling you that not only did they mislay your trust but, perhaps, it would be best if they were to become a 'free spirit' for now, while they were still young and devoid of responsibility. Yes. That was the terminology Matty used. Free spirit... he'd picked a fine time to turn into a hippy.

I hadn't seen it coming. Even though we lived miles apart, there was never a single time in those three years when I fretted about other girls, not seriously, nothing that was more than playful banter between the two of us. I'd trusted him, I thought I had no reason not to.

Hours into our heartbreak-drinking session, silence engulfed me as I stared into the bottom of my glass, hoping it would give me answers to the never-ending stream of questions that bubbled away inside me, that threatened to make me blub once more.

"Penny for your thoughts," Harry smiled, pulling out a one-pence piece from his jeans pocket and placing it on the table in front of me. He couldn't help but laugh at his own dorky joke.

"You know, I was just wondering why he'd do that to me."

"Oh J..." he said sadly, his face falling with concern.

"Am I not clever enough?"

"Don't be silly."

"Maybe she was one of his sporting pals, all trim and toned. Am I not fit enough?"

"You're being ridiculous, there's nothing wrong with you."

"Maybe I should've joined you on more bike rides," I moaned sarcastically.

"Nah..."

"Am I not pretty enough?" I slurred.

"Of course you are," he said with exasperation.

"Am I not sexy enough?"

"Well, I -"

"I mean, I've changed a lot over the years. There he is looking like the bloody Hulk and here's me, always eating one or two Hershey's cookies 'n' cream bars more than I should."