This Year

Chapter Seven

I slowly opened one eye, then the other. I had no idea how long I was out for, or where I was. I could feel that I was moving, but not on my own. My head was rested on someone's shoulder, and my arms hung around this person's neck. He held my feet and they dangled freely. I figured someone was carrying me on his back. While I slowly came to my senses, I could smell a familiar smell from his jacket. It was Paul's cologne and the smell of cigarettes. It was dark and I could see the yellow streetlights passing by slowly as we walked. Or should I say; as Paul walked. I started to feel a bit guilty about. I was probably heavy, and I reckon Paul were drunk, so it had to be challenging to walk with me on his back. Despite his teddy boy image, there was something warm and kind about him. I haven't gotten to know him that well yet, but I could still feel that he was different. I felt kind of...safe with him. I tightened my grip around him, and then I did something I haven't done in a long time. A tear started rolling down my cheek, and I gritted my teeth to make it stop. But I couldn't. In a matter of time I began to quietly sob on Paul's shoulder. I don't know why I started. It was probably because I was a bit shook up, intoxicated and tired. Paul noticed that I was crying, because he stopped walking. He gently removed my arms from his neck and slowly put me down. He sat down on the pavement and he pulled me along until I sat on his lap. He leaned me onto his chest and placed his chin on top of my head. He started to hold me and shush me for comfort. My tears were flowing. I haven't cried in a very long time. Just like I told Paul, I put myself in a shell and held back my feelings. I've been like that ever since my dad died. God how I missed him. My mum has always been a very busy lady. She's always away on trips, leaving me and my dad to be home alone. Damn her. I never felt that she cared for me, and our relationship have never been good. I'v always felt that my mum were cynical. I bet she thought having me was a mistake too. My dad was the happiest and kindest person I've ever known. He was always joking around. We made food together, went on trips or to the movies, played guitar together and all that. He took good care of me, and I loved him so much. We really had a special bond. I remember the day he died so well. Every detail. It plays like a movie when I think of it. And it's far from a romantic comedy. I was making dinner for us while waiting for him to arrive home from work on a Monday. When I was finished at the time when he usually gets home, he still wasn't home. He was almost always on time. I sat at the table still waiting for him after two hours, until I heard two knocks on the door. I shot up from my chair happy by the thought of him coming home. I smiled widely when I opened the door. But it wasn't my dad in front of me, but it was two police officers. It was car accident they told me. At first I laughed at them because I couldn't believe it. It was impossible. Apparently he was hit by a truck when he was driving. My mum was away and I had nobody to comfort me. I bet I almost cried my eyes out. It was horrible. After that I shut myself in. I didn't talk to anybody and I didn't attend school. When my mum came home two weeks after the news, his funeral took place. I didn't shed a tear. And I have never since. Three years afterwards my mum said we had to move, to get a new start. She said I couldn't go on being this way anymore. So there we were, moving to Liverpool. And after the first week of being here, she goes away again. She said just for a week or so, but I knew it would be longer than that. It's always longer than she says.

"Hey, hey... are you okay..?" Paul said holding my head, until I was facing him so he could look at me.

I couldn't answer him, but I tried to stop crying. My tears slowly started to stop, but I still couldn't control my breathing that well. Then I had something else to worry about.

"John.. d-did..he.." I tried to say between my gasps of air caused by crying.

"No. I came in right on time." He said sounding angry. "We'll figure what to do about it later, okay?" he said while he stroked my hair. I nodded.

I was slowly starting to calm down, and my breathing got more even. I slowly got out from Paul's arms and stood up. Paul rose up quickly when I did. 

"I want to go home." I said.

I turned around and tried to walk. I couldn't because everything still was spinning around. Without saying a word Paul lifted me up on his back again. And started to walk and I didn't protest. I didn't have any strength to do anything. After a good ten minutes we were finally at my house. He walked up the small steps of my house and towards the red door.

"Do you have your key on you?" he asked me.

I browsed my pocket, found it and gave it to him. He fiddled with it and eventually unlocked the door still carrying me. When we entered the living room he stopped for a while.

"Where's your room?" he asked.

"Upstairs to the left." I slurred in response. He turned to the staircase and started to walk upstairs. The old steps were creaking as he wallked up the steps. When we arrived the door to my room, he opened it slowly and looked around until he found the bed. He walked until he was beside it and slowly let me down on it. He put his hand behind my back until I was in a sitting position, and gently took off my coat. He put me down again and covered me with my duvet. He stood up and hung my coat over my chair, closed my window, and disappeared downstairs. I was starting to think he left me just like that until I heard the water running downstairs. It stopped and I could hear footsteps in the staircase again. Paul opened the door and came in with a glass of water. 

"Here." he said while putting his hand behind my back to make me sit up again. He placed the edge of the glass against my lips, and helped me pour so I could drink it. When I was finished he placed the glass on my bedside, and layed me down again. He put his hand on my forehead to feel my temperature. 

"This hangover is going to be nasty, so you have to rest a lot, okay?" he quietly said to me. I nodded in return.

"Okay. I'll let you rest now." he said while gently patting my head. As he stood up to walk, I grabbed his arm.

"Thank you Paul. For everything." I said to him. He turned around and crouched down to me again.

"Don't even think about it right now. You can thank me later." he smiled. "But right now, you have to rest." Then he did something that startled me. He kissed me on the forehead. It was a sweet and comforting kiss. After he pulled away, he puffed up my duvet a bit, said goodnight and were on his way out. I kept smiling after he left, despite being horribly sick. This was the first time someone had cared like this for me after my dad passed away. I saw a new side of the popular teddy boy in school too. He wasn't bad at all. He was actually a very sweet guy actually. And I liked it a lot. I found it a bit peculiar though, that he acted like he did in spite of his style. I know you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover and all that, but still. A teddy boy is a teddy boy. Even still I thought Paul was somewhat different from John and the other teddy boys at school.

Oh god. John. He was the last person I wanted to think about or face. But I knew I had to face him soon. There was no way around it. What was going to happen? What would I or he say? Or do? I somehow felt that right now; it was quiet before the storm.