Tired n' Lonely

I never thought I would see him again when he stepped out of the door of my shop. I leaned against the door frame in my torn black jeans and loose fitting mens Venom T-Shirt, with a cigarette in my hand and waved him goodbye. As he began to walk away I shouted at him:
“Don't forget me when you're famous, Mr. Rockstar!”
He turned around and shouted back at me, “That's a promise, Little Nicky.” The last words I thought he'd ever say to me. I went back into my shop, bolting the door behind me and turning the light in the main part of the shop off for the night. I retreated to my back room and pulled a duvet out from under the couch, spreading it out on the tired cushions before going and putting my Plan 9 VHS in the machine. I had seen it so many times, and I still adored it.
Settling down for the night I remembered the newspaper I had ought on my way to work so I would have change for the bus and finding it hard to settle down to sleep I began to flick half heartedly through the pages. And there he was – Joey – right across the front of the “music” section, with his band mates. Apparently they were causing quite a stir. I smiled fondly at the picture and tore the page from the newspaper, resolving to put it up on the wall in the morning. He wouldn't be back, but I would always remember tonight and I would always remember Slipknot.
Two years passed since I met Joey in my shop. Slipknot were really starting to make a name for themselves and they were embarking on the US tour Joey had mentioned. I would not have found out about it were it not for my job. Someone brought a large poster in to the shop a few weeks before the advertised date. It wasn't him this time, it was someone else. I tried to ask them about him, but the looked at me blankly and explained that they were only a member of the street team. A street team – they had really gotten far in the past two years.
I looked at the list of dates with a heavy heart, remembering our discussion. I was still living In the same home with an 8 year old, a 3 year old and the same job I had when we met. He was going on a tour of America with his band. He had no doubt forgotten me, and our night in the back of my shop. Nothing had happened, we had just spent the night talking and watching films, but it had meant a lot to me to meet someone who didn't judge me for having children at such a young age. Someone who appreciated that life wasn't so easy as it could appear. That routine wasn't ideal for everyone.
I looked longingly at the list of dates. What I would have given to travel to these places. Las Vegas, Washington, D.C, New York, California... Boston. Three weeks time. I checked my diary, resentful of the fact I even had to keep a damned diary now I had to remember my kids appointments as well as my own (which were few and far between). I wasn't free. It was Jade's first night as the lead in a play, I couldn't miss that for anything. She would never forgive me.. It was hard living with her, sometimes. She had loved her father dearly and his death clearly affected her even now. She wouldn't have let me bring a man into her life, even if I had found one. As far as she was concerned I had loved her father, and I couldn't love anyone else. Sweet girl – I hoped her naïveté would never wear thin, when it came to love.
She was a creative girl, already, and I was happy to support her in any endeavours which supported this talent. She danced, she sang, she acted... anything which didn't involve any academic work. She wasn't stupid or anything, she was just happier when she was doing something creative.
I was sad about having to miss this gig, but I had no choice, really.
I pinned the poster up behind my counter, and slipped into the back room with another copy during my lunch hour, putting it up on the wall next to the now faded picture from the paper which I had put up 2 years ago.
Time for lunch, I though, as I reached into the back pocket of my leather trousers to get my cigarettes out.
This was a bad habit, I should probably stop it. But things were different then. Smoking was no big deal. I collected my lighter from the side as I locked up the shop for my much break. Where to go? McDonalds, again.... Pizza from down the road....Chinese from further into town... the list of greasy unhealthy foods stretched out before me were entirely unappealing right now. I decided to take a walk further into town until I found somewhere I could buy a poorly made and expensive sandwich from so I could kid myself that I was eating healthily.
When I returned there was an envelope slid behind the metal grate over the door, I picked it out, carefully, amazed that it had not been stolen. It must have been left recently.
“Nicky” the only word on the crisp white envelope. I opened the door up and returned to my position behind the counter. I went to open the envelope, but a pair of teenage boys came into the shop and I thought better of it. It was always best to watch out when kids came into the shop.
The envelope lay forgotten by the till for the rest of the day, only catching my eye as I went to lock up. I slipped it into my messenger bag as I left the shop.
Another uneventful journey to my in-laws house to pick up my children, who the collected from school every day so I could work till 5 pm. Another uneventful bus journey home with them.
Another uneventful evening. Jade practised her lines, and did her maths homework (begrudgingly) and Craig sat happily playing with his toys in the living room. I, once again, forgot the envelope. Only when I was in the solitude of my bedroom with a shot of whiskey beside my bed did I find the time to open it up.
A letter. My heart raced a little and my eyes moved subconsciously towards the bottom of my bed, where I still kept the letters written to me by my husband all those years ago.

'
Nicky,

I hope you get this. I tried your number but no one picked up. I figured you changed numbers or something. I put you on the guest list for our show here. I don't know your last name, so tell the bouncer “It's Little Nicky, Mr. Rockstar says you should let me in.”. He knows that it will be you. I hope this gets to you, I could only give it to one of the street team and hope you still worked in the same place.
I promised I wouldn't forget you. I hope you didn't forget me.

Joey.'

My heart fluttered and I had butterflies in my stomach, but then the feeling was rather ruined by the fact I remembered Jade's play. I couldn't go to the gig anyway. He would forget me,and I would never see him again. I sat down on the edge of my bed, picking up the shot of whiskey and necking it. Another bad habit.
I let the letter drop onto the floor as I sank into my pillow, with tears running silently don my cheeks. I had learned long ago not to cry aloud. My daughter would question it, and I didn't want her memories of me to be ones of me in tears.
He had meant well but this had just reminded me how rigid my life was. Everything was cast in stone. Even if Jade hadn't been doing her play that night I would probably not have been able to go. I would have had to beg my in-laws to look after the kids, or pay for a babysitter with money I really didn't have.
I must have been pretty shattered, as I awoke on top of the covers and still in my clothes from the day before. I forgot all about the letter, which must have dropped under the bed, as it lay unnoticed for days.
It was, unfortunately, not me who did notice it in the end.
“Mommy, who is Joey?”
I was surprised.
“He's a friend. From when you were little.”
“Why don't I remember him?”
“He lives a long way away, sweetheart.”
“Like on the moon?”
“Almost that far, yeah”
“Wow! Is he an alien?”
I smiled “Uhuh, but you can't tell anyone, it's our secret.”
I hoped my lies would stop any more awkward questions, but unfortunately she was too smart for me to outwit with stupid lies.
“ What is his gig for?”
“He's in a band sweety. Like daddy.”
“Did he know dad?”
“No... he didn't.”
“Do you want him to be like dad?”
“No, Jade. He's just a friend of mine.”
“When can I see him?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Well, I can't see him now, so you won't either, I'm afraid.”
“Why can't you see him?”
“That's enough questions.” I didn't want her to know it was because of her.
“But...”
“...And why were you going through my room, madam?”She went silent. Thank God that had worked, at least, “come on, don't you have lines to go through?”
I was thankful of the fact it was Thursday as I would at least have tomorrow night to myself.
She sighed, and shuffled off to her room to practice her play. I stayed in the living room with Craig. Such was the excitement of my life.
Friday... I got up, dropped my children off at school, then walked the ten minutes it took to get to my shop. No more mysterious notes slid behind the door for me. There were probably a pile of bills on the other side of the door though. I pushed open the door which was a little stiff with age, and turned the sign around to 'open'.
I sat on the old bar stool behind the counter, and began to paint my nails.The inate stuff I did on a long and boring shift here was endless. Fridays were usually relatively busy, though. As I blew the back of my hands to try and dry the nail varnish I walked over to my personal rack of albums which was beneath the till and scanned through them for something to listen to. My eyes settled ruefully on the Slipknot cassette I had purchased after their gig and I decided I would give it another listen. They sure knew how to play.
The music attracted a little attention and I pointed people in the direction of the poster, telling them to go along to the gig. Would they see me there? No... I had other plans.
The day dragged. My loyal and regular customers came and went and the clock ticked on with relentless continuity until, eventually, it was time for me to close the shop. I locked the door and slid down to the ground, relieved to be staying here tonight. First thing was first – I went into the back room and poured myself a large whiskey. A brilliant way to unwind. Next I slipped my boots off. I undid the fly of my tight leather trousers, about to slip them off so I could wear my sweatpants, but I was interrupted by a knock at the door.
I wandered through into the main shop floor.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Nicky? It's me. Joey.”