Take It to Heart

It was well past midnight, and at 21 I really ought to stop sneaking blokes into my bedroom. The last thing I needed was Naomi catching a glance of Oliver slipping in through my stickered door. She had been on my case recently, asking where I’d been and who I was seeing all the time. It obviously wasn’t natural curiosity. And if my mum saw him, she’d go berserk. “A boy like that?” she would hiss. “What on earth does a boy like that want with you?”

But there we were, in the open space near my bed. Oskar had come along too and was wiggling around in Oliver’s tattooed arms. He had shown up unannounced about an hour ago, and with Oliver, he never gave a reason why. I let him in without a question. In my room he poked around my desk, looking at photos, random knickknacks, and books for university. Once he had his fill of snooping, he turned his attention back to me.

“How long is the whole wedding thing goin’ to take?” Oliver asked, letting the squirming dog out of his hands. The moment all four legs were on the ground, Oskar headed straight for me, plopping himself down in the gap between my crossed legs.

I gave the dog’s ears a scratch. “Wantin’ out of it already?” I asked. We kept our voices low. “I was planning on heading there Friday, since the wedding is actually on Sunday. Pretend like I’m making an effort to socialize, yeah?”

Oliver leaned against the wall next to me and slumped down to sit like I was. He looked odd with his arms dangling over his skinny knees. His hair was a mess and he had bags under his eyes. His band played a show before he came over to my house, but he wouldn’t tell me that (“It’s just been a long day, don’t mind me.”). I wondered if he would ever actually let me know about the band, or if I would have to tell him that I already knew. Part of me wanted him to be the one to say something. I felt like that would mean he trusted me, and I definitely wanted him to trust me.

“That’s fine,” his voice was raspy. “We’ll be back before Christmas, right? My mum likes us all home for Christmas.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry; I’ll get you to your mum before your curfew.”

Oliver yawned, leaned his head back onto the wall, and closed his eyes. I almost wanted to leave him there, or at least move him to the shag rug that covered most of my bedroom floor. Before I could make an offer, he spoke up. “I should really get home, but we’re having a thing at the store tomorrow after closing, you should come round.”

“Sure.”

And then he was gone, along with Oskar. He let himself out quietly so he would not wake any of my family. These small encounters seemed to be the definition of our relationship: snippets of conversation and time sewed together.

Sometime between early morning and dawn, I drifted off still leaned against the wall and woke to my mobile phone’s alarm. It was one of those mornings where autopilot gets you in and out of the shower, finds you clothes, and wakes you up with a mug of tea.

Today, I had errands to run, work, and lunch with Anna. All I really wanted was to go back to sleep. Instead I forced myself into warm layers and drove to the mall. I had to get Josh and his fiancé some kind of a gift, but what do you buy a couple that you hardly know? Even growing up with Josh gave me no clues on what they would possibly want. Kitchen appliances, furniture, and décor were not only out of my price range but already promised gifts from aunts and uncles and grandparents with the same dilemma as me. Lark probably had a registry somewhere, but I hadn’t had any contact with my brother or her since I left him the voicemail a few days ago.

I thought of picture frames, vintage lamps, even multiple throw blankets. I was at my wit’s end just as a family owned store in a pocket of the mall called to me. It was cluttered and disorganized. I ventured through it, overwhelmed with the task of finding something for my brother. Maybe I should just stuff 100 quid in an envelope and call it a day. And then I saw them, scattered across tables and shelves in every size, shape, and color: mugs. Josh always loved mugs, and even to this day has one reserved as “his” in our cupboard. I suddenly didn’t care if Lark would like them, or if they were moving into a modern, chic little house. My basket slowly filled with mismatched mugs, some were colorful or festive or plain. They were all different dimensions and styles. I bought a total of ten and figured that would be the same as buying a real set, minus the fact that none of them were the same. Whether or not they appreciated the gesture, I found something that would wrap up nicely.

Before I checked out and left, I bought one more mug, for Oliver. He might as well get a gift for going to the wedding with me. This mug was bright yellow with faded black and teal birds painted on it. I guessed that it was more than ten years old. It would be a nice contrast between the all-black cups he had perched in his kitchen.

That afternoon, Anna and I met at a quirky coffee shop only a few blocks from the mall. Our booth had cracked seats and carvings in the wood. Drab as it was, the coffee was hot and their blueberry muffin met my standards.

“So much for lunch,” Anna grumbled. She lightly stirred round a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. By the looks of it, something was on the back of her mind. Probably stress of her new flat, which I still hadn’t seen. “I shouldn’t have gotten so piss drunk last night, I could stomach a real meal.”

“Where were you last night?” She hadn’t mentioned anything about going out and last I’d heard she was still unpacking and settling into her flat. Our phone call the other day rang in my head. She had to be seeing someone.

“Oh, just Lorba’s, you remember her right?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “The Lorba that moved down to Essex last month?”

“She was visiting, okay?” Anna was on the defensive. “And why are you questioning me when we still haven’t talked about the tattooed bloke that was at you house on your birthday?”

“It was that one, in that band.” Suddenly the cracks in my cushion held my attention.

“You hag, how did I not know about this? Are you seeing him? Better yet, are you fucking him?” Questions fired in my directions. Now I wish I hadn’t told her. How did she manage to turn this around on me? “You’ve finally broken the dry spell and you didn’t even have the guts to tell me.”

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong, the dry spell is still very much dry. We aren’t anything. I watched his dog.”

“You don’t even like dogs.”

I had no response. She knew me too well. I couldn’t keep this from her when she could already see right through me. With a sigh, I spoke. “It’s not like I fancy him, we just get on well. I just figured I would do him a favor and sit his dog, which worked out in the end because he’s going to the wedding with me and –“

“As your date?”

“Yes… well, no. I don’t know. It’s not a date, it’s a favor. Will you sod off about it already?”

She planted her palms on the table top and looked me in the eyes. “You have gotten the attention of a hot, edgy musician and you expect me to “sod off”? Just have a little girl talk with me for a second. Would you snog him if he made the first move?”

I started to say no, because that was the obvious answer. Of course I wouldn’t snog Oliver Sykes. He is unreadable, moody, and strange and not my cup of tea. But then I started thinking about snogging. I would get to feel his jaw line, which I found quite alluring, and I honestly haven’t had any sort of a fling in nearly a year. As Anna continued to stare I realized I was taking much more time than necessary to answer her simple question. I knew the answer too. I couldn’t imagine ever kissing Oliver, and I really, really needed to push away the idea that just because I can’t imagine it doesn’t mean it can’t happen.

“No, just no,” I shook my head.

Anna’s face twisted into a grin. “Whatever you say.”

“Stop trying to turn nothing into something. And if I find out you’re shaggin’ someone and didn’t tell me I’ll be well angry,” I stated. After a moment of staring, we dropped the whole conversation and went back to stirring sugar into coffee.

Once we were done having coffee, I had work and after work I found myself at a pub with Naomi, of all people. I pulled into the garage at home just in time for her to rush out the back door, get into my car, and offer to buy me drinks. How could I refuse? We each had a pint of ale in front of us and a booth to ourselves.

“Your mum is drivin’ me mental,” Naomi groaned. We had actually been talking, and it was nice.

“Join the club.”

Naomi drew circles into the frost coated on her glass. “She thinks I need a real job. Blimey, I work full time with university added on, what would she like me to do? A salon receptionist really aint bad.”

I didn’t know what to tell her. I was in the same situation and still hadn’t figured it out. There was no way I could give solid advice on a topic that was still kicking my arse.

“Why did your parents split?” she asked unexpectedly. “My dad never let on about it.”

I gulped down a quarter of my ale and braced myself. My mum already endured a lot of scrutiny from family and friends for what happened. By the time she started dating Charlie, she assumed she would never marry again. It was hard for her to come clean about her past, so I wasn’t surprised that Naomi didn’t know. It did make me wonder, however, if Charlie knew the truth. In the end, I wanted to lie because my mum seemed happy, finally, but I wouldn’t like it if Naomi lied had I asked.

“She had an affair,” I said. “It went on for probably a year. I still don’t know why. My mum can be a very irrational person.”

“You ever think she would do it again?”

“I really don’t know,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. It was a valid question and I hated that I had no answer.

“My mum left my dad for an American businessman. He was in London for conferences and the rest is history. I fuckin’ hate the wanker.” I never knew Charlie’s side of the story. I was curious to know why someone who had been cheated on would marry a woman who previously did the same thing. Naomi continued, “But I guess they are happy, yeah? Pretending like everything is lovely.”

Suddenly I saw Naomi as a real person. She wasn’t just the pretty blond who infiltrated my home and sucked up to my mum. In reality, she was a lot like me. We both didn’t see much of our split parents, we struggled through university, and now we had a common distaste for our parent’s new relationships. I felt bad that a bond was forming because of my mum’s bad qualities, but it was better than fighting with Naomi constantly.

“Story of my life,” I said. Naomi lifted her glass, mumbled cheers, and downed the remaining liquid from her cup. I did the same and we ordered a new round.

I never thought I would feel comfortable with Naomi. I never thought we’d be sharing stories over a couple drinks or acting like real friends. It was a pleasant, and sudden, change. Just as things were winding down and Naomi decided to pay off her tab, my mobile phone chimed with a text.

Where are you? Even coming?

It was half past midnight and I had forgotten all about Oliver’s get together at the shop. I chewed on my lip and debated on what to send as a reply. I didn’t really know if I wanted to go, but I figured I should.

“Is that him?” Naomi asked, sliding back into the booth. She cocked an eyebrow at me as she set down ten quid as a tip.

“Who?”

“The one you keep sneaking around with, he has the dog.”

“Oh, yeah, it is.”

“Then don’t blow him off. Take me home and you’re set free, I won’t even give you a curfew, Cinderella.”

I gave in and we headed for my car. Be there soon, I texted and started the car up. It was already 2 a.m. when I parked down the street from the Drop Dead store. The air was cold and I didn’t have proper layers on to deal with it. There was noise coming from inside the building and a few husky looking blokes sat outside the garage style door.

“Can we help you, love?” One asked, leaning forward in a lawn chair. He eyed me up, trying to see if I was familiar.

“Sorry?” I asked, “I’m just looking for Oliver.”

“Aint all the birds just lookin’ for Oliver?” The air filled with wisps of warm breath as they chuckled.

I sighed. Right, I forgot he was supposed to be someone special. “Fine, I’m not in the mood for this. Just let him know that I came ‘round, alright? The name’s Rose.”

With a huff I turned on my heel and headed back down the block. What a waste of my time. One of the men shouted an offer to let me in, but based on the volume inside and the amount of cars outside, I really didn’t want to stay.

“Oi, Rose!”

I was almost home free; keys positioned at the ignition, when a familiar voice echoed down the street. In my review mirror I could see one of Oliver’s friends, Matt I think, lightly jogging toward my car. Instead of replying, I pushed the driver side door ajar and waited for him to say something. “Can you come in and help me? Oli is well drunk, and I need to get him home,” Matt said and wobbled slightly, apparently sloshed.

“Do you need a ride also?”

“No, my girlfriend is comin’ to get me. Only drives a two-seater though. Please?”

Slipping out of the car, I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets and followed Matt back to the store. I was too nice of a person. The guys outside nodded at me this time, like I was now important. We climbed the stairs to the second level where the music was thumping loud enough to make the walls shake. “This way,” Matt said. He grabbed my arm at the elbow and led me past a tan couch with a lanky, black boy passed out on it. He wasn’t the only one either. A girl lay across a table top and a cluster of boys sitting on the ground had leaned against a graffiti-covered wall and fallen asleep. The party must have been in full swing only moments ago.

In a far corner I saw Oliver’s brother messing with a stereo. He had a beer in his hands and was pushing every button to see which would turn it off. “Who is taking Tom home?” I questioned.

“He’s crashing here,” Matt replied. He still hadn’t let go of my elbow. “Earned himself clean-up duty tomorrow seein’ as he invited too many extras.”

We closed in on the office door. Matt turned the knob and pushed it open. Oliver sat inside on the floor, head on his knees. He looked up, his face red from alcohol, and smiled at me. “You came.”

“Yes,” I said. I really wasn’t in the mood for this anymore. He was undoubtedly blacked out at this point. “Come on, I’m going to give you a lift home.”

Oliver didn’t protest the idea of going home. He shakily stood and, with the help of Matt and me, got out into the main room. We had to maneuver him over sleeping people, past the herd that continued the party, and back to the stairs. “Can get him from here?” Matt asked. He looked woozy.

I nodded, slipped my arm around Oliver’s waist, and started down the steps.

“Have a good night,” one of the doormen called as I passed by for the third time. I waved him off with a middle finger and headed for my car again.

“Watch your head, Oli,” I warned. He hit it anyway instead of ducking into the passenger seat.
Once comfortable, he leaned his head against the rest and closed his eyes. With one hand on the steering wheel, I pulled away from the side of the street and made my way toward his flat. I was tired from a long day and didn’t expect to be out this late, especially not playing taxi driver.

It was silent for a while, almost comfortable, when I felt cold fingertips graze my free hand. Oliver’s tattooed knuckles appeared in my peripheral vision. They enclosed the hand I had resting on the center console and slipped through my fingers. He gave my hand a squeeze, eyes still shut, and didn’t pull away. I was so taken back by the gesture that I sat through an entire green light rotation just staring down at our hands. His hand was no longer cold, but warm, and even though his grip weakened he didn’t let go.

“Light’s green,” Oliver muttered. His voice was tired and raspy and I hadn’t even noticed his eyes opened slightly. I glanced at him before driving forward. I could see a smirk on his face moments later as he lifted our connect palms to his face and kissed the back of my hand. “Thanks love.”