Chapter Text
It was Friday. Thank fuck, she thought. It had been the longest week and frankly, a long and horrible year so far. She opened her eyes and stretched out, painfully aware of the emptiness on the other side of the bed. The sheets felt cold there as she absent-mindedly ran her hand across them. As she awoke to the day and put her thoughts into place, she spotted his t-shirt, draped across the back of the chair where it always was. Where she used to find it endearing that he left it there it every night and where he’d thoughtlessly left it the last time, without bothering to take it with him. It had been there for 114 days now. More than three months since his cheating had finally been exposed and she’d been forced to face the reality of living without him. She didn’t really know why the t-shirt was still there; every time she looked at it she was reminded. In a weird way the memory of his presence was both painful and comforting all at once, and she hoped that being faced with the essence of his betrayal every morning would help her to realise she was better off without him and be able to move on. But she liked the reassurance of its familiarity in her room.
She stretched again and trudged to the shower, determined not to wallow in her self-pity for a moment longer than necessary. She had noticed the pattern of her mornings shifting whereby she gradually spent less and less time dwelling; things were moving in the right direction. As she let the water run over her she shifted her focus, repeating her affirmation that “today was going to be a good day!” It still made her cringe a bit sometimes, saying this out loud, but that in itself made her smile and bumped her spirits a little. So, really, it was working, right?
Summer was here and the sunshine always buoyed her mood so by the time she came to getting dressed, she was actually feeling pretty cheerful. She grabbed for her favourite blouse, it was just white cotton but had a delicate floral embroidery on the collars and sleeve. She’d picked it up at a market years ago, original 70s, it always made her feel pretty and feminine. She paired it with brown, wide leg trousers and her trusty red converse. Workplace appropriate, but just enough edge to maintain her own sense of personality.
No time to make coffee this morning, she’d pick one up on the way. It was her own little ritual, a Friday morning treat. Smiling to herself in the mirror, she was really feeling herself today, even her long curls were behaving, perhaps she’d wear her hair down – always a risk in the London humidity so she grabbed a band for later, slipping it around her wrist. She picked up her bag she breezed out of the door, popping her Air-pods in and practically gliding down the street to the bus stop. Even the over-crowded morning bus couldn’t bring her down now. When she hopped off at her stop she imagined herself in a music video as she rounded the corner. Passers-by were merely extras, today was all about her. Latte in hand, she drifted along in a world of her own, casually turning her head to admire the display of vintage dresses in the window of Rocka-Rolla as she passed. He would never have cheated on me if he saw me in that! She thought, immediately reprimanding herself for even letting that thought cross her mind, her eyes still taking it in before she snapped back to reality with a hard thud as she collided with a man walking out of the shop and directly face planted straight into him, sending coffee all down her front and soaking through her blouse til it was near invisible (albeit very noticeably brown and stained).
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” he gasped, as he fumbled to pick up the bag he’d dropped. She froze in shock, dripping all over the street and mouth wide opened, dumb-founded.
“Are you ok? You’re not hurt are you?” he asked, his brown eyes searching her face for recognition. She took out her Air-pods and cringed at herself.
“Oh my god,” she mumbled “I can’t believe this…I’m so embarrassed.” As she pulled at her blouse, attempting to lessen its cling to her body and reduce the obvious view of her bra. He gallantly pretended not to notice.
He placed an awkward hand on her arm, attempting to reassure her and not come across as opportunistic.
“Please, don’t be embarrassed, it was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention and I stepped right out in front of you.” He offered, taking on some of the shame for her.
“No, I was distracted and wasn’t looking where I was going.” She flustered, appreciating his kindness and finally looking up to see the concern of his expression, his worried brow deepening over his beautiful eyes as he gently patted her arm.
“I, umm, look, I just picked up a t-shirt in there,” he nodded back towards the vintage shop. “Do you want to, you know, get changed? I’ll buy you a new coffee in there, I bet there’s a bathroom you can use.” He added, gesturing to the coffee shop just ahead of them. “I mean, you can’t spend the day like that!” He smiled, hoping it wasn’t too soon to make a joke of the situation.
She smiled back, starting to shiver in her wet clothes, what other option did she really have? “I…I would really appreciate that, thank you. You really don’t need to buy me a coffee though! Letting me borrow your t-shirt is already going above and beyond.”
“Least I could do.” He said, “Come on, let’s get you sorted.” As he guided her into the café.
Once in the bathroom she peeled her soaked blouse off, attempting to dry herself off with paper towels. She then pulled the t-shirt over her head and attempted to make herself presentable. It was blue, which was definitely her colour, matching her eyes. She smiled to herself then, remembering his kind brown eyes. He was cute.
She returned from the bathroom to find him perched on a seat outside, smoking, his legs crossed and tapping one foot nervously. As she walked out, he jumped up and smiled, pleased with himself for having been able to offer her a solution. Then wrinkling his nose and wincing a little as he took in the image of her with Porno For Pyros emblazoned across her chest. She’d tucked in the shirt and rolled the sleeves. She looked good, but there was no getting away from the logo. He slowly reached out his hand to offer her the coffee, eyes still very firmly on her chest, before collapsing into apologies again.
“I’m so sorry." he said. "It’s a band name, they’re a band.” He nodded at the t-shirt and quickly lifted his eyes to meet hers. She smiled.
“Yeah I know, and it’s ok. I mean, it’s better than this.” She said, pushing her ruined blouse into her bag and graciously accepting the coffee.
“Thanks, for this…” she raised the cup to him “…and, erm, for this?” she laughed, looking down at herself. He laughed in response, glad that she was relaxed enough to see the funny side. “I really do appreciate this, you didn’t have to…” she started as he quickly shook his head.
“No, no, no, honestly, it’s no bother.” He quipped, dismissing the grandness of his gesture. “Will give you a good story to tell at work, right? Where do you work anyway?”
“Middleton High School…” she started
“Oh god.” He visibly cringed again. “I am so, so sorry.” He covered his face with his hands, peeking through his fingers to assess her reaction. “I can’t believe I’m sending you into a school with ‘Porno’ written across your chest!” Much as she felt his concern, she was enjoying how cute he was being about it all and she smiled at him reassuringly.
“It’s the last day of term, it’s going to be feral anyway,” she shrugged. “Maybe they won’t notice?”
He grinned, internally registering just how much any teenage boy would most definitely notice that.
“Listen, if you give me your address then I’ll wash it and send it back to you?” she offered, rooting in her bag and handing him a business card, which he quickly scanned.
Megan White
Head of English
Middleton High School for Boys
“Megan White. Like The White Stripes?”
“Yeah, except I’m not secretly married to my brother…or whatever the rumours were.” He laughs at that and she smiles.
“Definitely good to know.” He quips back.
“I’m sorry to run, I really have to go but my mobile is on there so just text me and I’ll get it back to you. Anytime. I’m always on call.” She hoped that didn’t sound desperate, it was meant with all sincerity though she couldn’t help the words as they came out of her mouth. Was she flirting now?
“Thanks,” he flicked the card between his fingers, “Always on call hey, even in summer holidays?” he joked.
“You never know when there might be a grammatical emergency.” She quipped, swinging her bag on to her shoulder and extending her hand for him to shake. He quickly took it, squeezing gently, “I’m Matty, by the way.”
“Hi Matty, I’m Meg.”
***
She’d been at the bar since 4.30pm. Last day tradition, get the kids off the premises as quickly as possible and abandon all work for the next six weeks. She needed this. It had been a tough year and whilst she still held onto a little melancholy for the way things had been with Dan, she was hopeful that the break would bring her back to life.
As the initial buzz of alcohol kicked in, she felt herself relaxing into the evening. Their large group had begun to fragment into smaller clusters of conversations and after returning from the bathroom she found herself without an immediate opening to join in. She gathered her glass from the table and took up position in her favourite place, in front of the jukebox. She knew the catalogue inside out but still took her time perusing and scrolling, carefully selecting her options. She coveted this bar for its jukebox, one of the few remaining vestiges of a simpler time that reminded her of her student days. Before bars had turned into pseudo-night clubs with dancefloors and DJs. £1 for 5 plays was still the best money you could spend, in her eyes, as she carefully curated her selections.
*Enjoy The Silence – Depeche Mode*
*Making Plans for Nigel – XTC*
*Say Hello, Wave Goodbye – Soft Cell*
*Head Over Heels – Tears For Fears*
“Nice t-shirt.” She hears from behind her and a small tap on the shoulder. She turns around and there he is, Matty.
“Oh, hey, thanks.” She manages, fighting the adrenaline shock of having been bought out of her fixed concentration.
“This you?” he says, gesturing to the air around them, referencing the music.
“Yeah. Is it a bit much?”
“No, it’s awesome. I love Depeche Mode and then, XTC...I was too distracted to listen to my mate.” He smiles and waves across the room to a small table where a tall man waves back before engaging back into conversation with the others. “And then I saw you.” He nods his head towards her with a friendly smile.
“I’m going with something of a dark 80s vibe.” She says.
“That’s my favourite aesthetic.”
“Cool.” She nods, appreciating his enthusiasm. “I still have a credit, if you could choose any Cure song what would it be?”
“Erm, Lullaby?” he offers.
“Thank you. Perfect choice.” She types the code, completing the playlist.
“Dark 80s, hey. Sounds indulgent.” He says. “Been quite the day, hope that wasn’t because…you know…” he looks down to her top and vaguely points to the logo.
“Oh, no. This?” she puts her hands to her chest. “Actually, this was quite the talking point, had a great discourse with some year 9s about the legacy impact of Jane’s Addiction on the American music scene of the late 90s and whether subsequent side projects devalued the authenticity of the original.” She looks at him awaiting a response before continuing. “Joking, of course. No-one really batted an eyelid. At least, no-one said anything to my face. Hard enough to get their focus on the last day of term, even with ‘porno’ on my tits.” She laughs, noting that she was perhaps a little more forward than she would have if she wasn’t already three drinks in. His eyes widen slightly and a smile creeps across his face.
“You know your music, huh?”
“Kinda.” She says, regaining her composure. “I tried to be a music journalist after Uni but, didn’t really work out. You know what they say, those that can do and those that can’t…” She catches herself being self-deprecating and stops. “So, we’ve got to stop bumping into each other like this. What brings you here?”
“I had a meeting, nearby.” He says. “My friends suggested we pop in here on the way home. You?”
“Oh, the classic last day of term release – getting wrecked with work friends. It’s kind of our ‘local’ so to speak.”
“Nice. Well, they play good music in here, that’s for sure.” He smiles.
“Thanks, I’m not sure my colleagues would agree.” She looks in the direction of her group, still all engrossed in their own discussions.
“What do they know.” He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure,” she says. “That’d be great.”
He returns from the bar and they fall into a natural flow, comparing their favourite artists, best albums, songs that have meant the most to them at different times in their lives. It feels incredibly comfortable and familiar. The kind of conversation she’s had with her closest friends over the years and one that builds bonds through a mutual appreciation.
“Ok, ok,” he starts excitedly. “Tell me the best band you’ve seen live.”
“Just one?! I can’t narrow it down that much.”
“Ok, top five.”
“Oh, wow, going to have to think hard here.” She says, pinching the bridge of her nose and dredging her memory banks. “I mean, Sigur Ros for sure, they were awesome.” He hums knowingly in total agreement. “Erm, Explosions In The Sky.” She starts to count them out on her fingers.
“Love them.” He adds.
“Yeah? Saw them in a converted church. I went with a boy I was secretly in love with and he spent the whole night chatting up another girl.”
“What a prick.”
“Right?” she laughs. “I mean, I guess he didn’t know, but still. At least the band were good, clearly good enough if they made this list after that happened!” She shakes her head wistfully at the memory “Oh, oh, Les Savy Fav! They were so much fun!”
“I don’t know them.” He furrows his eyebrows, thoughtfully.
“Really? Oh my god, so much energy, I think you’d really like them. You definitely need to check them out.”
“I will make a point to do that.” He says, thoroughly absorbed and making a mental note.
“I’m struggling to choose now, I mean Death From Above 1979 will always hold a special place in my heart. They have such incredible stage presence.”
“You’re a bit cool, White Stripes.” He says. “I’m pretty impressed. So, what’s your number five?” He’s smiling.
She snaps her fingers and points at him with a satisfied grin, having just stumbled across a definitive answer for her final choice. “Kevin Devine, hands down, I love that man. His voice, it does things to me.” She puts a hand over her heart for emphasis.
“You are so soft!” He laughs.
“Absolutely.” She smiles.
There’s a pause of comfortable silence. She relishes his compliments on her choices and sips her drink feeling the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her mix with the unexpected pleasure that Matty re-appearing has bought to her evening. He is feeling equally pleased, surprised at the connection he has with this stranger, that such a twist of fate has led to such a fun and easy conversation.
He hesitates then and narrows his eyes as if working through a puzzle as the pieces slowly slot together in his head. He looks at her sideways, his finger pressed to his lips, questioningly.
“Do you know that I’m in a band?” he says. His head tilted down, his brown eyes looking up at her in a playful manner.
“Yes…” she says. He smiles.
“And do you like my band?” he asks coyly, desperately hoping for a positive answer.
“Yes.” She says, giving absolutely nothing else away in her response. His smile widens into a grin.
“And does my voice ‘do things to you’?” He goes for the kill, knowing it will make her uncomfortable but hoping to tease a reaction out of her. She blushes and swallows hard.
“I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to answer that question right now.” She says with a small smile and maintaining his eye contact.
“Should I get you another drink and then you can tell me?” He continues, flirting outrageously and determined to make her squirm. He nods at her and slips away to the bar leaving her flushed and tingling at his line of questions.
He returns from the bar and she’s thrilled by his charm and the attention he’s throwing her way. Tonight has turned out far better than she could’ve possibly imagined.
“Meg, come on, we’re going. Jake, Lucy and Emma are at The Electric Blue so we’re going to move over there.” She hears and her friend Hannah is by her side, pulling her sleeve in an attempt to drag her away. Probably thinking she’s rescuing her from an unwanted admirer.
“Oh, I just got another drink so maybe I’ll catch up to you in a bit?” she says.
“Are you sure? I can wait if you want?”
“No, it’s fine, really. I’ll see you later, ok?” And with that Hannah glances from Meg to Matty and back again before shrugging her shoulders in resignation.
“Ok, text me later.” She waves and backs away.
“Will do.”
“Listen, if you want to go with your friends, I don’t mind. I don’t expect you to give up your night because I got you a drink.” Matty says, acknowledging that he’s already monopolised enough of her time.
“No, honestly, I’d like to stay. I want to stay. I’m enjoying talking to you.” She’s quick to reply.
“Good, I’m enjoying talking to you too.” They smile at each other in silence for a second before falling back into their flow.
“So, this Kevin guy,” he says. “What’s so good about him?”
“Kevin Devine? He’s just got a really nice…tone.” She says. “It’s sweet but then it’s got a really rough, husky, grate to it. It’s full of passion, you can really feel his heart through his mouth, you know? And when he sings it’s about issues, real issues. Personal and political. There’s nothing sexier than a man’s voice breaking with emotion. More so, whilst smashing social boundaries.”
“So you’re a political perv? Got it.” He smirks.
“Ha, you got me!” she laughs. He leans in closer to her, close enough that she can feel his breath now against her cheek.
“You know, I do that.” He says. “I’m sweet and I can grate. I also fuck with social norms, I’m all over that!”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” she smiles, raising her eyebrows to him.
“Just saying. I’m not in your top five, I’m competitive.”
“You said, my top five live. I’ve never seen you perform, sorry.” She says, in a matter of fact manner.
“Ok, I’m going to need to quieten this place down immediately and show you what I’ve got because, I deserve a spot.” He says looking around the bar, gesturing in a way to ask everyone to be quiet.
She grabs his arm playfully, resting on his bicep just a beat too long. He looks down and meets her eyes as she glances up. The bar has really filled up now, forcing them to stand closer together, physical space is at a premium and they’d struggle to hear each other over the general noise around them if they weren’t so close. He decisively edges closer still, the distance between them at an absolute minimum, their thighs touching. She bristles at the electrical charge building around them. Surely he can feel the intensity of the moment too? He reaches to brush a strand of hair from her face, delicately edging her jaw line with his fingertips. He leans in to her, foreheads almost touching.
“I think I can feel something…” he says, she takes a breath “…is that your phone?”
“Huh? What, oh my phone! Shit.” She reaches into her pocket to pull it out. Dan flashed across the screen. “Shit. I have to take this, hold on.” She raises a finger, to press pause on the moment, and snakes her way through to bar to reach the relative quiet of the pavement outside.
“Hi.” She says. “Yeah, I know…but I’m out right now, can this not wait until tomorrow? I could…I know that’s what I said. Ok, I know. Fine. Bye.”
She closes her eyes and exhales hard. Typical, she thinks, why now? But events dictate circumstance and she knows she has to go. She turns to re-enter the bar, filled with reluctance and spies Matty making his way out.
“Sorry, I wasn’t following you,” he says, “I just came out to smoke.” He gestures to offer her a cigarette but she waves a declining hand.
“That’s ok.” She sighs. “Look, I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to go.”
“Oh, ok. Everything alright?” he sounds dejected. She feels it too.
“Yeah, I just have to take care of this thing.” She says, looking at the floor with an air of disappointment.
“Grammatical emergency?”
“Right, something like that.” She smiles, recalling their meeting just this morning. “I’ve really enjoyed talking to you though, I’m glad I bumped into you again.” She’s never been more glad of anything in her life.
“Me too.” He smiles back.
“And I’ll get this washed and back to you.” She says, tugging at the t-shirt she’s wearing. His t-shirt. The t-shirt she’d now very much like to keep forever to remember him by, but won’t. “Promise.”
“You’d better.”