The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files) (37 page)

“You can have that if you like. I don’t think I will have room for it in the Sunrise Home for the Nearly Departed.”

“Mrs. Morgan! Please don’t say things like that! You will have a great time there. It sounds fun.”

“Well, I hope it will not be too long, my dear. I think it is time to see my Charlie again.”

I stare at her for a moment acutely aware of the massive lump instantly formed in my throat.

“Obviously, Charlie is my King Charles spaniel and not my daft husband.” She lets out a roar of laughter.

I laugh as well. “I would love it, thank you. So long as you’re sure.”

“You can write your book there,” she says, winking again.

“What? What book?”

She just shrugs and wonders off.

10.00 p.m.

I’m snuggled up next to Ben, pretending to look at some textbooks we need to read before class. When I got back from Mrs. M’s I told him what I had been up to. He smiled at me appreciatively, before giving me a kiss, which made packing boxes for the afternoon completely worth it.

10.10 p.m.

“I can imagine you sitting at that desk, sloshing red wine everywhere. It’s a good image.”

I want to tell him that I like the image, too, but I would prefer it if he was in it as well.

28th April

It’s a slow day in the word of selling musical instruments. Very slow.

I refused another eating binge like the other day so Big Baz has been teaching me how to play poker instead. I’m not very good. Apparently my poker face isn’t that convincing. I’m going to have to work on that.

“Shall I bring in tiddly winks next week?” he asks as he sweeps up the mountain of matchsticks he has won.

“Ha, bloody, ha, Baz. You wait. I am just luring you into a false sense of security.”

I attempt a bluff, one that he does not take seriously judging by the chuckles that shake his massive frame. I give him my best dirty look, which makes him laugh even more.

“Oh, you’re not here next week, are you?” he asks.

“Aren’t I?”

“No, you’re moving into your new place, right?”

He looks at me like I am crazy not to remember.

“Oh, yeah.”

Oh, yes. It’s happening, isn’t it?
Tristan and I will be moving our stuff in next week. Then Meredith will move hers in after the last exam, after Ben has left.

“You okay, Lilah?”

“Pardon? What? Uh, yeah.”

“You’ve gone a bit green.”

I look at him, and he looks at me.

“Go home, Lilah. I can close up.”

I lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Baz.”

I rush home to the life that I really don’t want to end.

29th April

“Dharling, Daddy and I have bought a new lounge suite. Would you like our old one?”

“Mum, didn’t you only buy that six months ago?” I ask opening the window wide and lighting a cigarette.

“No. I do not think so, probably nearer to eight.”

“You just bought a new one so you could give us the old one, didn’t you?”

“Shh! Don’t tell your father. You can’t keep that one with the blue stain.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

“We will be up bright and early Saturday to help.”

“Pardon?”

“We will be there to help you. Assuming you need the help?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mum. We’ll see you there.”

I wasn’t expecting that conversation. I stare at Ben who is sitting next to me with his guitar.

“That was Mum,” I say, sounding a little shocked.

“Yep, I guessed that.”

“She’s coming to help.”

“Yep, I guessed that, too.”

“Strange, isn’t it?”

“Nope, not really. My mum is coming to help, too.”

“What?”

“You heard.”

Oh, God.

May

1
st
May

“Ready. Get set. Go!” I shout, starting the timer on my phone. I’m on the kitchen counter. We’re conducting another toast test. This time the question is ‘How long does it take to make the perfect piece of toast?’

Answer: One minute and 33 seconds.

No studying.

2
nd
May

Another experiment.

Which lager is guaranteed to get you more drunk? Stella or Kronenberg? Ben is drinking the Stella. I am downing the Kronenberg.

Trev has money running on the Kronenberg, but I think that is because I am drinking it.

Seven pints a piece.

3rd May

Definitely Kronenberg. That stuff is
EVIL.
I can’t get out of bed and Ben is bouncing around looking frustratingly fresh and headache-free, stuffing marmite toast.

4th May

10.15 a.m.

We have keys. Tristan and I own our very own property. It is finally ours. Neither of us can quite believe it. We grin at each other like idiots. I feel very grown-up.

11.00 a.m.

Mum’s idea of helping involves pouring Bucksfizz for everyone, much to the amusement of the removal men. The men with the rather large lorry are working really hard. We are just sitting around like spare parts watching them lift the heavy boxes.

I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day.

1:45 p.m.

“Ben, I am sending the oldies down. Prepare your mum.”

Ben and Beverly are cleaning the new place whilst we pack up.

“It’s fine, Lilah. Stop stressing.”

“Hmm. Love you,” I say as I hang up.

2.30 p.m.

It’s done.

The flat is completely bare. How long have we lived here? Eight years? It does not seem possible. I am a little sad that Tristan and I could not be the friends we are now for the whole eight years.

Anyway, today is not the day for remorse or sadness. It is a day for new beginnings.

“Ready?” I ask.

Tristan grins, smoothing his blond hair away from his face before linking his arm through mine.

“Ready,” he confirms, and we walk out the door together.

11.00 p.m.

Everyone has left, apart from Meredith and Tristan who are in their room.

Ben and I are in my room, which will never be ‘ours.’ The day has been a success. My mum managed not to get drunk and embarrass me and my dad put on his best Jack McCannon charm for Beverley. It was all very normal. As I lay here staring at my new ceiling in my new room I wish that it could last. Maybe I could have a normal family life, be able to participate in grown-up conversations with my parents, and sit around having fish and chips out of paper every time we move house. I know deep down that the normal feelings spring from Ben's presence. He makes things seem just right with his relaxed approach to everything.

Ben has dutifully unpacked all the kitchen equipment for me, putting things away in various cupboards, shouting out instructions to me explaining where everything is. I don’t know what he thinks I am going to do with it after he is gone. “Lilah, did you know you had a juicer?” he calls, turning to look at me.

“Never seen it in my life,” I gleefully report, which earns me a killer grin before he bends down to stash it in a cupboard from which it will never be removed.

What a perfect day.

Later.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

“That I wish this was my home, too.”

I have nothing to say to this, so I kiss him instead.

5th May

Breakfast cooked by the hottie from next door, who is no longer next door, but instead with me all the time. I give an involuntary squeal as I watch him from the doorway.

He stands in the kitchen, damp hair drying on his shoulders, feet bare under his jeans. Unlike when I first saw him cooking breakfast, this time I do not hesitate walking into my new kitchen. I slide my arms around his waist and lean my head on his shoulder. I am like a living backpack and I stay there the whole time he cooks, which makes us both giggle and results in very crispy bacon and rock-hard eggs.

6th May

What does one do on a Bank Holiday Monday?

One starts the day eating brunch with a gang of best friends, twin brother, and awesome boyfriend. One also goes for a romantic walk in the park, followed by a romantic trip to the pub and tops it off with a romantic evening in bed.

One does not, under any circumstances, get out books of any description, even though exams are only about a month away.

7th May

I have just realised that I am going to fail my first year of Uni because I have been far too busy breaking every rule I set for myself in relation to:

Stalking

Obsessing

Sulking

Being drunk

Having sex

I do not think the University will be overly happy with me.

10th May

“This is very good.”

Professor Johnson looks almost as shocked saying the words as I am hearing them. Ben is not here. He had to shoot off to do band stuff, so I am left facing Crazy Johnson alone. I needed to show him the near-to-final draft of our group project. As this is officially the only academic work I have completed since my dire post-Christmas essays I am very relieved to hear the positive feedback.

“Oh, I am glad you like it.”

“It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was a subject I thought I could understand.”

“Shall I tell you a secret, Lilah?” He leans toward me like he is going to tell me how to steal the Crown Jewels.

“Uh, if you want to?”

“In history you can find any subject that will interest you or spark your imagination. You just have to find it. That is the joy of studying history. You have all of time at your fingertips.”

“Um, thank you.”

“This year it was the story of letting go. Next year it could be completely different.”

I wonder what he is getting at. I’m not sure, so I just shrug and get to my feet, turning to the door eager to get home for my meal for one: Cheerios.

11th May

1:53 a.m.

“Tell me your favourite song,” Ben murmurs, kissing the sensitive spot under my ear.

“I don’t think I have one.”

“What? Everyone has a favourite song!”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Okay, that my love, we need to work on.”

One month, four days to go, my chest feels heavier and heavier with every passing day. The knot of anxiety in my stomach is now a burning inferno.

12th May

I am desperately racking my brain trying to think of a song that I may like. Why do I not have a favourite song? What does this mean? Am I some sort of emotional degenerate who cannot manage to even have strong feelings about something as straightforward as a song?

I was going to ask Baz at work, but I know he will think it odd. Also Ben came to work with me, which is great because I did not eat a week’s worth of calories in one day or lose at poker. But it also meant that I could not flick through Baz’ extensive CD collection. I shall have to put off my ‘favourite song’ finding endeavour until I am by myself.

After work it is such a lovely evening that Ben and I decide to walk down the High Street and along the Thames until we find a great little pub where we settle in for a few hours of beer and crisps until it begins to get dark. We walk back home holding hands, stepping in time with one another, as he serves as a shield between me and the motorists.

Perfect.

14th May

I have come to the Barnes flat. Tristan is not here which is great as I am on a mission. I am going to become a CD track-skipping ninja. I point-blank refuse to not have a favourite song, so I am going to listen to every CD that I have ever bought as I try to find it. If I still don’t have one I am going to listen to every CD that Tristan has bought until I find one, and so on.

Later.

“Lilah? What are you doing?” Tristan asks.

“Looking for something.”

“I see that, Sis. But why are you ripping apart every box doing it?”

I sit down with a bump and start to cry. Tristan steps over to me, precariously tiptoeing over the mountain of mess I have created.

“Why can’t I find a favourite song?” I wail, tears flowing.

“Is that what you are trying to do?”

“Yesss.” I sniff, wiping my nose up my arm. “How can I not have one?”

“I have no idea, crazy girl. Come on, let’s get these discs into order.”

Instead of finding a song, I spend two hours alphabetising all our CDs. Satisfied that I have achieved something with my day, I sit back and survey my work.

“You know, Lilah,” says Tristan softly, “I don’t think you get to pick the song. I think that it will probably end up picking you.”

“Well, I hope it hurries the fuck up. Ben is leaving in just over a month and I can’t even tell him what my favourite song is. He is going to think I am an emotional moron.”

15th May

I woke up this morning to find that someone has cranked the heating up; not inside the dormitory, but outside. Summer has arrived and the campus has exploded into an array of outstanding colour. The guys are playing football on the lawn, whilst all the girls lounge on blankets, pretending to study their books (Jayne is in her element). All the girls apart from me, that is. I do not even bother with the ruse, I just sit and stare. After a while Ben comes and settles down on the blanket next to me, which may be damp with drool.

Is there anything sexier in this world than lying on a picnic blanket in the steaming sun next to an outrageously handsome man?
Nope, there is not.

“Have you finished playing football?” I ask, tracing my fingers over his closed eyelids, memorising the faint blue lines under the skin.

“Mmm, what did you have in mind?”

I don’t say anything. I just shift myself over and kiss along his exposed collar bone. He tastes faintly of salt from where he has been running around in the sunshine. My lips move further up his neck until finally reaching his lips: lips that are smiling under my own, as my hand runs under his T-shirt.

“So
that
is what you want to do,” he murmurs.

I stand up and tug at his hand.

16th May

More sitting on the grass, drinking beer, and pretending to read books.

My arms are pink where I probably should have put sun cream on. Not quite as bad as Meredith.

Meredith decided to wear a boob-tube and roll it up around the middle so she could get a better ‘all-round colour,’ I think she called it. She got an all-round colour all right. She is bright lobster red after passing out in the sun due to drinking four pints of lager. She is currently lying facedown on her bed making some awful moaning sound as Jayne applies after sun every ten minutes.

Jayne has got a date and has asked me to take over the role of cream applier. It’s not really what I had in mind for the night so I suggest to Meredith that I call Tristan because I am pretty sure he would relish the opportunity to spend the whole evening lavishing her with a lubricant but she screamed into her pillow that she did not want to see him until the burn had faded until a golden glow.

“How long's that?” I enquire with hesitation. I have things to do other than smother her in aloe vera.

“About a week,” she tells the pillow optimistically.

“Sod that. I am calling Tristan,” I shout before dashing out and grabbing my phone.

18th May

Tick, tock. Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock.

How can everything be so ridiculously perfect? It is like living in a dream world where every day is an exercise in perfection.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Well, apart from last night, when Ben had to go and see Mihraandah with the rest of the band and make some final choices about something or other. I didn’t really listen to what he was telling me. I heard the word ‘Miranda’ and then zoned out to concentrate on keeping my inner green monster under control.

After he left, I ate cereal and then drank pints with Jayne and Beth. I never expected it in a million years but they have decided to live together next year. I quite like that. We’ll all still be together, just separated into smaller groups: Meredith and I in one place, Beth and Jayne in another. The only people missing will be Eva, who I don’t even think I would recognise if she came up and bopped me on the nose, and Ben. Of course Ben will be missing, too.

19th May

It is ridiculously hot. The shop is a sweatbox and Big Baz and I are taking turns to stand in front of the fan. We can’t both fit behind the counter at the same time without getting stuck in there together.

24 degrees in bloody May! Who would have thought it? I am quite grateful to be out of the sun and in the shop, I doubt Meredith will be heading out anywhere today. I reckon she would take one step out into sunlight and her skin would start to sizzle like bacon on a grill pan.

I’m trying not to sulk but Ben stayed at Dave’s last night. I know it is to be expected, but it still cuts a little. We have less than four weeks left and I am feeling very protective of every minute that passes. Sound Box can have him forever and always. I get thirty-five more sodding days.

Guitar Karaoke

“Do you fancy a beer, love?”

I make a face at my boss.

“Baz, do you think I need alcohol for everything?”

It worries me this is what people think.
It worries me this might be what I think.

“No. Let’s be honest, it’s boring.” He has a point.

“Shall I go and get some?”

He nods at me and I open the till for some money.

“Baz, when I get back, will you play me some tunes?”