With my son away for a few days, I didn’t have any great plans for the Easter weekend.
‘Do you fancy having a few drinks tonight?’ I asked Robyn as we lolled around on the sofas in front of yet another DVD, ‘I haven’t been drunk in ages!’
We decided on a superhero movie marathon, poured ourselves some generous glasses of vodka and put out the feelers for some weed. Marijuana is usually in abundance around here but for some reason, when Robyn and I fancied smoking our cares away, there was none to be found.
‘No weed, but loads of coke,’ Perry text me.
Encouraging Perry’s cocaine problem by telling him to pick me up a couple of grams probably wasn’t my smartest move. He’s been king cunt to Jemima recently and what I should have done is tell him to go straight home. Even if I had he wouldn’t have listened, so I figured keeping him nearby would at least ensure he kept his dick in his pants and wasn’t off making bad decisions that were detrimental to his and Jemima’s relationship.
I was suitably tipsy as I pulled out a DVD case and bank card and started making little neat rows of white powder. I looked at Robyn and Perry, their eyes glued to my every movement in anticipation,
‘This is going to last us two minutes,’ I noted.
‘Call Samson,’ Perry suggested, ‘he said he’d come over if Robyn asked him to’.
I shot her a huge smile. Samson is the local drug dealer and has harboured quite the crush on our dear Robyn ever since she moved to our sleepy little rural town.
‘I’m not fucking him,’ she said.
Perry and I assured her she wouldn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to and that we would help her fight off his advances if necessary. Samson tried to play hard to get for a while but Robyn’s genius, if slightly trashy, move of sending him a picture of her vagina seemed to seal the deal.
Upon his arrival, Samson plonked himself on the sofa next to Robyn and started racking up some lines. Perry and I discussed Superman’s indestructibility and how only the Hulk could possibly contain him. The vodka red bulls slid down my throat effortlessly. The cocaine went up my nostrils just as easily.
‘What’s that?’ Samson asked, pointing to my copy of Tolstoy’s War And Peace that rested next to the sofa.
Samson is not known for his intellect. Maybe his huge stature is to blame for the lack of blood getting to his brain, or maybe being so bloody tall and walking around with your head literally in the clouds all day stunts your intellectual capabilities. Whatever the excuse, it leaves him open to ridicule, usually the kind he doesn’t actually understand,
‘It’s a book. Have you ever seen one before?’ Robyn’s harsh tongue replied.
Apparently that was a question Samson wasn’t able to answer.
As is typical of the drunk and the drug addled, Perry and I babbled on for some time about every topic imaginable to man, confidently sharing our thoughts and opinions and believing our own bullshit, when suddenly I realised we were alone,
‘Where have they gone? Are they having sex?’
Perry looked at me out of the corner of his eye, a sly smile on his face and an expression that suggested I’d just asked the world’s most stupid question,
‘Yep,’ came his simple reply.
Just then, my phone began to ring,
‘Lola, there’s been a fight, can I bring Jammer round to get cleaned up?’ Isaac asked in a voice that seemed to be gasping for breath.
I quickly agreed and within minutes he, Jammer and Miles were stood on my doorstep, a high and blood stained trio. Jammer wasn’t looking too pretty. As I carefully washed the blood from his face and surveyed the inch long gash to his eyebrow, he told me how our mutual friends, Billy and Jake, had insulted his girlfriend and, when defending her honour, he had found himself wielding a broken bottle at the pair of them. Less than impressed by Jammer’s reaction, Billy and Jake had proceeded to pummel the life out of him and completed their violent masterpiece by stamping on his face.
I was shocked. I knew Billy and Jake enjoyed a scrap, I’ve witnessed enough of them in the past and cleaned them up after a few too, but this seemed extreme even for them. I concluded they had obviously taken something earlier in the evening that had turned them into blood thirsty savages, but Isaac disagreed,
‘They’d had a couple of beers and a couple lines of coke, that’s all,’ he protested, ‘Billy was pissed off anyway because of the footy results’.
Billy and I are both ardent Chelsea FC fans and I was also disheartened by their loss that day, but it seemed like an unlikely excuse for wailing so hard on a supposed friend.
I was struggling to stem the flow of blood from Jammer’s eyebrow,
‘You need to go to the hospital first thing in the morning,’ I told him as I removed one crimson soaked bandage from his head and replaced it with a new one, ‘this definitely needs stitches, probably three or four’.
Jammer wasn’t so keen on the idea but was convinced when I told him his entire eyebrow looked like it was going to collapse over his eye if he didn’t get the correct medical treatment sooner rather than later,
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured him, ‘eyebrow scars are kinda hot!’
A few drinks and cigarettes later and the wired trio expressed their appreciation and made their way home. Samson had left too, leaving just Perry, me and a woeful Robyn.
‘Why did I do that? I didn’t want that, I kind of felt obliged to sleep with him but I really didn’t want to. And it was shit,’ she moaned, clearly disappointed with herself and her recent sexual encounter, ‘ewww, what was I thinking? Is it possible to rape yourself? That’s how it feels’.
Robyn was shaking her head from side to side inbetween taking long drags on her cigarette. She continued to berate herself and slate Samson’s sexual prowess,
‘His facial expression never changes, even when he comes!’
‘We’ve all slept with someone we’ve regretted’, I consoled.
I looked over at Perry nodding his head in agreement. He’s made some huge mistakes in the sexual conquest category, most of them while still being in a relationship with Jemima. He really is a giant shit, but I can’t help feeling sorry for him. It’s obvious to him and I that our friendship is founded on our mutual understanding of each other. We are both mentally unstable fuck ups with the inability to deal with our issues in a normal, healthy way. We both try to fuck, drink or snort away our worries and never learn that we’re actually making things worse for ourselves. He should never have come round. We should never have bought that coke. Jemima was going to be pissed and disappointed with both of us.
Robyn took herself off to bed while Perry and I watched Captain America and snoozed on the sofa. As the sun started to come up on Easter Sunday, I fished the car key out of my bra, where I had stored it to ensure Perry didn’t drink and drive. He was in a terrible car accident a few years ago, when he was hit by the Christmas Coca Cola lorry and thrown 90ft out of the front windscreen. At the time his face was so messed up Jemima said it looked like a vagina, bits of flesh flapping all over the place. I suspect Perry had been drinking that night too and so has now used up all his lucky tokens when it comes to mixing alcohol and motor vehicles.
I sent him out into the cold Spring morning with instructions to make it up to Jemima for the both of us. I doubt he did.
When I settled back down under the duvet on my sofa, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Domestic disputes, blood and guts, drugs and sex…just a regular Saturday night at Lola’s!