Saturday morning was not good. Saturday morning was very bad. Very, very bad.
I woke late, but still way too early for my head. The light was streaming through the curtains I'd forgotten to pull. I was face down. My duvet was half on and half off and one leg was hanging over the side. My head was on the point of implosion and my stomach felt like a tumble dryer full of bricks. I refused to lift my head. I thought that if I lay still enough, I may just go back to sleep, or better still, die.
I heard a noise in the kitchen. I considered that I should get up. My clock said it was 11. I never slept to 11, but then again, I never drank to 3. I pushed myself up and my movements were slow and painful. I needed the toilet and I needed a drink. I couldn't just lie there anymore. That sucked. To add to the head and guts, every joint ached, so movement hurt. The combined effect was like I'd spent the night getting beaten up and then for good measure a badger had a shit in my mouth after he'd been eating raw garlic all day.
I looked in the mirror and the make-up fairy had missed me out. I was smudged and smeared, and my hair was, let's say, unfashionable. At least I'd managed to get undressed. I could tell that by my jeans chucked into one in one corner, my blouse over a chair and my underwear in various random locations. I could see one shoe. No idea where her friend was. Today will be difficult, I thought.
I pulled on sweatpants and my dressing gown and dragged a box of make-up wipes across my face. I went to the loo and shuffled into to the kitchen. Alli was making coffee.
"Morning..." I said.
"Morning..." she said back not looking up. Ahhh, I thought, a fellow sufferer.
She turned round and gave me a cup. Bless, even when feeling like death she always thought of others.
"You look like absolute shit, Sal. And believe me I have waited almost two years to be able to say that. You are a fucking mess." She smiled and hugged me with a slow, pained movement. I stood limp in her arms holding the coffee.
"Thanks, honey, I appreciate your honesty. If it makes you feel any better, I feel like shit too."
"You and me both."
We sat on the sofa and blankly watched a Saturday morning cookery show. I rested my head against her shoulder and hoped that sleep may take me, and the pain would disappear. The damned coffee was doing its work though. I was awake for the day. Sarah joined us and sat on the armchair; her legs curled under her.
"That was a great night!" she said, in an all too chipper voice as she cradled her tea.
I nodded. So did Alli.
We sat the whole morning working our way through pots of coffee. I still felt terrible but being with best friends made it comfortable. We laughed about the evening and I nearly peed my pants when Alli admitted she'd given the guy from the club who thought we were lesbians her number. He was called Colin and was on her History course.
"You do know what he is expecting, now, don't you? Him and us.... doh! It's like every boy's dream!"
Alli gasped in horror. She genuinely hadn't thought of that. He sent a text that morning to her too and that just set us off again. She was going to meet him for coffee. Alli took the ribbing well and laughed with us.
Sarah had good news. She had chucked her boyfriend. Something twigged in her head about a girl she knew, texted her last night and got a response this morning. He was shagging them both. Neither knew. So, in synchronised texts he got dumped twice that morning. Alli and I had front seat tickets for the pathetic nonsense he came back with. Alli disapproved of dumping by text, but she made an exception for this dick.
"As Sal said, he's a..." She was building up to saying something.
"Go on Alli, you can say it, go on..." I egged her gleefully.
"He's a CUNT!" Alli shouted it out and we roared with laughter. She looked ever so pleased with herself.
As for me, I had nothing to say about my relationship life, love life, sex life. Nothing. As they talked, I asked and gave my opinion (I'm good that way) but would carefully avoid and steer away anything that came near my feelings about anyone or anything. I simply didn't have any.
That wasn't strictly speaking true. Even as I sat there, Angela kept popping into my head without being asked. Our encounter had been a genuine erotic connection, but there was more to it than that. There was more to her than that. There was something about her. Something about the way she spoke, or looked at me or moved, or led me by the hand to her bed. I wanted to banish these thoughts; they served no purpose at all.
My alcohol weakened defences were useless. She kept finding a way in. She was always smiling. Sometimes she was looking at me and sometimes she was in the middle of sexual delight. I couldn't empty my head of her.
As I sat with my friends laughing through our hangovers, my mind was always drifting back to her. I wondered if Angela had a hangover that morning. Does Angela get hangovers? Who does she laugh it through with? I pictured her curled up with a coffee. Her red hair tied up and her skin fresh and Scottish sun pale. I pictured her looking at me. I pictured her handing me wine, smiling at how naughty she was being. I pictured her in orgasm.
It was easier to just give in and pretend to myself there were no complications whatsoever, like the fact she paid for me to pleasure her. Although I felt like death, I was with two people I loved and who loved me, watching shit TV on a Saturday morning. In that security I could pretend to myself that it was ok to have feelings for someone. For Angela. I knew that was dangerous and pointless, but oh so easy in that moment, and I hadn't the energy to fight it off.
I smiled at the thought of her.
That little daydream was quickly dismantled by my reality.
Alli and Sarah went to the Kitchen to make more toast and coffee, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket. It had vibrated with a message five minutes before and I was desperate to check it. I could only imagine it was Angela, desperate to connect with me somehow after our time together.
I opened WhatsApp immediately. It was from Harvey.
Oh, Fuck. I remembered immediately. I had an appointment later. My heart sank. Oh, boy.
"Sal, I hate to do this and of course, if not possible just that's ok. But...any chance we could move the appointment today from 5 to 6.? I'm coming back from Somerset and the train has been delayed. So sorry...! Harv"
Fuck.
There was no way I could face a geek today, and sweet Harvey had just offered a way out. That worked well. The idea of giving head made me want to heave. I thought if I bent my head forward, I would throw up, let alone what would happen if I then were to put anything in my mouth. I had no intention of vomiting on a geek lap. I was about to text back and cancel when Sarah and Alli came back in. I put my phone away quickly. They put the toast down and Sarah was opening the mail.
"Bad news bitches". Sarah looked after the flat bills and rent and whatever else came in. She was good at it and Alli and I were permanently grateful. Flat admin was a thankless shared living task.
"Gas, leccy, rent and oh, fun fact, the TV licence is due."
We groaned. That was my reality check. I was still financially always on the edge. My mind went to Harvey, and I knew I would have to go through with it. The boy would have something to look forward to all the way up from the country. I would let him know that six was good. Fuck this shit.
As for thoughts of Angela, my little sepia world was drifting away, and the downer effect of booze leaving my system was doing its work. That was an appointment last night, she paid me for it and later on today someone else would pay me for my extraordinary oral sex skills. There was no erotic, or any other kind of connection.
I cursed that bitch fun, party, drunk Sally for leaving me with this to deal with when I had a dose of the hangover blues. I felt pretty stupid at allowing my defences down for those 10 minutes when I indulged my never-will-happen sapphic fantasy.
Oh Sally, I thought, what are you doing to yourself. Just simplify things. Forget her.
I leaned into Alli and focussed on the TV. She put her arm around me. Alli was so amazingly lovely that even though I hadn't said anything she knew I needed a hug. Sarah put Netflix on and as the titles popped up with "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia", we all mumbled back to the TV in unison with our little flat ritual.
"It always fucking rains in Manchester!"
I looked out the window. It was. I wanted to go back to bed.
Sarah and Alli were both studying in their rooms later that afternoon, so slipping out for the appointment required no fabrication. I frankly didn't have the energy for lying anyway. Doing a different course from my flatmates was another one of those little things that helped me maintain my house of cards double life. They had no real idea of my schedule and they were often busy at convenient times for me. It was useful, but I hated lying to them.
I gathered up every ounce of energy my little body possessed to make Harvey's half hour exceptional. I was good at customer service. I even let him fondle my tits as a definitely-one-off-special because he'd had a hard day. He was incredibly grateful. I suspected that this add-on service would move things along more merrily than usual and I wanted done quickly. I was right. Poor guy looked overwhelmed with desire and probably broke some land speed record. I momentarily considered that a bit of fondling wasn't too hard and brought time efficiency to my service, so, maybe I could introduce more widely? No way - that was a slippery slope to go down. Angela only. Yup, still in my head.
The evening was more slumping in front of the TV and early to bed. I was exhausted. I sat propped up (make-up off this time, clothes put away and clean sheets on) and stared at my phone screen. More specifically I stared at the message thread from Angela. I knew what I was doing was so desperately unhealthy. I knew she was a client and not a lover. I wanted a message from her suggesting coffee, or a drink, an appointment. Better still a 'we gotta talk', and some way of moving to something more...more... well, just more.
