I met Iolanthe on day one, week one of my first year at University. We bonded in an instant. Karma, so it would seem. Destiny, if you will. We were the same, like step-sisters from the same ethereal womb. And we were together, both platonically and romantically, for the greater part of that first year.
Of course, this wouldn't be one of my stories if fate didn't somehow enter into the proceedings and royally fuck up everything and everyone, as fate so often does.
Iolanthe, Io for short, wasn't her real name. You'd already guessed that, right? Indeed, I never, ever discovered her real name. I did notice that she never mentioned her natural mother. Not even once. She had no family that we knew of and no place she called home. All I knew was that, upon reaching eighteen years of age, she moved out of her foster home and went to live in a Kibbutz in Israel for three years and, from there, to a flop house in Madrid. That's all she would ever talk about from her past.
Io was a tall, angular woman with a long angular face, as if hewn from a large block of rather disagreeable Maple. At around twenty five years of age, she was older than the rest of our posse. She wore little or no make-up except a small amount of face paint to hide her spots and, on occasion, heavy black eye-liner though that was usually to disguise a hangover, which, in most cases, were truly whopping hangovers. Her hair was her most striking feature - just a mass of dreadlocks than ran all the way down to the middle of her back and sometimes beyond.
I was not Io's only friend. Her other friends included Euro, an impossibly tall and incredibly athletic Amazon. Physically close to perfection, Euro was also an incredible student. Quick-witted and insightful, she was a brilliant conversationalist, and we became incredibly close.
Next, there was Cally. My height. My build. My energy. Like Io and Euro, we were soulmates right from the start. I still talk to Cally. She lives in Chile these days and Facetime is our best friend.
Finally, there was Gany. I never took to Gany. Never liked her, and never had any conversations worthy of recollection. Io was fond of her although I found her shallow, vacuous and rather bland, and why she was in Io's orbit remains a mystery. I won't comment further because she has no bearing on the story to come.
Our group, our cadre, became an essential support system in those first few confusing weeks at University. We were all pretty clueless. None of us had done this before. Few of us had ever been away from home for any extended period and so, in times of stress or worry, when we found ourselves out of our depths intellectually and emotional, our small group of friends provided comfort and support, and kept each other on the straight and narrow.
Our friendship typically took the form of late night chats or early morning runs, cooking sessions, shopping trips or laundry visits. Euro and I would swim together on a regular basis, usually twice a week. Cally would cook. Gany would provide us with the gossip. Io would hold everything together with kind words and witty remarks, usually delivered from behind a veil of cigarette smoke and a glass of wine, sometimes both.
So that was our dynamic during those difficult first few weeks at University.
However, there's one additional character who must take centre stage in this Passion Play, and that's James.
James liked to think of himself as Io's boyfriend although, in reality, he was just an attendant male who had somehow fallen into Io's orbit and either would not or could not let go. He was there when she needed someone to move something heavy and occasionally when someone large and imposing was required to drag an unsavoury male who had outstayed his welcome from Io's bed but otherwise there was no real connection between James and Io.
To this day, I remain amazed that James remained so close to Io. Why didn't he just go find another friend? How he weathered so many of Io's withering remarks and acerbic jibes, and yet managed to appear seemingly indifferent to her poison is a mystery.
James sounds like a Saint, doesn't he? Wrong. One thing about James that you need to know before we go any further. And this is it.
James was a dick.
A total dick. A childish, infantile dick. I say that not out of malice or out of hate or from any negative emotion. He was, and probably still is, a total dick, and he would almost certainly agree because, by his own admission, his dickish-ness was central to his being. He was born a dick and will likely die a dick.
So how did a total dick like James become the subject of one of my missives? Here's how...
This tale had its beginnings on a Wednesday night not long before the exam season. Euro and Cally were off at the library, revising. I'd spent the greater part of the day in my room, working through past papers.
Alas, Io had spent her day either in bed or on the lawns in the local park nursing an enormous hangover of her own making. Home-brewed wine, consumed in vast quantities, has a habit of leaving you near comatose.
So, as stated, I'd spent the greater part of my day in my room, working and I had imbibed so much coffee that I was starting to get the shakes. A spot of exercise was urgently required.
Walking down the corridor in the direction of the main exit, I heard a small thin voice from within one of the bathrooms. I recognised the voice in an instant - Io. I followed the sound and found myself outside of a solid oak door which was ever-so-slightly ajar.
I knocked and entered.
Within, I found Io, submerged beneath a sea of bubbles, one leg hanging over the side of the bath. In one hand, a glass of wine. In the other, one of her unbearable French cigarettes.
"You're taking a bit of a risk, M'Dear," I said. "The lock wasn't on an you have no idea who is walking these halls."
"The lock, darling, is fucked," said Io, smiling. "And has been for some time."
A quick inspection revealed that yeah, the lock was entirely missing.
The room itself consisted of a big, white porcelain bath, Victorian by the look of it, and a crappy wooden chair next to a single, solitary towel rail.
"Pull up a pew," said Io. "Tell me what's going on in your world."
"Just the usual," I said. "Work, work and, strangely, more work..."
I was instantly shocked by the colour of her skin. Usually pale to the point of being iridescent, Io was, instead, lobster red, a consequence of spending so much time outside, on her back, sleeping off another drinking binge.
"Have you done any work?" I asked. "Because you look like you've spent all day underneath a tanning booth."
"I'm fine," she said. "Just stings a bit..."
"You okay?" she fired back, taking an impossibly long drag on her cigarettes. "You look tired."
"I am tired, but I'd be concerned if I wasn't."
Io sat up. "Do me a favour, love," she said. "There's a bottle of bubble bath in my bag. Can you pass it over here?"
I found her bag, had a rummage around inside and withdrew a large pink container.
"Ta," she said as I handed it to her. She unrolled the cap and tipped the entire contents into the water.
"Just in case someone walks in," she said. "Can't see shit with this much bubbles!"
"Anyway, you off out?" she asked.
"Going for a walk," I said. "I need to stretch my legs. My ass has gone to sleep."
"Why not get in?" she said. "Plenty of room. A soak in the tub will make you sleep sounder than tramping the streets. And it's safer too."
Truth be told, I really didn't want to go out walking. I didn't really want to slip into a bath either. I just wanted to get back to my desk and continue working.
"Go on," said Io. "Twenty minutes and I'll kick you out personally."
"What about the broken lock?"
"What about it? There's enough bubbles. So what if someone barges in? What are they gonna see?"
Fair point, I suppose.
"It's mostly women up this end anyway," continued Io. "And the only bloke likely to stick his nose in here is James and he doesn't even count as a bloke these days."
"I thought James was off out boozing tonight anyway," I said. "He finished his exams on Monday."
"Yeah, they were going to that Gentlemen's Club on Dene Street," said Io.
"He'll get skinned," I said. "Those places don't take prisoners."
Io pulled up her knees and patted the water. "Come on," she said. "Plenty of room."
So... I got undressed as quickly as I could, under Io's watchful eye, and slipped into the steaming hot water with as little fuss as possible.
"How come this is so hot?" I asked.
"I keep topping it up with water from a kettle," said Io.
"A kettle? Where?"
"Here," said Io pulling on a power cord.
Err, yeah. You're right. She'd brought a fucking electric kettle into the bathroom.
"Usually James tops me up but, with him being off out, I have to do it myself," said Io.
"When?"
"Just now," said Io. "Just before you came in."
"How?"
"Does it matter?"
"Well, yes. I don't particularly fancy getting electrocuted just before my exams"
"You'll be fine, seriously," said Io. "The circuit breakers will pop out before any major current arrives. Don't worry."
We spent the next twenty minutes discussing the relative merits or otherwise of bringing an electric kettle into the bathroom. Io also claimed that she had recently enjoyed the use of a Brevil Sandwich Toaster and a Slow Cooker, and that nobody had noticed so that made it alright, no?
