For Fair Love
four
A month’s past since my injury and I’m finally able to walk without my crutches. I’ve been put off the team because Coach Jack keeps saying he doesn’t want me to end up like him. Sad. I try to refrain myself from watching football on the tele so I don’t feel like a dead person watching people live.
When Jack helped me get admitted at the community hospital, he asked for my number to keep in touch and see how well I’d recover. I appreciated his concern. I felt more honoured than anything. What’s odd is that he’s still contacting me on a regular basis. It would be just a ‘hello’ and a ‘how are you’. I feel obligated to answer every time. Then it would be ‘what are you doing’ or ‘are you busy’… And other things…
“Um, I’m not busy,” I say.
“I feel like going out for a drink. Care to join me?”
I grimace my face on my side of the phone, unsure of everything about the universe.
“I—“
“I can come round and pick you up,” he goes on.
My eyes glance to the old ticking clock on the wall. It’s pretty late.
“Um. Alright,” I say, because I can’t really say anything else.
In a few minutes, I hear a rasp knock on the door. Grans is sleeping in the back room. I open it and see Jack standing there in a jumper and jeans. He smiles and I smile back. Maybe I should tell him I changed my mind and I don’t really want to go anywhere with him. But, he’s already standing at my door. And he’s Jack Wilshere. I can’t say such things.
He takes me to a bar all the way in Manchester. I don’t question him. I don’t find that kind of courage during this hour-long drive. He brings me inside and I watch people left and right. He orders me a drink, though I don’t touch it. We small talk by the bar for a while, which doesn’t seem too bad.
“You don’t like your drink?” he asks through the noise of the people around us.
I faintly smile, “I’m not much of drinker…”
The most alcohol I’ve consumed was champagne at weddings, or a can of beer at a house party, or when I spend the night a Lily’s and she opens her father’s liquor cabinet.
“You haven’t even tried it,” I chuckles.
“Well…”
“I’ll get you a Coke if you like.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I say, taking the glass in my hands.
I can’t have him spending another dime.
I take a few sips.
The moment I snort in my laugh, I realize I’ve had too much to drink. Things become fuzzy and the top of my tummy is warm. Everything that comes out of Jack’s mouth seems funny. I feel my body lazy itself. I’m practically slouching in my seat. There are less people around. Jack, who I assume is drunk too, wraps his arm around my shoulder. I feel discomfort, but I shrug it off. I try to find some kind of composure and move out of Jack’s arm.
“I’d like to go home now,” I tell him, feeling the emptiness of the bar.
He nods, “Sure. I’ll pay. You can meet me by the car.”
I hop off my chair and stumble out the door. My eyes catch a familiar set of curls, but my vision is too blurred, so I walk on. I wait by the car for a few minutes, not feeling so well. The aftermath of my drinking is starting to have its effect. Slouching hurt my back, so I lean on his car, which makes my eyelids fall. I take deep breaths and smell Manchester at 3am.
Suddenly, I feel pressure over my body. Pretty soon, I open my eyes and see Jack pressing me against the car.
“You look quite nice,” he slurs.
The strong smells of his breath disrupts me.
“Get off me,” I say, uncomfortable again.
He leers, “You don’t seem to like me.”
“I just want to go home now, that’s all,” I say, using my little strength to push him away.
But he pulls me closer to him and begins touching me.
“Stop, you! Get off,” I plead.
I can’t get my head on my shoulders. I’m so confused and disoriented. All I know is I don’t like where this is going.
“Eh! Let go!” I almost scream, pushing him more, “No, I don’t like you. I don’t like you at all.”
His hands freeze me over.
Suddenly, I hear a deep voice spring up.
“Hey!”
I look up and see… H-Harry?
Harry grabs Jacks shoulder, ripping him off of me. I finally can breathe.
“I believe I heard her say stop,” he tells Jack.
I stay frozen. I don’t know what to do.
Jack violently brushes Harry’s hand away.
“What’s it to you?” Jack asks, drunk.
Before he can finish, Harry blows a loud punch at him. I gasp and watch him fall to the ground. I cover my mouth, shocked out of wits.
“What are you doing?” I ask, through my hands.
I’m not sure who I directed the question to. Harry looks at me and takes me by the hand.
He nods, “Let’s get you out of here.”
I barely follow Harry. I focus on massaging my throbbing head and put one foot in front of the other. I watch Harry stand by a door and unlocking it.
“What were you doing with a guy like that all the way down here, Chas?”
Oh, he remembers me.
“Mm,” I moan and close my eyes again.
When Jack helped me get admitted at the community hospital, he asked for my number to keep in touch and see how well I’d recover. I appreciated his concern. I felt more honoured than anything. What’s odd is that he’s still contacting me on a regular basis. It would be just a ‘hello’ and a ‘how are you’. I feel obligated to answer every time. Then it would be ‘what are you doing’ or ‘are you busy’… And other things…
“Um, I’m not busy,” I say.
“I feel like going out for a drink. Care to join me?”
I grimace my face on my side of the phone, unsure of everything about the universe.
“I—“
“I can come round and pick you up,” he goes on.
My eyes glance to the old ticking clock on the wall. It’s pretty late.
“Um. Alright,” I say, because I can’t really say anything else.
In a few minutes, I hear a rasp knock on the door. Grans is sleeping in the back room. I open it and see Jack standing there in a jumper and jeans. He smiles and I smile back. Maybe I should tell him I changed my mind and I don’t really want to go anywhere with him. But, he’s already standing at my door. And he’s Jack Wilshere. I can’t say such things.
He takes me to a bar all the way in Manchester. I don’t question him. I don’t find that kind of courage during this hour-long drive. He brings me inside and I watch people left and right. He orders me a drink, though I don’t touch it. We small talk by the bar for a while, which doesn’t seem too bad.
“You don’t like your drink?” he asks through the noise of the people around us.
I faintly smile, “I’m not much of drinker…”
The most alcohol I’ve consumed was champagne at weddings, or a can of beer at a house party, or when I spend the night a Lily’s and she opens her father’s liquor cabinet.
“You haven’t even tried it,” I chuckles.
“Well…”
“I’ll get you a Coke if you like.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I say, taking the glass in my hands.
I can’t have him spending another dime.
I take a few sips.
The moment I snort in my laugh, I realize I’ve had too much to drink. Things become fuzzy and the top of my tummy is warm. Everything that comes out of Jack’s mouth seems funny. I feel my body lazy itself. I’m practically slouching in my seat. There are less people around. Jack, who I assume is drunk too, wraps his arm around my shoulder. I feel discomfort, but I shrug it off. I try to find some kind of composure and move out of Jack’s arm.
“I’d like to go home now,” I tell him, feeling the emptiness of the bar.
He nods, “Sure. I’ll pay. You can meet me by the car.”
I hop off my chair and stumble out the door. My eyes catch a familiar set of curls, but my vision is too blurred, so I walk on. I wait by the car for a few minutes, not feeling so well. The aftermath of my drinking is starting to have its effect. Slouching hurt my back, so I lean on his car, which makes my eyelids fall. I take deep breaths and smell Manchester at 3am.
Suddenly, I feel pressure over my body. Pretty soon, I open my eyes and see Jack pressing me against the car.
“You look quite nice,” he slurs.
The strong smells of his breath disrupts me.
“Get off me,” I say, uncomfortable again.
He leers, “You don’t seem to like me.”
“I just want to go home now, that’s all,” I say, using my little strength to push him away.
But he pulls me closer to him and begins touching me.
“Stop, you! Get off,” I plead.
I can’t get my head on my shoulders. I’m so confused and disoriented. All I know is I don’t like where this is going.
“Eh! Let go!” I almost scream, pushing him more, “No, I don’t like you. I don’t like you at all.”
His hands freeze me over.
Suddenly, I hear a deep voice spring up.
“Hey!”
I look up and see… H-Harry?
Harry grabs Jacks shoulder, ripping him off of me. I finally can breathe.
“I believe I heard her say stop,” he tells Jack.
I stay frozen. I don’t know what to do.
Jack violently brushes Harry’s hand away.
“What’s it to you?” Jack asks, drunk.
Before he can finish, Harry blows a loud punch at him. I gasp and watch him fall to the ground. I cover my mouth, shocked out of wits.
“What are you doing?” I ask, through my hands.
I’m not sure who I directed the question to. Harry looks at me and takes me by the hand.
He nods, “Let’s get you out of here.”
I barely follow Harry. I focus on massaging my throbbing head and put one foot in front of the other. I watch Harry stand by a door and unlocking it.
“What were you doing with a guy like that all the way down here, Chas?”
Oh, he remembers me.
“Mm,” I moan and close my eyes again.