Page 16 of Love Beyond Repair
When Ben got home from his induction meeting at the hospital, our lack of productivity didn’t impress him. But he enjoyed being Kelsey’s knight, dragging her off to the bedroom to save the day.
I laughed with the others. But later, when the noise faded, I found myself pressing play on the sitcom we never finished. My night ending alone as everyone else moved on with their plans.
Note to self: I must look at soundproofing options for their room, or perhaps noise-canceling headphones may be a better option.
Stuffed to the brim and well-greased on beer, we all lounge on the sofa. Pizza and beer night has been a tremendous success. Not that it wouldn’t have been; the four of us have done this a hundred times before, but this is the first time we have had pizza and beer in our own home.
We had the same argument over which pizzas to order, and as usual, ended up ordering one of each. My favorite is ham and pineapple. Ben says pineapple on pizza is diabolical. He pinched a piece off my slice with a grin.
Our fingers brushed, just for a second. I giggled shyly and took a gulp of beer, squashing down the unwelcome feeling in my belly. Personally, I feel the Hawaiian pizza is a much under-appreciated delicacy, and that Ben can be too appealing when I least expect him to be.
I’m lucky to be living my best life surrounded by my best friends. We have so much to look forward to. The year ahead is exciting. Sitting in my half-drunken state, I’m happier than I have ever been. It’s nice to have finally lost the sullen teenager who clung to me from years ago.
“Oi, sis. What’s with the halfwit smile on your face?” Amy slurs from her couch.
“This halfwit is happy to be here with all you roasters.”
Ben and Kelsey stick their fingers down their throat in unison.
“Urgh, pass the sick bag,” Kelsey goads, and we all fall into fits of giggles.
A loud bang at the door interrupts our festivities. Our eyes dart between each other. “Does anyone know who it is? Or anybody expecting someone?” I ask. They all shake their heads, eyes wide, wondering who is at the door.
Kelsey and I watched too many London, inner-city crime documentaries before moving. We thoroughly terrified the shit out of ourselves. I hadn’t been able to sleep for a week, dreaming of masked men, and not in a good way.
A booming voice erupts from the other side of the door, “Come on. I know you’re in there. Come and meet your neighbor.”
Ben jumps up, running toward the noise. He’s wearing his tartan pajama bottoms with a terrible character t-shirt. He doesn’t look like the hotshot trainee doctor tonight. He looks like a dork. A really hot dork. I bury the inappropriate thought.
A giant suddenly enters our living room, followed by Ben. He’s huge, filling the doorframe. A broad smile is plastered across his face, and bright green eyes, full of mischief, survey the room. This man is attractive in a lovable way. He’s not classically good looking, but he’s interesting, his sandy-blond hair worn long and falling over his forehead. You know by looking at him, your day just got better. He holds his arms wide.
“Welcome to the building, folks,” he bellows. I wonder if he has volume control. “I hope you lot are more exciting than the last boring bastards who lived here.” We all sit, taken aback. He reminds me of a Nordic Viking. Big and brawny. No one utters a word, so he continues with his introduction. “Well, as none of you are forthcoming, I will go first.” He smiles. “I’m Terry Trodden, yes, Trodden, like you stepped in something.”
I can’t help it; I burst out laughing, and winks at me.
“You’ve no idea how good a pickup line that is.” He laughs, and it’s infectious. “I’ve lived here, Flat 6A, for five years. It’s a two-bedroom, but I live by myself. Moved to London to chase the dream with a mate, but he lost his mind and got married.” He waggles his eyebrows and smirks. “Anyway, I’m thirty-one, single, and looking for the partner. Any takers?”
At this point, I’m not sure if he’s joking or not. I sit quietly on the sofa and sip my beer.
“I work at a double-glazing sales company while I’m trying to make my name as an actor,” he continues. “Maybe you saw me in the hemorrhoid advert I did last year?” We all look blankly at him, shaking our heads. “Enough about me. Who are you all?”
One by one, we give him a brief history of ourselves. Name, place of birth, job, and our hobbies. My hobbies don’t account for much, drinking beer and watching TV seemingly don’t count. I sit, watching the proceedings inawe. How can a stranger barge into your home and take hold of the reins so easily?
An hour later, we’re all chatting like old friends, having drunk another case of beer. He’s got us to disclose some of our most embarrassing secrets. So far, he knows about Ben being caught tied to a lamppost with his pants down during a university prank day, my close encounter with a male professor in his office, and Amy being caught shoplifting. Kelsey’s so pure that not even Terry Trodden can get any dirt on her.
It turns out the hemorrhoid advert has been Terry’s only mainstream TV appearance so far. He’s made a few appearances locally as the drag queen, Vixen Vicky, starred in three low-budget porn movies, and been a stunt double in a movie that never aired.
But apart from that, he’s spent the past five years bouncing from one pointless job to another. According to him, having a hell of a lot of fun in the process. Terry Trodden lives life in the moment. He says he considers himself pansexual.
Seemingly, that means you look beyond gender and are attracted to the person, not their sexuality. To me, that seems a positive way to live, not restricting yourself to a box, living the way that feels right to you. Loving who feels right.
Since I was a teenager, I’ve been trying to tick off a checklist.
Exams, tick.
University, tick.
Graduate, tick.
