Starting Over

“You were the best idea, I had all year, would you believe me if you tried”– Radiate by Ellington

 

My head was pulsating; my mouth dry, and the sun that slithered through the black curtains hitting my closed eyelids engulfed my eyes with flames. I groaned as I used my elbow to sit up, running the other through my messy hair, I had no recognition of this room. Before panic could set in, I felt my stomach churning, I felt as if it was a surfer after a wipeout, caught in the rough surf. The wooden door to the right was ajar, however the light was off, and I prayed that there was a bathroom behind there. My prayers where answered when I flicked on the light to find a glistening white bathroom, I staggered to the toilet before falling to my knees and letting the bile and alcohol mixture that tormented my gut into the porcelain below.

 

I felt like crap, no hangover cure in the world would help me. In the five years that I have been drinking I had never thrown up, whatever they were feeding to me last night was lethal. I felt a cool hand on my back rubbing up and down, the toilet paper holder jingled as the “DEAD” tattooed fingers pulled a few squares before handing it to me. After mumbling a quiet “thank you” to Oli, I rested my head on my arms as his fingers swept my hair into a ponytail and fastened it in place with elastic.

 

“Now I think wot yer need is to fill that ol’ gut of yours up wif some food yer?” he said holding out his palm, I placed my small hand into his as he pulled me to my feet causing me to fall against my chest, I smiled briefly before stepping back and rubbing the back of my neck as a result of the awkwardness.

 

“Um, Jona still ‘as ‘is er company over so yer can shower in ‘ere. I got yelled at when I went to yer room to get yer clothes, so I just got yer some from downstairs,” he said handing me a pair of black skinny jeans with the drop dead kitty on the back, and a purple shirt with drop dead logo cascading down the front. “I got yer a towel too, soap and shit is in there,” he said before turning towards the door.

 

"Oli, um, thank you so much. You know I don't know why people back home told me I was crazy to move in with you guys, cause your crazy and all, but since I’ve got here all you've ever been is nice to me," I said hugging him. I felt him stiffen at the contact at first, before relaxing into the hug. 

 

"No problems Sierra," he mumbled into my ear before pulling away and exiting the room.

 

This was how most mornings were spent the first week of my arrival, waking up in Oli’s bed, showering in Oli’s bathroom, before I moved to the living room to watch what ever soccer match was on. When everyone was ready, and Jona apologized for ditching me once again the night before, we either grabbed an energy drink or a beer out of the fridge, or pour a cup of tea that Carol brought up for us each morning, before donning on our thick overcoats and for me a beanie and scarf, before stepping out into the cool January air. It generally was eleven in the morning when we made our first steps outside, though it seemed to be getting closer to midday as the weather seemed to get colder and our body’s demanded that we stay that extra thirty minutes under the covers of our beds. It took around five minute for our group to walk down the cobble footpath to Lacey’s Diner, where we ordered our usual and discussed the events of the previous evening.

 

Around forty minutes later, our bellies full and bloated, we walked back to the warehouse, where we took off our coats and opened up the first (or in the cases of Jona, Nicholls and Oli’s their third) beer of the day, before the boys retreated to the soundproof room for band practice. Sometimes I would sit in and watch them goof around with ideas, but lately Tom would take me out on little expeditions so that I could model for him, decked out in Drop Dead gear, that would take around an hour, before we caught a taxi back home, were Tom would rush upstairs, turn on music and begin the editing process.

 

This is where I found myself today a two weeks since my arrival, laying on Tom’s bed listening to Deez Nuts as it blared from his speakers and flicking through an old Kerrang! Magazine. When Tom was editing it was as if he was in a completely different universe, he stared at the computer, his mouse clicking and the faint sounds of his fingers touching the keys. This was generally when I got bored out of my brains, and I would go insane. Instead of reaching for another beer, today I picked up my bag, quickly told Tom that I was heading out, and raced downstairs before he could stop me. I pulled on my coat, and grabbed my gloves and scarf off the hook, before racing outside and towards the taxi rink a few blocks down. It wasn’t long before I spied a lone black taxi waiting for a fare, and I slid into the vinyl seat in the back.

 

“Where to sweet ‘eart?” said the aging man said, his tired brown eyes looking through the rearview mirror at me. “Can you take me to the nearest shopping center thing,” I said, he nodded before pulling out from the curb and zipping through the busy streets. The cab had a distinct smell of stale cigarette and cologne, a smell that reminded me of Sean, we pulled up a few minutes outside a large building, I paid the man before scooting out of the car and I once again stepped out onto the cold streets. I scurried into the building through the automatic doors, the warmth of the complex hitting me fully when I had walked a fair distance inside.

 

My credit card was well used, and I had only been to three stores, I felt my iPhone vibrating in my pocket, a sign that it had finally been established that I was missing. I pulled it out of my pocket and “Olleh…” flashed on the screen along with a drunken picture of him, and I pressed the accept button.

 

“What’s up Oli?” I said trying to juggle my shopping bags.

 

“Seirra, where are yer? Are yer okay?” he said hurriedly, obviously relieved that I answered my phone.

 

“I’m shopping Oli, what’s wrong with that?”

 

“You can’t just go shopping’ Sierra, yer could get lost, or hurt or something” he said sighing, “Where are yeh, I’m coming’ to get yer.”

 

“Um…” I said looking around, “There is a Starbuck’s here, if that helps, and it was like a five minute taxi ride…” I said biting my lip, I heard keys jingle  “and in my defense I did tell Tom I was going out.”

 

“Well go ter Starbucks, I’m pulling’ up now. See you soon lug,” he said hanging up. I slowly slid my phone into my jean pocket before turning on my left heel to head to the direction I saw Starbucks, I almost didn’t recognize him at first, his hair was brushed and freshly straightened, unlike the mess that usually sat on top of his head. He had on a black pea coat, and maroon scarf wrapped around his neck. The only thing that gave him away was his black Drop Dead jean, he even was wearing black boots, I stood there stunned for a minute, and looked at him in amazement.

 

“There yer are, don’t yer ever do that ter me again,” he said hugging me, the smell of cigarette filling my nostrils as I stood there.

 

“Why are you dressed so fancy,” I said as we entered the coffee shop and waited in line to be served.

 

“Well it’s ‘arder to recognize me when yer cant see me tats, I somewhat look normal yer?” he explained, and I nodded at his theory. After he got his coffee we headed back to the shops, “ey, lets ‘ead in ‘ere,” he said pointing to a store to our left. I looked over and saw that it was a dress shop; dresses and me went together as well as snowy weather and skinny dipping, I could wear one, but I looked plain stupid doing it.

 

“Oliver, no…” I said walking forward, however he caught my wrist and dragged me into the store, “Why must I buy a dress?” I groaned as he went towards a rack of black dresses. “I have plenty of black dresses,” I whined, hoping he would finally cave in to my demands, but no luck.

 

“First of all Sierra, yeh not buying’ the dress I am, secondly, I know fer a fact you didn’t bring any dresses ver’ ‘ere, and yer need a dress fer this thing we are going teh tonight,” he said, “’Ey lug, can yeh help me?” he said to the older women behind the counter, “This beautiful gal ‘ere needs a beautiful frock fer tonight, can yeh help ‘er, money is no problem,” he said plopping down on a plush couch, and the women dragged me off to my doom.