1 How it all started.
My life is just peachy. It is not really
great at the moment. I have a job in a newsagent’s in Dublin and in my spare
time I write books. Other than that I do nothing. Nothing exciting that is. I
dream of being a great writer one day, but so far, that dream is so far away I
can’t even see it through clouds of rejections from publishers. I have a stack
of rejection papers from publishers as high as my coffee table, but that
doesn’t hold me back. I know I will make it one day, maybe the time just isn’t
right.
It all started when I wrote articles for an
online paper. People were very enthusiastic about what I wrote and about what I
still write, because I haven’t stopped writing, but publishers don’t seem to
share my opinion. Looking for inspiration is not very difficult, but writing a
book is very different from writing stories for a newspaper. I just have to
keep trying to write this one masterpiece.
I keep to myself a lot. My mother comes over
to my house sometimes to see if I’m still alive. She is so sweet. I should
visit her more often. I should tell her that I really appreciate what she does
for me. It must be difficult for her to have a daughter who is so unsuccessful
in life. If it wasn’t for her, I would survive on bread and peanut butter,
because I don’t like to cook for myself. I bring home some take away once or
twice a week, but that is not enough. I haven’t seen any of my friends for
weeks now and don’t know if I even have friends anymore. What if I walk out the
door and discover that the world as we know it has disappeared. That something
like a radioactive virus has killed the whole of humanity, and I am the only
one alive, that would be something to write about. I can think of at least two
movies with the same storyline. I drag my feet back to the desk where a
blank word file anxiously looks at me. I sigh and put my head on the keyboard.
This will never work.
After a few minutes my head starts to hurt. I
can feel the keys on the keyboard make a dent in my forehead and I decide that
things should be different. Maybe I had to go out more and experience the
world. Find sources for my next book, I don’t even have a clue what this next
book is going to be about. Maybe I can write a book about my own love life
which is non-existent. Make it a comedy, because that is what my love life is
all about these days. I have a boyfriend. Sort of. He visits me once or twice a
week. We started dating two months ago. It is not much of a relationship. He
comes over, we watch a movie, cuddle on the couch and then he goes back to his
own house. There is no romance whatsoever. At first it was all romantic. He
took me to this Indian restaurant once in the first week when we started dating
and he gave me a rose at the table to say how much he loves me. It seems like
ages ago and I generally believe he loves me and he thinks I’m fine with him
coming over and cuddle twice a week, but I need more and I’m to blame too,
because I’m not doing anything about it either, so I shouldn’t complain, but it
all just seems so hopeless. And what happens when we break up? I am too busy to
start dating again. And besides, I am not ready to date again. No, that’s not
true. I’m ready to date again, but clearly not ready to start a relationship.
And I like how things are right now. I can come home whenever I want if I want
to come home at all. No one to complain to me about not doing the dishes, or
complain about my clothes scattered across the bedroom floor. I can clean my
house whenever I want. Pick up someone from a bar now and again if I really
want to, because I don’t think I’m the only girl Jimmy is seeing at the moment.
The other day in the Newsagent’s where I work, I saw two girls looking at
me from one of the isles as if I had stolen her boyfriend. She can have him. He
is not very useful to me at the moment anyway. So she can have him all to
herself.
The clock startled me, eleven o’clock already
and just a few words on paper. At least I spelled my name correctly. I Poured
myself another cup of coffee. Right! Back to work. Just one hour until this day
is over. Tomorrow is going to be different. As soon as I have the first chapter
of my new book, I can relax and think about doing something for myself again.
Tomorrow will be a new day. It is time for a change. A major change. I need to
get out more. Maybe I should call up a few friends and see if they want to go
out with me. Tomorrow I will break up with Jimmy. No more playing the victim
here. If I want to make something of my life, I should not stay here behind my computer
wasting away my life staring at blank word documents.
I wonder, what would a famous writer do when
he or she needs a new idea for a book. Go out with a note book and write down
everything you see and make it into a story. Or go away on holiday and take
time in the country to focus only on writing. Maybe I should go out and take my
notebook with me. Wasn’t there a party tonight somewhere? I remember I have the
flyer here somewhere. Ah, here it is. A tribute concert in one of my favourite
night clubs. Apparently the singer of the band died recently. All the money
goes to a foundation raised in his name. I could do something useful for
society for once and try to get some inspiration for a new book.
I should go to that party. Have some fun and
drink a few beers with people I haven’t seen in a while. It could give me an
idea for the first chapter. It had better; otherwise I have wasted a few hours
while I should be behind my computer typing and drinking coffee. I grab my
phone from the table and flip through the names. Some of the names I don’t
recognise and I remind myself of the lonely life I have led these past few
weeks. I feel sad inside. What has this writing thing brought me so far? I have
no friends left. I have no book and I have no idea. I only have sadness and
loneliness. I see a number that I recognise in my phone and I ring the number.
“Hello.”
“Jamee?”
“Lisa? I haven’t spoken to you in a few
weeks. I thought you moved to a country somewhere in South America.” I smiled.
I had been ignoring any phone calls and emails which were not work related.
“I know and I’m sorry. I should have called
you sooner. I was really busy and I want to make it up to you.”
“Alright! Where are you now? What would you
like to do?”
“I am going to this benefit concert in a club
just off Dame Street. Do you want to come?”
“I would love to. Do you mind if Patrick is
coming too?”
“Who is he again? I don’t seem to recall who
Patrick is." Jamee laughs. “He is my brother! You should know that,
because he went to the same school as us. You even fancied him when you were in
your senior year.” I put one hand in front of my mouth. “I totally forgot. I’m
sorry.”
“No problem. Shall we meet in half an hour?”
“Alright. No problem. I’ll meet you guys
there.”
I quickly showered and put on some nice
clothes. I don’t want to make the first night I am going out in weeks too
special, so I put on my favourite jeans and a worn shirt. All set! Turn off the
computer and I’m ready to go. Oh, don’t forget to bring a note book just in
case I get a brilliant idea.
It is cold outside. Summer officially ended a
few days ago, and the leaves start to get brown already. Summer went by in no
time. I can’t believe it is autumn already. The time of rain and heavy winds
will be a prelude for the winter. I should take some time off soon. Go to some
place warm and finish the rest of my book. It’s been a while since I have taken
some time off to relax and enjoy the finer things in life; some booze, don’t
have to worry about tomorrow, visit some religious places. I hear Spain is
lovely this time of year.
The club looks busy from the outside, I hope
I still can get in at this stage. It shouldn’t be a problem if Eddie is working
at the door, he always lets me in. He is cute. I went out on a date with him
some time ago, turns out we have more in common than either of us could have
imagined. Maybe I should call him again if he is not too busy. It’s always
handy to know the bouncer of the club where you always go to. He knows a lot of
people, and some famous people come in here now and again. He could introduce
me to some of those people. On the other hand, if our second date goes wrong he
might not. I think I will wait with asking him out.
In suspense I glanced at the door, still no
Eddie in sight. And yes, it is his day off. Marcus is standing at the door and
looking gorgeous as always. Ah well, maybe it’s for the best that Eddie isn’t
here, it wasn’t meant to be, apparently, and besides dating a bartender gets
you a lot of free beers. That has more potential. I never had any problems
getting in to this place. Must be because I am old enough to get into this
place and I don’t need any ID. I look old enough too. It would be a compliment
if they ask me for my identification, because I have passed the minimum age limit
some time now.
The doors fly open, and before I know it my
lungs are filled with smoke and the smell of old beer. The music is loud, and
the rhythm of the music is confusing my heartbeat for a second.
I seriously hate it when this place is filled
with people, especially when almost everyone is younger than me. I used to know
a lot of people in this place even all the people who worked behind the bar.
Now my friends have all gone to other more sophisticated places to suit their
new life style. They don’t come to this place anymore. Most of them have moved
on to greener pastures, with other interests. It is kind of sad the way friends
grow apart when people grow up. I can’t blame them in a way. I have asked
myself millions of times what the I am still doing here.
The music is worse than it used to. They used
to play good music to which you could dance without bumping in to a lot of
people. I honestly hate those teenagers who are jumping around the dance floor,
calling it dancing. It must be the nostalgia of this place that keeps me here
and alcohol always helps me to have a good time in this place.
Speaking of alcohol, time for a beer. Maybe
I’ll see some people I know on my way to the bar or someone fascinating to talk
to.
I have a strong feeling about tonight, the
atmosphere is intimate. And the band is actually playing music which is not
unpleasant at all. I haven’t seen Jamee and Patrick yet, so I decide to
look for a barstool where I can wait for them. There’s an empty barstool at the
bar that looks appealing. It gives me an excellent view of the band, and it
gives me an chance to stare at people. The girl in the corner is staring at me,
maybe she will come over here and talk to me. She appears to be my age, which
is good, but the last thing I need is to have a conversation with some random
girl. She looks gorgeous. Long red hair with blonde streaks in it. And her
dress is utterly beautiful; Emerald green velvet with silk on the sleeves. Must
have cost her a fortune. I would never wear something like that, I would be too
afraid to spill something on it. But it is one of those dresses that you always
wanted to have, even if it is just hanging in your closet and you look at it
occasionally. It doesn’t matter because you have it and you can show it off to
your friends. You might wear it one time to a fancy dress party, but then it
disappears in your closet again. It’s been a while since I dressed up for
anything, the last time was when I was playing role playing games with my
friends, and afterwards we would go to a bar in our gothic dresses, and all the
youngsters would stare at our beautiful dresses and our make-up.
She is standing in front of me now. Thinking
of something brilliant to say.
“Hi. Having fun tonight?” Not the most
brilliant thing to say, but at least I managed to say something polite. She
looks at the person sitting next to me and as if he is possessed he gets off
the stool and walks away without looking at us again.
“It’s not the worst night of my life. Are you
having fun all by yourself here?” I looked at her. Why would someone like her
talk to me. It almost felt as if she was leading me on. “And you?”
“ I am actually waiting for two people. I
thought I would wait here for them.” I am a bit nervous. It feels awkward
talking to her.
“So are you from around here? Your accent
doesn’t sound like you are from Dublin.” She smiles. It is a warm smile. I
relax a little bit.
“I moved here a few years ago. I was born in
Galway.”
“What’s Galway like? I want to go there, but
I never found the time to go. Where in Galway are you from?”
“I’m from a little town close to Galway, but
I haven’t been there in a while. I have a house in Dublin now. You should visit
me whenever I go back to Galway, I think you will like it there. So, what
brings you to this place?”
“I live in this town. I used to come here in
this club, every weekend, but things change, the people who come here are
getting younger, and the music is younger, louder even. I was sitting at home
all alone, and I needed to go out to find an idea for a new book.”
“You’re a writer. What do you write about?”
“All sorts of stuff. I write articles for an
online paper, but now I want to publish a book.” I look around to see if can
see Jamee and Patrick. They said they would be here in half an hour, which was
over an hour ago. I feel a bit disappointed and dreamily look at my beer. The
woman looks at me.
“How rude of me. I haven’t even asked your
name.” I look up from my beer and straight into her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I was just looking for my friends.
They should be here by now. My name is Lisa.”
“ Hi Lisa, My name is Brigid.”
She reached out her hand for me to shake it.
I shake her hand and I notice it is cold and extremely pale.
She continues “I used to write and study
literature, I even completed my masters here. It was mostly Shakespearian.”
“Interesting. What kind of work do you do if
I may ask.”
“I am an artist. There is not much work for
me. After I had completed my masters I started to take painting classes, and it
turns out that I have talent.”
“So now you focus on painting. Do you also
sell your paintings?”
“Sometimes. I find a small gallery that buys
some of my paintings.” She grabs her long hair and swiftly puts it into a
ponytail.
“But don’t you need a job to pay for your
lifestyle? I mean this city is not very cheap to live in.”
She laughs. “I have other assignments where I
can earn some extra cash now and again. I get by just fine. I don’t need a lot
to survive on.”
Her drink is empty and she puts it on the
bar. Her arm touches my arm and I feel a tingling sensation, like part of my
energy is escaping my body.
“I have an idea. Why don’t we leave this
place and go somewhere where we can talk. Maybe I can give you an idea for your
book.”
“That sounds like a great idea. What do you
have in mind?” My drink is empty. I put my glass on the bar and jump off the
barstool.
“Don’t know yet. We’ll see. Somewhere where
we can talk without having to scream to hear each other.”
“Sounds reasonable. Let’s go.”
