The Way That Things Turn Out

I’m lying here wishing I could be honest with you. I’m lying here wishing I wasn’t. The sheet covers your face and I can barely remember what you look like, the night was so ferocious.

What has brought us together? A drink after work, moving onto some drinks after work leading to a lot of drinks after work, staggering over to a cheeky glance. A cheeky glance that marches right up to a dance that stumbles into a kiss and later falls into a taxi back to yours. I don’t love you, I never will, in fact I’m struggling to spot what it was that made me shoot you that look to start with. There must have been something about you surely? Does your father own a brewery? Am I trying to get at your famous sister? Is the sad truth that by that point anyone would have done? I suspect as much and climb out of her bed so as not to disturb you. I sweep my scattered clothes up under one arm and follow the remaining trail of garments down the stairs and into the front room where I dress and discover my hangover as bend to tie my shoelaces. To the kitchen and the sink. I quench my thirst and quickly find some painkillers, which I dispatch with intent. I make to leave but as I pass the lounge, something draws me in and acquaint myself with the sofa. I look around and take in the well-appointed room. Deep reds on the walls blend with satin throws. Photographs of friends, family and lovers, photographs of people who look vaguely familiar. An army of well-chosen video tapes, a welcoming rack of compact discs. Books that I have read, books that I always meant to read. Vaguely aware that I am hungry, I decide to check out your fridge. Can you tell what someone is like based on the contents of their fridge? I suspect not. Take my fridge. Pesto, peaches, pizza (olive and prawn), milk and Parma ham. Take your fridge. Peanut butter, Parmesan cheese, potato salad, milk, and pretzels. Nothing in common but milk so I make some tea and hand it to you as you wander into the kitchen bleary eyed and bedraggled.
“Thanks.” You stop yourself. “I didn’t expect you to be still here.”
“Neither did I.”
“Why are you then?”
“I don’t know,” I say nervously, ”Can I stay for a bit?”
“Ok, just clear up after yourself and make me laugh once in a while,” you smile, “Don’t worry I guess this is just the way that things turn out.”