Chasing Chaos

2009

I’d gotten the job at The Turn rather easily. Peter had been quite correct in saying that the owner, Ms. Delgado, was purely mental. She was downright batty. She wore ridiculous thick lensed glasses and smelled exactly like the cellar of my parent’s house. Not that these were the things that made her nuts; these things just made me really uncomfortable. Her obvious craziness came in the reason she hired me: “Yer eyes match the cash register.” To clarify, I have sometimes bluish green eyes and the cash register was red.

Peter and I had a good laugh about this when he was training me. In fact, we had many laughs at Ms. D’s expense in my first couple weeks. We were her only employees; she’d fired the last staff member several months previous for, according to Peter, wearing a particularly heinous floral pattern to work. I made a mental note to wear solid colors during my shifts, you know, stick to conservative dress until Ms. D got used to me. After all, Peter always wore whatever he wanted, which was usually black jeans with the perfect amount of tightness and an aging and tattered band t-shirt. On any given day, I found myself wanting to reach out and touch the fading words on his Joy Division t-shirt, testing the fabric for the worn softness. But for the sake of our budding friendship, I abstained from such things.

Peter repeatedly told me how glad he was for my company. It decreased his workload as well as the time he had to spend with Ms. D. At least those were the reasons he told me initially. But as the days went on, I noticed he was growing more flirtatious with me, casually testing the waters. I flirted right back. He was rather fit and quite sweet. He always insisted on carrying boxes for me, even if they weren’t heavy. On the mornings that we both worked, he would occasionally run across the street and buy me coffee. He even let me have the earnings from our measly tip jar. He’d grown up considerably since his days of teasing me with my brother. It was weird to think of my teenage-life, where he would be sitting in my parent’s living room, playing video games and spilling things on our white carpet. It was weird because he fit so naturally in my twenty-year-old life. We spoke so fluidly. We spent most afternoons chatting effortlessly.

“So, Mini-Harvey, what sort o’ films do yeh like?” Peter asked me while the store was rather dead.

“Hmm, I’m goin’ to ignore that yeh called me that,” I stated with an eye roll before considering the question he had posed. “I dunno… I’ve watched a lot of horror films. I like the feelin’ of bein’ scared. The rush, I guess.”

“Wha’s yer favorite horror film?”

“’S a bit typical, but I love the Evil Dead series. I think they’re brilliant.”

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve all three on DVD.”

“Me too!” I exclaimed. “Well, I ‘ave Army of Darkness and Tom ‘as the first two. I forget whether they’re actually mine or his…” I shrugged. “We should have a film night and watch ‘em together,” I suggested. “Order takeaway, make popcorn. It’ll be fun.”

“Tha’d be cool.” He seemed to really enjoy the idea of us on a couch, alone, with the possibility of me being frightened into his arms.

“Are yeh—“ I began.

The bell on the door signaled a customer and we both looked up. I nearly hopped over the counter in excitement. It was Tom who was entering the shop. The guys had been in Europe for most of the week, leaving me to spend an irritating amount of time hanging out at my house. For the most part, I stayed cooped up in my room, drawing random doodles in my sketch pad or checking and re-checking my computer.

Tom looked incredibly tired as I rushed around the counter to give him a hug. “’Ow was the plane ride?” I asked.

Flatly, he responded “Long.” He yawned and rested his chin on top of my head.

“Why aren’t yeh in yer bed then?” I pulled away from him and gave my most maternal of looks.

“’Cause I wanted to see yeh first? Obviously, Annie. That and there’s no bloody food in the kitchen ‘cept old tofu an’ a handful of beers. Need to go to the store.” He brushed hair away from my eyes and I grinned at him.

“Home ‘til Wednesday then?”

“Aye.”

“Thank God. I’ve been bored outta my skull and Mum ‘as been a right cunt about me ‘elpin’ ‘er around the place. ‘S not my fuckin’ job to do the dishes anymore. I don’t effin’ live there really.” I pouted. “Oh! An’ she were talkin’ about when I finish my degree that I can work for Dad’s place and live at home. I nearly popped ‘er in the bloody mouth. She’s mental ef she thinks I’m goin—“

“Oy, Anna, relax,” Tom instructed. “’S o’reight.”

“But—“

“Relax,” he repeated and I took a deep calming breath. “There, yeh better?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Sorry, it’s jus’… yeh know.”

“I know.” He yawned once more.

“Yeh should go take a nap,” I said.

“Good plan. When d’yeh get off?”

“Peter’s closing tonight… I’ve to only be ‘ere until five.”

“O’reight, cool. I’ll jus’ be at the flat then.”

“Okay. I’ll see yeh in a bit?”

“Aye, yeh comin’ over?”

“Mmmhmm. I can make dinner ef yeh want.”

“Ef yeh don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“O’reight. Sounds good. I’ve to stop at the store. Anythin’ in particular yeh wanna make?”

“I’m flexible.”

“Then I’ll surprise yeh.”

“’Kay. Love yeh.”

“You too, Annie.” He bent down and kissed my cheek before waving and turning to go.

After he’d gone, I was lit up with my post-Tom smile as I turned back to Peter. But I found that he had busied himself with opening a box, peeling packing tape away from the cardboard. Peter looked as though the box had just disrespected his mother. He seemed rather dejected and agitated as he tossed the tape to the ground. I shrugged and sat on the stool, idly picking up a fashion magazine. I flipped through the pages indolently, occasionally peering up at him. Normally he was feverishly talkative but for a good half an hour after Tom’s departure, he didn’t speak. I was thoroughly perplexed about Peter’s silence. I was re-reading the magazine for a second time when he finally spoke.

“So, uh,” he said hesitantly. “How long yeh been with tha’ bloke?”

I looked up. “Wha? Who?”

“Tom…”

“Oh, we’re not together.”

“Yer not?”
“No?”

“But he…” Peter didn’t seem to have a finish to his sentence.

I smiled. I’d been shooting down this misconception for so long it was like reflex. “We’ve been best friends forever… I love him to pieces.”

Peter’s eyebrows dipped low, curious. “But yeh aren’t…”

“No, of course not.”

His mood immediately brightened. He stopped messing with the box and the tape and came to lean on the counter across from me. “Is there another lad then? One in Birmingham?” His voice was casual but his intentions were clear to me.

“Not right now,” I said coyly. “I’m a bit choosy, yeh know.”

“Is tha right?”

“Aye. There’s a rigorous application process before yeh can date me. There are forms to be signed an’ interviews. ‘S quite complicated.” I let a smile play on my lips.

“An’ ‘ow does one begin this process?”

“Well yeh got to show promise in several categories first.”

“Wha are the categories?” He was clearly intrigued; I had know he would be. Over the years, I’d gained some mild skill in the flirting department. I’d learned many of the finer points when I was sixteen.

“I can’t tell yeh that. ‘S a secret system, really. Don’t want to give it away.”

“Huh, well.” He rubbed his chin, pretending to think. “I’ve a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do I show promise?”

I smirked. “I guess we’ll see."

--

2005

I was seriously hoping that Oli had relayed to Tom how miserable I’d been when I stopped by their house. I was counting on the fact that Tom had a soft heart, especially when it came to me. I really didn’t think I could go another day of just sitting and waiting for Tom to quit being so stubborn. It was summer; I wanted to be spending it with my best friend.

The afternoon following my trek in the rain, I’d exited my room to find that my brother and his friends had invaded the living room. They were huddled around the television playing a violent video game and shouting obscenities at one another. If my parents hadn’t been at work, this would not be happening. My brother Sam became a ghost whenever they were home.

“Oy! ‘S Mini-Harvey,” one of his friends, the blonde with the big tattoo on his upper arm, said. They referred to me as Mini-Harvey because they called Sam by our surname and there happened to be a particular resemblance between us.

I groaned and headed towards the kitchen.

“Annie!” My brother called to me before I left the room. I turned, incredulously looking at him. “Can yeh get me and Petey a drink?”

I rolled my eyes, not giving a response before leaving them to their mindless game. It wasn’t that my older brother and I didn’t get along usually. We got on remarkably well under normal circumstances. But he tended to act like a total tool around his mates. So generally, I ignored him when they were in his company. It better suited my anxious disposition to just avoid the conflict.

I focused on making something to eat. I had found that the best way to avoid thoughts of Tom was to keep moving. If I was still for too long, my mind started rushing. It was like watching the people hurrying around at a train station, all of them going somewhere, you just don’t know where. This was how my thoughts were going, aimless and often times in vain. Way too many questions to stay sane.

Why was I so down about Tom? Was there something I was missing? It occurred to me that maybe there was more between the two of us than just average friendship. That was the only explanation for my unexplainable need to be reunited with my best friend. And the idea worried me. Aside from the constant questions about our relationship, I never actually considered our relationship seriously. I didn’t see why we couldn’t just be purely platonic. That happened, right?

I was at the table, picking at a peanut butter sandwich when someone knocked on our front door. I remained seated because I could hear Sam going to get it. I assumed it was another of his friends or maybe our neighbor Ms. Kern, who frequently knocked on our door for ridiculous reasons. I couldn’t hear the conversation taking place; I wasn’t particularly listening. But after a moment, Sam yelled “Annie! Door!”

There was a swell of hope in my chest as I stood quickly, stumbling over the legs of my chair. I hadn’t any clue why Tom would come over rather than just ringing to apologize for being a moron but I didn’t care. I tripped on the hall rug as I turned the corner swiftly; I had to grab a hold of the wall to keep myself from toppling over. One of Sam’s friends laughed at this but I didn’t respond, instead I looked up to the front door. My brother was staring at me curiously, presumably because it was not Tom at the door.

It was his brother.

My own brother gave me an incredibly intrigued glance before walking away, leaving me alone with Oli. It was not every day that strange boys in shockingly tight pants and equally tiny t-shirts showed up at the house for me. It was rare for me to have visitors at all; I usually went to hang out at Tom’s rather than the other way around.

“Um, hi?” I ineptly greeted.

He held up something, a hoodie. My hoodie. “Yeh left this at the house yesterday. Thought I’d drop it off to yeh while I was out.” He pointed to his car. There was someone in the passenger seat, but I couldn’t see who. The sun was out for once and was sending a glare across the windows.

“Oh, cool, thanks.” I took the sweater from him.

“I’ve washed it for you. It were muddy.”

“Cool.” I watched him scratch his neck. “Did yeh tell Tom I came over?”

He nodded. “I did. And made it sound right pathetic. Went on ‘bout ‘ow soakin’ wet yeh was and ‘ow yeh’d prob’ly get pneumonia from it.”

I smiled. “Thanks. Yeh think ‘e’ll talk to me ef I ring ‘im then?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Prob’ly not now. But I’ve definitely softened him up a bit.”

“Cool.” Apparently, I didn’t seem to know many adjectives other than cool. “I’m out of my mind with boredom; he needs to come round soon before I die of it.”

“’M not sure ef yeh can die of boredom.”

“Oh, yeh can. We learned about it in science last term. ‘S very rare but very serious.”

At first, he didn’t seem to know that I was just kidding. Probably because he was usually the one doing the joking. But after an instant, a crooked grin came across his lips. “Well, we can’t have yeh dyin’ on us. Imagine ‘ow angry Tom’d be ef I let yeh die.”

“A bit angry, I’d say.”

“Then yeh better come out with me for awhile, get rid of yer boredom.”

I blinked. Once. Then twice. “Right now?”

“Aye, Curtis an’ I was jus’ drivin’ around. Prob’ly goin to get some green ef my mate’s good for it. Nothin’ too mental or anythin but ‘s better than dyin’, I suppose.”

“Suppose yer right.” But I was a bit uneasy about the idea of going someplace with Oliver. Despite our friendly exchanges and teatime bonding, he was so out of my league. We were practically from different galaxies. His galaxy was, naturally, a million times cooler than mine. But obviously there was something interesting about me, if he was even considering being seen with me. Or quite possibly, he still felt guilty about the Tom situation. That seemed like the most likely option. I decided that I could placate his guilt a little. It honestly couldn’t hurt to hang out with him one time. “I’ve got to find my shoes.”

“Yeh’ll come along?” He looked quite satisfied with this.

“Sure.”

“Brilliant.”

“I’ve not washed yer shirt and shorts and stuff yet or else I’d get them.”

“S’o’reight. Yeh look better in ‘em than me.”

Delight etched into my bones. “Just a minute.” I held up a finger and left to find my trainers. I tossed the sweater over a chair as I slid the laceless shoes onto my feet. I passed by the living room and gave my brother a wave. “I’m off.”

“With that bloke?” He asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

“He looks a bit dodgy.”

“Yeh ‘aven’t any room to talk,” I noted.

His friends erupted into laughter. “Way to go, Mini-Harvey,” the blonde one praised.

“Touché, Anna,” Sam responded. “Wait, aren’ yeh still grounded from last weekend? Somethin’ about comin’ home wasted?”

I’d forgotten all about the being grounded thing. But as I thought about it, I was having a hard time caring about rules. Oli’s statement from the previous evening hit me again in full force.

“I sorta hate bein’ so feckin’ good all the time.” My hand was nervously clutching my cup. I was so serious about it. So sure of the hate.

And so simply he replied “Then don’t be.”
He’d made it sound easy, like it could be done on a whim. Maybe road testing this wouldn’t be such a terribly bad idea. So I nodded at Sam and said “Yeah, prob’ly still grounded.”

“So yeh shouldn’t be goin’ out at all?”

“No, prob’ly not. But I’m goin’ anyway.”

Sam grinned. “Good for yeh. Fight the power, baby sis.” He gave me a wave goodbye without any further questioning.

I was not shocked by my brother’s encouragement. I was usually a great disappointment to him with the way I abided by rules. His disdain for our parents was clear and he always hoped that I would fight alongside him. He’d been quite tickled when he’d heard I arrived home drunk against mother’s wishes. He believed that there was still hope for me.

“O’reight,” I said to Oli as I left the living room and made to exit the house. I was glad then that I’d at least showered and applied a hint of eyeliner. I hadn’t been expecting to go anywhere but with my brother’s nearly good looking mates about the house, I couldn’t comfortably walk around looking like a ratty-haired vagrant.

Oli didn’t open the car door for me like Tom always did; he instead swiftly climbed into the driver’s seat. He’d turned on the car before I’d closed my door and started pulling away before I’d fastened in. “Curtis, yeh know Savanna, yeah?”

Curtis turned his shoulder to me and grinned. “Yeah, I know… Where’s Tom?”

It was a fair question. The only time anyone saw me, I was glued silently to Tom’s side. “We’ve had a bit of a row.” I frowned.

“Oh,” he matched my low tone. “I’m sorry.”

“’S fine. E’s a bloody moron. E’ll come around… I hope.”

Curtis looked at Oli. “’S tha’ why you ‘ad it out with ‘im last night? ‘Cause yeh’ve sided with ‘is girlfriend?”

There were a few things I wanted to say about Curtis’s statement but Oli beat me to it.
“Tom an’ Savanna aren’t a couple,” he said. For once, I wasn’t the one reciting this worn-out phrase and it was rather refreshing.

“They’re not? I thought…”

“’S what I said,” Oli added.

“So ‘e’s gay then?” Curtis questioned in a serious manner.

I was the one to respond quickly. “Why do yeh guys keep sayin’ that? Is it so hard to believe that a girl an’ boy can be jus’ friends?”

“Well,” Oli pondered. “Yeah, it is hard to believe.”

“I don’t see why.” I folded my arms across my chest.

“’Cause tha’s not how the world works, love,” Oliver stated, speaking to me like you would speak to a child. I hated that. I wanted to be an equal to him.

“Tha’s how MY world works,” I asserted confidently. “Jus’ because you lot are ruled by yer ragin’ hormones and need to hook up does not mean that I am or Tom is. Some relationships don’t have to be romantic to be strong.”

From the front seat, Oli laughed at me. “Yer fuckin’ cute when yeh get angry.”

My cheeks immediately burned and any confidence I had accumulated withered. He had called me cute and this caused me to fall silent, internally debating whether cute was a good thing to be.