Bewitched
There was a hand on Jenna's shoulder, too close for her eyes to focus so that it overlapped itself like a shadow. She blinked and turned slowly towards the voice.
"Can you hear me, darling? What's your name?"
The face hanging over slowly resolved itself into some degree of clarity: round, made even rounder by the tight pixie cut, concerned and kindly. She tried to sit up, which made the world buck viciously about. There seemed to be some sort of wall behind her; she pushed her shoulders to the bricks to steady things.
"Jenna."
"OK, Jenna, I'm Siân. Are you alright?"
Of course she wasn't, she seemed to have collapsed. Her mouth tasted foul and her face felt weird. It took a moment to realise she had been sick. That was great, there was this cute girl being sweet at her and she had vomit down her front. She struggled to her feet, letting Siân's hand steady her from in front as much as the wall did behind. They were in an alley. In fact they were in the alley at the side of that pub. How had she got back here?
Why
had she got back here? She was never going to do that, was she?
Siân stepped back, letting her try to balance on her own but arms ready in case she toppled over again. She felt like she was in a centrifuge, the floor spinning so madly it held her on her feet. She looked down her front and realised it could be worse, she was enough of a mess to feel ashamed but not such a reeking disgrace she couldn't get a taxi.
"Thanks. I'm ... ummm ... feel a bit weird."
She was embarrassed. If she was actually aware of being embarrassed, she couldn't be really pissed. She took a deep breath and concentrated. She wasn't acting drunk, was she? Bloody strange. She didn't remember putting these clothes on either. Except she did, but that must have been almost a fortnight ago. She looked up and saw Siân watching her from the other side of the alley, with a look that was midway between concern and a rueful acknowledgement of having been there herself at some point.
"Probably ought to get you home, yeah."
They found a taxi, whose driver gave Jenna a cautious look but let her in anyway. She concentrated very hard, managed to remember and clearly recite her own address, and then subsided into the seat leaving Siân to field casual comments. When they arrived, Siân gave the driver a cheery 'coupla minutes, boss', then supported Jenna up the path and waited for her to get the door open before disappearing into the night.
Jenna blundered into the kitchen to drink some water from the fridge, which immediately made her legs weak and reminded her how much she needed to pee. It wasn't until she was sitting on the loo that the various jigsaw pieces wafting about in her mind settled themselves into one picture. She dug her phone out of her pocket and stared at the screen for a long time.
There was milk in the fridge. She checked the use-by date, then tentatively opened it and took a cautious sniff. She drank a little. Perfectly fresh. She sat on the sofa, switched on the telly and found a news station. She seemed to be stuck in a very convincing facsimile of Friday before last, but to be honest she was too damned tired to try making any sense of it.
She must have got up from the sofa, because she woke up next morning in bed. Her head was tender and her mouth disgusting, she was grubby-dirty all over, but she wasn't quite as hung-over as she should be from the state she had been carried home in. The radio continued to assure her it was Saturday, so she forgot work and took a very long shower, reflecting that when she found somewhere permanent to live it needed a bath. It
was
Saturday, there was no getting round that. The whole shambles, from bumping into Lynsey to sobbing her heart out on the pavement outside, must have been some elaborate and involved dream as she passed out.
It was incredible, how long had she been there? Surely only minutes, and yet she seemed to have lived through almost a fortnight. No she hadn't, huge chunks were entirely missing. She couldn't remember anything mundane or everyday. She could still feel the sick fear of going in to work on Monday, but now she realised she never had; there was a sudden jump from Sunday afternoon to Wednesday evening. She had thought, even as it was happening, that her own dreams and needs were turning on her; had there been anything at all that wasn't already in her mind? Any act that she hadn't fantasised about before; any person she hadn't already seen? Well there was Lucy, but other than that? When had she passed out? How much of that conversation had happened; had any of it? There was one thing more she needed to check up on. The only thing that truly mattered, and the one that she needed to confirm but was scared to even think about. She wrapped a towel around herself and picked up her phone.
"Hello Liz, how's things?"
The voice on the other end sounded a little puzzled, not resentful but simply curious at being rung at nine on a Saturday morning to be asked how she was.
"Fine. You alright?"
"Err, yeah. Sorry, I got a little drunk last night - a lot drunk actually - and I've got this vague feeling I was talking shit to someone over the phone in the early hours. Hope it wasn't you."
"Not me, Jen. I was fast asleep."
"You're sure? You're not just saving my blushes?"
"I promise you, nothing to apologise for."
"Thank God for that. Have you got any plans tomorrow?"
"Not really."
"Fancy coming over and let me cook you something? Apology for what I thought I'd done wrong."
Her mouth was outrunning her brain, better stop that before she said something really stupid and difficult to explain.
"Well it's hardly necessary, but it sounds fun. Lunch or dinner?"
"Whichever you prefer. Oh Liz, do you know a girl called Lynsey? About my age, nurse, gorgeous?"
She could hear the smile in Liz' voice, even over the phone.
"Doesn't ring any bells, but I'm out of touch these days. Did you have an enjoyable evening?"
"Never you mind. I'll see you tomorrow."
Jenna pulled on some clothes and made her reluctant way to Sainsbury's and the shopping that would only get more unpleasant the longer she left it. By the time she got off the bus and toted her bags home, she was shattered. She collapsed on the sofa with a cup of tea and tried to think the whole thing through. It was bloody weird, as weird a thing as had ever happened to her. She'd never been much for recreational drugs, she didn't exactly have experience to go on. Had someone spiked her Sea Breeze? Or was it just the stress of so very long finally letting up just enough for her to snap? It had all seemed so real, and so long. Alien abductions were like that, weren't they - days apparently passing when there were only minutes unaccounted for. Or was it the other way round? She couldn't remember which. She had always thought the whole business about being carried off, strapped down and probed every which way was just weird frustrated sex dreams bubbling to the surface. If she was losing her mind, at least she was skipping the little grey middlemen. Her doorbell rang.
