Scott pissed into the toilet as I unrolled my money and shoved it deep into my pocket. We left the cubicle and washed our hands, I cooled my face and my balding head with some of the cold water as Scott touched his hair whilst staring into the mirror.
‘And this job, what’s the crack exactly?’ he asked.
‘It’s selling property, or timeshare, or something like that,’ I replied, a little embarrassed at the fact I didn’t know exactly what I was going to be doing in Spain. ‘It’s not important, anyway. I just need a change of scene. I want a change of scene. It’ll do me good, you know?’
He nodded, maybe in thoughtful agreement, maybe because he didn’t know what to say. But then he did say something.
‘So you’re gonna come back a changed man,’ he stated, hopefully.
I smiled.
I liked the thought of that, coming back a changed man, no longer having to shoulder the weight of being an underachiever, to come back a winner, and proud, and happy, and drug-free.
‘It’s like you can read my mind, Scott.’
‘I’ve just known you too long, mate.’
We high-fived, then for some reason he gave me a hug. Maybe he was sad to see me go, but more likely he was incredibly high and we all get a bit soft when we’re steaming.
‘Worst case scenario, you’ll be back in three weeks like that muppet out there said,’ he said.
‘Is this a private party?’ asked Dave.
Scott let me go and we turned to see Dave’s head stuck through the men’s room door.
‘And who you calling a muppet?’ he continued. ‘Come on girls, finish your cuddle, we got a line of Sambuca’s on the bar.’
We had our shots, then more beers, then more shots, and so on. Occasionally we’d visit the men’s room for business as usual and we were just having a good time. Good fun, bad jokes and the occasional rejection from below average women.
We were all sat back at the table watching Tommy, who stood at the bar with a couple of heavily made-up teenagers, borderline illegal drinkers, when Dave piped up.
‘Boys, watch,’ he said, before vomiting into his pint glass, then continuing to drink from it, and then stating as a matter of fact, ‘I’m a fucking legend.’
Lee covered his mouth in horror as me and Scott creased up in laughter. Tommy had noticed from the bar and tried his best to look like he didn’t know us, which didn’t work for long as Scott stood up and joined him and the two girls.
Tommy bowed his head, shamefully, as Scott whispered into the ears of the blondest of the two blondes, who reacted swiftly with a hasty slap across his face. She grabbed her friend by the arm and they both left. Scott laughed and apologised to Tommy, who shrugged it off as standard behaviour and gulped down the rest of his beer.
I wouldn’t change them for the world, my friends. It’s me that has got to change.
‘I’ll enjoy tonight, but from tomorrow I’ll be the new me. The new improved, sensible, sober, happy me who achieves things and makes his family and friends proud,’ I thought to myself, before I sneaked off to the toilet, locked the door on the cubicle, sank to my knees and puked.
2 — FAMILY
The four of us were sat around the small, dining table at the back of the living room. My sister, Esther, and her son, Finley, had joined me and my mum, Charlotte, for a roast dinner.
Esther was a good looking woman, a few years older than me, but a little tired looking from the stress of bringing up her boy on her own. Finley was great though, and you could see the bond between them was something special, even if he did test her patience at times.
‘Thanks mum,’ said Esther, ‘that was great,’ as she laid her knife on fork down on her empty plate.
‘It was more of a team effort, to be honest’ mum replied, smiling at me.
‘Then thank you, too, James’ she said, ever so slightly sarcastically, knowing by the clear signs of a hangover written all over me, that I likely played a very small part in the preparation of any food.
‘No problem.’
Finley used his knife to roll around the remains of his dinner, which was all his vegetables, as me and my mum finished what was left on our plates.
‘Finish your food,’ Esther snapped at Finley, bored at having the same situation play out whenever he didn’t fancy eating the healthy part of his meals.
My mum stood and stacked her, mine and Esther’s plates then took them out to the kitchen.
‘Hey Jimmy,’ called Finley, ‘look.’
I looked to my side and saw my nephew using a stick of carrot to simulate smoking a cigarette.
‘Eat your bloody food, Finley,’ Esther snapped, ‘or you’ll get no dessert. I mean it.’
Esther was stressed more than usual today. Partly due to me leaving, I think, worrying about the trouble I may get into whilst away, without her or my mum being there to bail me out of trouble. But also she was worried about mum, who was really worried about me. There was a giant vacuum of worry circulating and it seemed to be entirely my fault. Which to be honest, it was.
‘This is killing her, you know?’ A statement and question all rolled into one.
I nodded, with a slight shrug of my shoulders to boot. What could I say? I felt like I needed this, and my mum and Esther were meant to be the strong ones, how come I’m the only person who didn’t seem to think my trying pastures new is a bad idea? Other than Finley, of course, my darling nephew who thinks the proverbial sun shines from my backside, bless him.
‘Have you decided how long you’ll be away yet?’ she asked, ‘I can’t be here all the time checking on her, I’ve got this little brat to look after. This better not be just some extended boy’s holiday.’
‘It isn’t.’
‘Always drinking, and shoving that shit up your nose.’
‘Mummy, you swore!’ said Finley, giggling away at his mum’s loss of control.
‘Quiet, Finley,’ she said, turning her attention to the apple of her eye, ‘take your plate out to your nan.’
‘But I haven’t finished my vegetables,’ he answered.
‘Just take your plate to nanny and ask for a bowl of ice-cream.’
Finley slipped down off his chair, picked up his plate, walked around the table, and gave me a wink when Esther wouldn’t have been able to see. I love my nephew, cheeky little sod that he is.
‘Listen, Es, I know I got problems. I know it’ll upset mum, me not being ’ere. And I know I gotta get off the gear, once and for all,’ I said, truthfully and open-hearted, as is the only way when speaking to someone who knows you better than you know yourself, ‘but to do that, I need a change of scenery. I need to get away from here. Like a fresh start, even if just for a couple of months.’
I think Esther knew deep down that it wasn’t a completely bonkers idea, drastic action to cause a drastic change. The craziness of it almost made it seem like a good idea, the more I thought about it, anyway.
‘Just, as long as you sort yourself out, James.’
She reached across the table and placed her hands on mine, a big sister who has seen her little brother make more than his fair share of mistakes, and looked me straight in the eyes, to give me another one of those serious messages that she’d have to convey to me every now and again in my life.
‘Get clean, James. Just, get clean.’
Esther and Finley had left not long after eating, the day was drawing to a close and lately she was enforcing Finley’s bedtime as never before, adamant that showing him who’s boss would give him a bit of stability, and maybe a bit of direction in life at a later date. It crossed my mind that this was the sort of disciplined upbringing that we lacked as kids, although I didn’t say anything to her or mum, of course. Besides, Esther turned out alright, so it would be unfair to put any blame on my mum for my shortfalls.