Saturday 25 May 2013

Lexi - The First Day

Eve is awake.   I know this because I don't think I have yet fallen asleep,  and as I hear her shutting her bedroom door and heading for the kitchen, I hate my body for choosing to feel sleepy now that the alarm clock sound is imminent.   Why couldn't it have realised this 6 hours ago? 
    As I rub my sleepy eyes, I grab my phone like an excited child.   I forgot to text John before going to bed so Whatsapp must be manic.   But there's nothing. Nothing checking if I got home OK.  Nothing telling me he'd wish I'd spent the night with him.  No goodnight. No good morning.

    My heart sinks as my head gets into a wild panic; intrusive thoughts and flashbacks from 7 years ago. Oh no, it's happening again. He's probably leaving me to focus on his career. Or leaving me because he hates the blonde hair. I've scared him off with moving to London so suddenly. Oh, what have I done! 
    Just calm, Lexi.  Everything's fine.  He saw you last night at dinner - he doesn't need to text you every two seconds, I scold myself and instantly I relax taking in deep breaths like some sort of meditation therapy.  I make a mental note to see if there are any yoga classes nearby.  I could probably do with learning how to manage stress.
    I put John to the back of my head as I quickly choose clothes for the first day at my new job and head to the living room where Eve is scanning the wall with a black marker in her hand.
    "Morning," she beams when she sees me emerge cautiously. "I'm thinking one big arch from here...to here," she steps back and ponders her handy work. "What do you think?"
    "Umm," I look over the massive, black, uneven line that she has drawn over our living room wall and don't particularly know how to respond.  "I don't know much about interior design but it seems fine. Will definitely make the kitchen bigger," I shrug as if I ooze optimism, which I don't.  I have a horrible feeling some cowboy builder will come in and knock down the wall, charge us an absolute fortune, and we'll sit back, relax and watch the flat - no, the bulding, crumble on top of us.
    "Yup. I'll get someone to come take a look at this sometime today. Pretty soon it'll be like a brand new flat. Oooh, exciting!" she giggles as she grabs her bag to head for the door. "Oh, almost forgot. I'm meeting a few of my friends tonight after work if you want to join us?"

    I'm about to say no as I'm probably doing something with John, but I don't get the chance. "Please don't feel like you have to say yes but I thought since you're new to London it would be good to meet new people. I know you have your boyfriend, and obviously you and I are going to be the best of friends but it's nice to have variety," and with a genuine smile she says goodbye and leaves. She's a whole world away from Mand.  For one, she doesn't demand that I only spend time with her.
 
The route from the flat to Acton seemed no bother at all.  In fact, I was surprised how quickly I found the building. But the inside of it seemed to be a convoluted maze with doors leading to even more doors.   One minute I'd be on the second floor, the next the ground. In the end I had to pluck up the courage to ask what appeared to be a 14 year old, but actually turned out to be a twenty nine year old IT assistant. 

The morning in the office was great. Only slight hiccup being that my boss cannot seem to   understand that my name is Lexi and not Alexandra. It's like she thinks Lexi is some fake, modern name suitable to a five year old who has a sibling called Saffron, and not for a woman in her mid twenties.  Perhaps I should consider changing it to something people will take seriously.  Maybe I should actually change it to Alexandra.
    "Lexus, we're having a catch up meeting in about 10 minutes if you'd like to join us. It'll be a good introduction into the role," 
    "It's Lexi," I correct shyly for the fifth time that morning.
    "Oh, I'm so sorry," and with a huff she sits down at the desk opposite mine. "Things have been manic here. My Junior Buyer has been signed off sick for six weeks. Some sort of mental disorder. Depression or something, or so she says. I never quite trusted her," she reads an email, curses loudly then carries on. "So as you can imagine, you've joined us at s hectic time," she looks up at me from her screen suddenly worried. "The agency did tell you this would be temporary, right?"
    "Yes, don't worry," I smile.
    "Phew. We've had mistakes like that before," and as she goes back to her work, Melanie fits my exact description of what a successful woman is like. Click clacking heels, yummy mummy routine and a scary look when she doesn't get her way. She's about thirtyfive, slim, with medium brown hair tied up into a smart chignon. She's clearly one of those women who goes to the gym. And I suddenly have a brain wave. I can finally be one of those girls with a gym routine! Eve definitely mentioned about the building having a gym in the basement. When I worked at the restaurant the chef tried to convince me to gain weight to make his food look more appealing. Here, it appears eating is grossly discouraged.
 
The work day finishes in a flash and I have made no new friends.  In fact, no one has even bothered to say hello to me.  I sat next to this woman called Natasha during the meeting and all she said to me was, "Who are you?".  No hint of a smile.  No acknowlidgement when I told her who I was.  Not a thing.  Perhaps friendship is grossly discouraged here too. 
    I say goodbuy to everyone but get nothing back as attempt to leave the office.  I'm in high spirits until I'm faced with the maze again and my head starts to get into a real panic.  The first few doors lead me nowhere - just to other offices, and as I'm about to walk down another set of stairs, I hear a voice.  It startles me so much that I almost trip and fall down the metal, white stairs, but a set of arms catch me.
    "Are you alright?" the voice speaks again, close to my ear.  As I gain back my equilibrium and stand on my own two feet, I turn around to be faced with a stranger; a tall guy with dark blonde, tidy hair wearing a stripy pink and white shirt and beige chinos.  His arms are still out expecing me to fall again.
    "I'm fine," I smile, feeling utterly stupid and embarrassed.
    He moves back leaning against the wall but doesn't say anything.  Just stands there looking at me with no readible expression on his face.  It's now getting even more embarrassing as we stand there staring each other down on the stair case, blue eyes on blue. 
    "You're new," he states breaking the silent war.  I only nod, feeling a little like I'm seven again and the headmaster has told me off for running in the school corridors. 
    "First day.  Working at Goldpinns," I almost whisper.
    "Obviously," he says in a horribly sarcastic tone, which only makes me scunch up my face in surprise.  But he says nothing more, and as quickly as he appeared, he has disappeared again.
    As I finally make my way of out of the building, I begin to wonder if everyone in London is as sour-faced as in the movies.

I've now entered the bar where Eve and her friends are at, but have still heard nothing from John.  My phone has been buzz-free all day which is very unlike it. 
    That's it.  I've ruined it.  This move to London was far too big for him to handle and now he's gone.  He no longer loves me.
    "Lexi, over here," Eve's bright voice waves me over and as I see her and her glamorous friends, I force a smile.  "Everyone, this is my new, gorgeous flatmate," she announces like I'm a prized piece at a fair.  "Come and sit next to me," she orders and I do as I'm told.
    I'm surrounded by four pairs of eyes looking at me like they expect me to say something amazing and profound.  "Hi," is all I manage.
    "Right," Eve starts before finishing off the last of her drink, "Lexi, this is Nick," her manicured finger points to a dark-haired man opposite me.  He smiles and says that it's very nice to meet me whilst his arm is around another girl, "And the lady sitting next to him is Lullah.  Lules is a teacher at my school.  That's how we met and became the very best of friends," she smiles to which Lullah smiles back.
    "We've heard a lot about you this evening.  Very pleased to finally meet you," she tells me.
    "Nick and Lullah are very much in love, you see," Eve continues.  "They met about four years ago at university and have been together ever since.  Very sweet story but I'll let them bore you with it,"
    I smile at the couple again and move my attention to the next person on the introduction list.
    "This is Finn.  Biggest Man Whore of the whole of West London.  No, whole of London.  No, actually.  Whole of England,"
    Finn rolls his eyes, adjust his jacket and hands out his hand, "Pleasure to meet you, Alexis,"
    "Oh, and he calls everyone by their full name.  Highly annoying trait,"
    "Evangeline, you never seize to entertain me," he replies but Eve says nothing.  I get the feeling the group ignore Finn a lot.
    "And last but not least, this is Davina," Eve says in a defeated tone.  "She's new to our group,"
    As Davina stands up, I notice she has the longest legs in the world.  I mean, I would look tiny compared to her Amazonian, model-esque stature.  And I'm not exactly short. 
    "Anyone want a drink?" she asks as she makes her way to the bar.
    I'm about to shake my head, but Eve answers for me, "Yes, get Lexi a drink, and another glass of wine for me, "
    "What drink would you like?"
    "Umm, a glass of white wine please.  If that's OK?"  I reply like a child.
    Davina throws a sickly, sweet smile and struts over to the bar.
    "Like I said, she's new to our group," Eve says when Davina is out of earshot.
    "She's like a model,"
    "Yes, everyone seems to think that," and I get the feeling that Eve isn't as impressed by Davina as everyone else seems to be.  "I don't know," she continues, "she's just...so...so," she stops to think of the word, "blah!"  To which we both laugh.

The evening is filled with wine and conversation and I cannot believe how easily I've fitted in with this group.  I always thought it was harder to meet friends in your twenties and out of school or university, but nope.  Here I am being a social butterfly.  The complete opposite to my life in Winchester where the only socialising I did was with Mand. 
    And John.
    Oh gosh, I almost forgot about John.  Now that he's fully back in my mind I can't think of anything else.
    "You alright?" Lullah asks concerned.  You can definitely tell she's a teacher.  I can imagine her peering over a poorly little kid as they complain of a tummy ache and want their mother.
    "Yes, I reply unconvincingly.
    Lullah is about to ask something else but Davina interrupts her, " Eve, I thought Andrew was popping by,"
    "Err," Eve looks at her watch, then her phone.  "No text from him so he's probably  just working late again.  You know what...oh look, here he is now," and as our eyes dash towards the door, a tall man with dark blonde hair enters the bar.
    Oh no.
    Trust this kind of thing to happen to me.
    It's the guy from the staircase. 

Saturday 18 May 2013

A Case of Drunken Identity

Eyes open to reveal a blur of curtains and wallpaper.  All flowers and stripes, I rub my eyes for clarity to make sense of what appears to be a 1970's bedsit.  After a few more blinks, the scenery in front of me starts to reveal itself.  I'm not in a 1970's bedsit at all.  This is my room.  The curtains turn out to be jeans draped over the shutters, and the flowery wallpaper is wine splodges.  Wine splodges?  No, that can't be right.  How did they get there?
Head is pounding so much now that I'm up and I cannot make sense of any of my thoughts.  Water.  Definitely need water to wash away this horrific taste in my mouth.  What is it?  It's like vodka mixed with Listerine.  Did I brush my teeth with vodka last night?  I attempt to walk over to the door but stumble and fall over a pair of grey underpants.  Umm, now I know those definitely aren't mine.  Men's boxers?  Oh no, who stayed here last night?  Alert and awake I start to look under the covers and under the bed for any sign of another life form.  Nothing in the wardrobe.  Nothing in the laundry basket.  Nothing anywhere.  Phew!  No one's here.  That's good news. 
The door screeches and screams as I attempt to open it.  I have no idea what the time is and I'm fully aware I'm in my own house, but this still feels like the walk of shame.  I tiptoe out hoping my flatmate isn't in, but as I approach the kitchen I hear voices.  And not just her voice.  Multiple voices mixed with laughter and 'Oh my gosh!'.  Great.  They're recounting tales of my drunken escapades meanwhile I'm locked away suffering in a room covered in wine.  What has become of friendship!
It takes me 3 paces to the bathroom to realise that I'm actually only in my underwear.  Like a startled deer, I dash back to my room in a desperate search for clothing.  But I can't find anything appropriate.  It's all organza dresses and glittery tops.  What was I doing in here last night?  A fashion show?  Why are my espadrilles out?  And why the bloody hell are those jeans on the shutters?  Jeans will do.  And so will this glittery yellow top I bought at a car boot sale seven years ago.
Right, second time to leave the room.  Head still pounding.  Breath still Listerine Vodka (perhaps a new marketing promotion for them?).  Memories still non-existent. 
    "Good morning, trouble," Josie, the flatmate sings as I enter the room.  She looks at my outfit up and down and smiles, "You didn't sleep in that, did you?  I thought you were allergic?"
    What?  To a yellow top?
    "Umm, no," I reply unsure of what she could mean.  She clearly misunderstood me.  She must have been more drunk than I was.  Silly Josie.  She must feel like a complete idiot.
    "How did you sleep?" she gets up from the table to put the kettle on.
    "Water,"
    "No coffee?"
    "Water,"
    After three gallons of the stuff, I'm starting to feel slightly better.  Until the third voice rings behind me and I jolt spilling it everywhere.
    "It's like last night all over again," the stranger speaks and I do nothing by stare at him with a blank expression.  At least I hope it's blank.  With my current state it could be anything from mild smile to tears streaming down face.
    Who is this man?  Where did he come from?  Why is he in my kitchen?  Why does his hair smell familiar?
    "Ella, right? Or is it Desdemona?" 
Desdemona?  Oh god.  Now I remember.
Last Night
I'm always partial to a bit of drink.  I'm English.  It's how we've been raised.  But as I sit in the living room sipping on Lemsip, surrounded by dirty tissues as I'm watching Downton Abbey in a onsie, the furthest thing from my mind is going out.  I want to be warm.  Warm, healthy and full of knowledge that Lady Mary and Matthew will definitely get married.
    It is, therefore, completely unbeknownst to me how I ended up at Purple Mustard with Josie shoving another stinky Sambuca underneath my nose.
    "Drink, and you shall be merry," she orders as she downs hers with a smile.
    And she's right, because I do become merry.  It just takes me seven attempts at it.  Next thing I know I'm feeling incredibly brave going up to every guy demanding that they call me Lady Ella, because I'm an heiress who is about to be swindled out of my fortunes by some distant cousin.
    "And he's only a lawyer, you know" I jabber in utter self-confidence.  Faces are looking blank around me - a few pitying smiles as randomers sip their drinks and walk away, but it doesn't dampen my spirits.  In a mix of paracetamol, Strepsils and Sambuca, I truly am an English aristocrat living off my well-earned inheritance.  Now where is my butler with that drink!
    Confused as to why he is nowhere to be seen, I decide to make my own way to the bar, order a dirty martini and casually lean against the cool, metallic table top watching my minions.  I take one sip of my drink and completely miss my mouth.  It all pours across my chest and into my dress.  Quite possibly my bra too. 
    "Should you be doing that in public?" a stranger speaks and I turn but see no one.  Perhaps I'm hearing things.
    "Seriously, should you be doing that in public?" Again?  Where is this voice coming from?  I turn again to be faced with blue eyes and wry smile. 
    "I'm not doing anything," I reply.  It's only when I see his eyes drop down to my chest, that I realise I appear to be fishing out an olive from my bra.  I take my hand out immediately and scorn myself.  This is not how a lady should be behaving. 
    "What's your name?" he asks.
    "Ummm....ummm..." I need a new identity.  After this whole olive-bra incident I can no longer be Lady Ella.  It will bring utter shame to my family.  "Desdemona," I reach out my hand expecting him to kiss it, "Charmed to meet you,"
    "I hear you're a friend of Josie's,"
    "...Yes.  Why?  What has she said?"
    He starts to laugh out loud.  "She hasn't said anything.  She pointed you out earlier and I thought I'd say hello.  I'm Mark."
    "She said, 'Over there is my friend, Desdemona?'"  She knows me far too well if she said that.  We're probably syncing our brains from living together for so long.  It wouldn't surprise me after watching that really cool documentary about mind reading.
    He looks confused.  "No...she just pointed to you and said 'There's my friend!'  Drink?"
    "Yes,"
    "What would you like?"  
    Ah.  I have to have a think here.  What would 'Desdemona' like?
    "I'll have a glass of Prosecco,"  I'm thinking Desdemona is new money.
Josie, Mark and I are now out of the bar, faced with a trail of cabs and drunk pedestrians.  Gosh, all these women have no idea how to hold their drink.  One of them has puke all down her.  At least I had the decency to wait until I was over a toilet bowl.  And I only got a little on the bottom of my tights.
    "It's too far to walk," 
    "Oh, it's only ten minutes, Ell...I mean, Desdemona," Josie says.  "Mark will give you a piggy back, right Mark?"
    "Hop on," he instructs, to which I do.  And fall asleep nuzzled up against his wavy hair.
I'm outside the flat now, with Josie trying to cram the key into the lock.  "It won't fit!" she shouts but I only look on.  I decide to take a break from helping out and sit against the wall thinking about my new life as Desdemona.  God, it could really be great.  People will call me Dessie for short.  Or Mona.  And maybe I'll get a dog.  Dessie definitely sounds like she'd have a dog.  And maybe-
    "Come on, Missy," Mark helps me up and leads me inside.  Excuse me, but it's actually Dessie.
    The three of us are now sitting on the floor of my room looking at the pale, cream wallpaper.  I can't quite recall how we got onto this conversation.  The last thing I remember is Josie telling Mark that I'm single and that he should take me out.  I may have told him he should.  Actually, I may have demanded it.  Unfortunately, I cannot recall his response, but he can't have said no. 
    "It could do with some colour,"
    "Mmm, and possibly some more paintings,"
    "And curtains,"
    The conversation carries on without me, with Mark occasionally asking if I'm OK. 
    "Not if you keep insulting my room!" I reply in a grump.  And then a wonderful idea comes to me.  I'll decorate it right now.  I mean, it can't be that difficult as all I need to do is get some paint pots and test out colours.  They used to do it all the time on Changing Rooms.  Except, I don't have any paint...
    "Jose, what do you think of wine coloured walls?"  I ask her as I wander around the room inspecting the crisp wallpaper. 
    "It's my favourite colour!" she beams and hands me a glass of the stuff.  And I throw it on the wall.
    "Ella, what the fuck are you doing?"  Josie stands up in shock.  Mark is in a fit of laughter.
    I look down at both of them confused at the outbreak.  "What?  I'm seeing if this is a suitable colour to paint it,"
    Josie walks out angrily, but I take no notice.  She's probably just jealous that Mark finds me funny and not her.  He's still laughing.  He laughs a lot.
    "You should get some curtains too," she inputs after he's done.
    What an excellent idea.  I like this Mark character.  I think him and Desdemona shall be very happy together.
    I open up the wardrobe and take out a pair of jeans, then drape them over the shutters.  Wow.  I am such a genius. 
    "That's pretty good," he rises from his place and looks on at my handy-work.
    Josie walks back in with a bottle of vodka straight out of the freezer and a pair of mens boxers on her head.  "I've decided I'm not drunk enough," and takes a big gulp.  I congratulate her on her new hat and go to shut my wardrobe.
    "Wow, that's a very sparkly top," Mark says looking at a glittery, yellow top in the middle of my wardrobe.
    I pull it out and look at it's gleaming glory in the light.  "Yes, it's real diamonds," I tell him in utter seriousness.  My godfather gave it to me as a present.  He was disappointed he couldn't find a diamond encrusted pony for me,"
    "Those aren't diamonds!" Josie pipes up before another vodka sip.
    "What?" I say in mock shock, "well, no wonder I never wear it.  I'm allergic to fake diamonds," and start inspecting the rest of my clothes to add to the reality.  I don't want Mark to think I'm a fraud.  I need to play my part.  Clothes are now being flung all over the room.
Josie has now fallen asleep hugging the grey underpants, and Mark and I are lying down on my bed talking about the squares on the ceiling.
    "I think they came with the house," I inform.
    He rises slightly from the bed and rests his head on his hand.  With a massive grin he's looking down at me like an impressive knight who has rescued his damsel. 
    "You're crazy," he says getting closer like he's about to kiss me.  "You make me laugh so much," 
    Our lips touch very faintly, and for a second I feel like I've been snapped out of my drunken state, but just before he kisses me I realise I've been sick tonight.  And I haven't brushed my teeth. I cannot let this man kiss my vomit covered mouth.  I rise from the bed and grab the vodka bottle that's now resting next to Josie's feet.  I take a mouthful, gargle and spit it out in the bathroom sink.
    "What the hell are you doing?" I see Mark's reflection in the bathroom mirror.
    "I'm brushing my teeth,"
    "...where's your toothbrush?"
    "Vodka's antibacterial,"
    "I still think you need a toothbrush,"
    God, he's completely right.  I grab the pink, bristly brush from the pot and dip it into the bottle.  With utter care, I start to brush my teeth.
    Ten minutes later, I'm done and walk back to my room with a beaming smile.  "I'm ready," I announce, but Mark is fast asleep on my bed.  A little disappointed, I take off my clothes down to my underwear and get under the covers on the space that's left.  I'll kiss him in the morning.
    Still impressed at my amazing interior designing skills, I take a quick look around my room before I turn off the lamp.
    "Night, Jose," I whisper.
    "Nnnn," is all the reply I get from the corner of the room.
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