Gerrard's Departure

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
The prequel to the night the bubble burst. Change is imminent.

Submitted: October 26, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 26, 2015



Gerrard’s Departure

There was something very wrong with me at the start of the new year and I couldn't understand the sudden lapse in confidence and morale. I confided in Anna, I explained as well as I understood myself, that I felt like I was jaded, that I needed something to revive me. We sat, as ever, in Skegness. 


Anna's phone blurted out the more conventional tone than mine adopted.


"Oh, Gerrard's leaving." She let out, in the most lackadaisical way I'd ever heard such brutal news explained.


"What?" That what contained confusion, fear, and utter surprise. Gerrard couldn't leave. This wasn't fair. Not on him. Not on me. Not only did that mean that Gerrard was assured of title failure, but that my metaphor for my revival and success was gone. I'd always mirrored myself to him. He gave me belief that I could bring myself back from the brink, that I could achieve my dreams. To lose him and lose all the brilliant things he'd done, it was like losing a friend. I knew he'd leave one day but this was scarily premature. "Why do you even have that app?! Why have you set this up to tell you these things? You don't even like football!" I saw that it was Sky Sports News, so this was official.


"I got it for Chris." She replied. There was more sincerity and apology in this statement. Of course. Chris. It changed nothing. No wonder I felt like leaving. My metaphor was about to up and disappear. I still prayed that this was somehow a mistake, although I knew it wasn't. At a time when I needed inspiration, this was not going to do me any favours.


I was fading, I was aware yet somehow completely oblivious at the same time. I wasn't sure if it was routine that was dragging me into apathetic monotony, or if something was just up. January fluttered it's pages from the calendar. The Almond Tree, another part of ambivalent regimen. Snelly had long since smoked himself out, and all that was left was me and Drew. I had no care for weed, and right now I was starting to have care for nothing. One joint left, Drew looked at me with his defining desperate look.


"You need to help me with this one." He held the joint between us, and swept his hand around his pocket in pursuit of a lighter. Successful, he lit up and I did my best to oblige his request. Unfortunately, as the joint wore on, I became very vividly aware that once this set in, I would be fucked. I'd smoked far too much than my novice abilities to handle this would accept. I text Carla to come fetch us, she'd been hammering away at my phone. It was gobshitey when I used Carla as a lift like this, but I would've seen her anyway, and that's what she wanted. Who was I justifying this to? Drew had been grappled by laughter and every few seconds burst out laughing at nothing.


"When's our taxi on the way then." He asked, in between stereotypical stoner laughter.


"Ten minutes, so you know that means half hour at least." I replied.


"She's alright to you? I reckon you'll marry her one day." Drew was seeking the bite, and he always got it, although this time he didn't. But it wasn't because I was being clever.


"Yeah I probably will." Drew looked stunned at my proclamation. "If she just sorted her clingyness out, she'd actually be perfect."


"Oh.... Right." Drew didn't know what to say, neither did I really. Time dragged itself at minute pace, and at last Carla arrived. It was disgracefully cold, and as usual, I naively wore my Hollister hoodie. The term could only be used loosely. Carla, for a second time, had failed to find the place and took an extra ten minutes getting to a nearby street to pick us up. Once we hopped in, Drew began another uncontrollable fit of laughter. He was going to give the game away. There was no way I was gonna allow Carla to know I was high, I didn't trust her at all. Drew tried to text me what he wanted to say and that was fine. He wrote that Carla wouldn't stop whinging, but he forgot he had a custom text tone on my phone. Carla knew that tone, and as a result once the Playstation start up music played she realised something was amiss.


"What did he say?" She inquired.


"He was talking about Snelly, he lost all his money and Drew was cracking up about it." Wow I was quick. The entire farce just provoked Drew's laughter further and we went passed McDonalds at his request. Drew was overt in his pisstaking. Sat slightly higher than his height put him, he made faces at her in the mirror, as I grew higher and higher.


We were a stone's throw away from Drew's and I had managed to pull the wool over her eyes. This was it.


"Can I have a chip please." She asked, politely for a change.


"Errrr..... No." I was too high, I couldn't move.


Drew lost himself and whatever he said was lost in mechanical giggling.


"What?! Why?!" Her politeness had evaporated. 


"Because I'm too cold, and if I move I'll get even colder." Wow, I wasn't so good with my excuses on this occasion, but she bought it. 


Back at mine and I scarcely managed the meal. I couldn't keep the charade up any longer.


"I feel sick." I confessed.


"Ok well I need to go home because I don't want to get ill for Chicagos on Thursday." She replied. As if this was an acceptable justification. It was at this point I thought that she was in real danger of turning into a meme. I thought this unfair, first that she'd leave and second that I was ranking below the world's shittest club. I knew she liked it but now I realised the extent of what it meant to her. 


"I'm only sick because I'm drunk, so you won't catch anything." I lied.


"Oh, ok then, I'll stay." Unbelievable. We lay across the sofa together until she fell asleep, early as usual. She barely spoke to me and I tried not to wake her to keep it that way. She took up, as always, most of the sofa, to be selfishly comfortable. Meanwhile I arched myself against the back of the sofa to ensure I didn't shove her across to a fairer position. Still oblivious to everything, I didn't see her as part of the problem. I still thought she gave me confidence. These were hints I should've picked up on. I didn't. 


© Copyright 2018 TomBerwick. All rights reserved.

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