Take me away, p.12
Take Me Away, page 12
I wish I didn’t have to be myself anymore.
If you listen to a song over and over, it makes you feel a certain way—makes you cry or remember, makes you happy or more depressed—until one day you get so fed up you turn it off and decide not to listen to it anymore. Well, you can’t turn that voice inside your head off; you’re forced to listen, over and over and over...
Some nights, whilst sitting alone in the pubs or at home and drunk, I would listen to Jamelia, “Thank You.” I saw myself in that song, except I am still with him; I hadn’t escaped yet. But writing this, I can say that: Thank you, I am stronger for what I had to go through.
14.
Antony wanted to go abroad again, and me, well, I’d always be up for any trip. We searched around for a long time. It had to be cheap and cheerful, only for a week. We found a holiday in Tenerife—one-week, self-catering. Excitement coursed through my veins. It cost us four hundred and fifty pounds for everything. A bargain, you couldn’t book a holiday for that price anymore. Just a tele-text holiday; I don’t know if they still do them?
Anyway, we booked. We were going on holiday, together, alone. Was I happy with that? I couldn’t say. There would be no jealousy, at least, with just the two of us. We would only have each other.
We locked our flat up for the week. It was half term for me at college, and we’d booked time off work. We got my dad to take us to Manchester Airport, and we flew to Tenerife.
I don’t remember the flight there. I remember getting myself a book in the airport. Antony had his personal CD player on, with his headphones, so he wasn’t great company.
I sauntered around the shops in the airport and bought myself two books. The first, I started reading straight away—an old classic, A Catcher in the Rye—which I read in the six hours it took to board, fly, and take the bus to our apartment in Tenerife. In that six hours, I’d read all about Holden and his life and his unapparent depression. Something triggered deep down inside; perhaps I had something wrong with me, too, some form of depression?
When we got off the bus and into our apartment, there was nothing to eat. We walked to the little shop about two minutes down the street from the group of apartments. They were full of young people and couples, all there to party in Playa de las Americas. Food didn’t matter to me, just beer and drugs and partying. Me and Antony got some chocolate pastries, crisps, and a crate of beer and took them to the apartment.
There were cockroaches everywhere in the apartment, outside, and even a couple in the pool. They were so fast, and some could even fly.
“Catch them, and let them out,” I yelled.
“Don’t be daft. I’m just gonna stand on them,” Antony said, chasing them down.
“Doesn’t that spread their eggs or something?” I asked.
“No, don’t be so stupid.”
Antony killed the ones in the apartment. We both showered and headed out to drink and get pissed. It was a rowdy place, an amazing party scene. I wish we’d gone with our friends instead of alone, us two. I got bored easily. We went out, we got drunk, but I never danced. We both sat and had drink after drink and listened to the music.
We met another couple and a girl; the three of them happened to be staying in the same apartments as us. The complex had about twenty apartments in a gated community with a pool. We sat with them in the club, laughing and joking, then we walked home together and ate pizza next to the pool.
That was pretty much what we did every night. It made Antony happy. In the day, Antony slept a lot. I would go to the pool by myself and read my second book, Tracks. I loved it, a woman travelling Australia solo, with her dog and camels—a true inspiration.
I am quite a solitary creature. I crave my solitude, and I think I will end up alone. I see it as my destiny.
Some days around the pool, the girl from the other apartment would come out—as would other people, of course. Her name was Jessica. Such an amazing person; one of my fondest memories includes her. She first saw me sitting alone, and she gave me the biggest smile. She bounded over, full of confidence, and pulled up a sun lounger right beside me.
“Hey, where’s your beau?” she asked.
“Bed. He likes to sleep,” I replied, downhearted.
“Good. I’m Jessica,” she said. She was so happy, so cheerful.
“Danni,” I said, grinning.
“So, what you reading?”
“Tracks.” I turned the book so she might see it.
“Good book, that. Women, solo travel, best way. Never travel with men. No offence.” She waved her hand at me.
We sat the first day and talked and laughed. Turned out, she was gay and hated men. We walked to the shop and bought crisps to eat by the pool. We said we would see each other that night in the clubs, maybe. I hoped I would.
But we didn’t. It was me and Antony all on our lonesome. I found that I couldn’t stop thinking about her or looking for her.
The following day, I sat alone again reading and she strolled out to the pool, smiling at me again. We jumped in the pool, playing on inflatables; we had so much fun, just like children. She made me so happy, and I was glad to have a laugh. We tried to knock each other off the inflatables, over and over, splashing each other.
“You do coke?” she asked.
“Hell yeah. You got some?” I replied. I hadn’t had any drugs this entire holiday, and I needed an escape.
“For you, yeah I got some. Come over to my bag.” She swam over to our sun loungers.
“You got some in your bag?” I asked.
“I always have some on me to make good times good.” She laughed.
“Great! Antony doesn’t like drugs. I take them when I’m not with him.”
“Well, he seems boring. You don’t, so let’s get high.”
“He is.” I laughed.
We snorted it there at the side of the pool. There weren’t that many people about. The people that were there were either hung over and sleeping or drinking—getting started early for the evening activities. So, no one cared or even noticed. We did a couple of lines each, then jumped back into the pool. Jessica put me on the Lillo and pulled me around in circles; we were laughing so hard. She pushed me into the water, diving under with me then pulling me up.
“You idiot. I wasn’t ready to go under water.” I gulped.
“You look amazing wet. Your hair is like a flame—blazing, beautiful, and red.” Jessica said, stroking my hair.
“I’m a ginger. It’s not attractive, man. Ask Antony he, hates it,” I said.
“Oh yeah, then why is he with you?” she asked.
“Stuck with me I guess.” I laughed.
Jessica looked at me, tilting her head like a puppy dog. She followed that head movement with a head shake, as if she didn’t understand something. “No, no I don’t believe that. He’s telling you that so you don’t have any confidence. So, he can keep you all to himself, man.”
The girl had known me four days, and she’d got Antony pegged out for what he was based solely on my personality.
“You are fricking gorgeous, Danni. You’re stunning, beautiful, you’re an amazing person. You have a fire, a passion in you. Please don’t let someone else put that out. Be proud of yourself. Tell me something, do you see yourself with him when you’re an old woman?” Jessica asked.
“No, I don’t. I don’t, I don’t.” I kept saying over and over, because I realised that I didn’t want to or intend to spend the rest of my life with Antony. Sure, I loved him at that time in my life; but I understood that I’d got to get out of that toxic relationship, even though I wasn’t physically able to leave him at that time.
“Good to know,” Jessica said. She leaned towards me, dark eyes staring into mine. I couldn’t break away from that glare, intense passion flowed through me. She slid her arm round my shoulders, pulling me in for a kiss. I let her, kissing her back. Jessica was tall with long dark hair shaved on one side, thick eyebrows, and dark eyes—very attractive to me.
I don’t understand what makes someone bisexual, but if I find a person attractive outside as well as in, then I like the person regardless of the sex of that person. Is that bisexual?
Jessica pulled me in close. Our mouths locked, and we kissed for what felt like an hour. When we separated, we both gazed into each other’s eyes and laughed. Then we looked into the water like we were both, all of a sudden, embarrassed. It was nice. We got out and sat on our sun lounges, and Antony made one of his rare appearances.
“Danni, why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked me.
“Thought I’d let you sleep.”
“Hello, Jess? Is it?”
“It is. Hi.”
“Are you off out tonight? With Gareth and Julie?”
“We are, as always. Why, you two wanna come?” she asked us both, smiling at me.
“Yeah, we’d love to, wouldn’t we?” I said looking at Antony.
“Yeah, why not?” he said laying down on a sun lounger.
“Right, well I’ll give you knock when were ready—about eight,” Jessica said, winking at me.
“Brilliant.” I was happy we had made plans.
When we got out with Jessica and her two friends, Antony sat with Gareth and I got to dance all night with Jessica and her friend Sarah. Near the end of the night, Antony called me over. “We’re going. I’m knackered and can’t see straight.”
“Ok, I’ll just go to the toilet. Be back in a bit,” I said, disappointed.
Jessica dragged me off to the toilet, pushing me into a cubicle and locking the door. I always shared a toilet with Winters, so this is nothing new. But we didn’t use the toilet. As Jessica turned to face me, our eyes locked. We moved towards each other, our mouths connecting, tongues touching in passion; we kissed. She rubbed my breasts through my clothes. I raised my hand and reciprocated, caressing hers. I’d never done anything like that before, but it came so natural to me—normal, passionate. She pulled away, and I smiled at her.
“Please be out round the pool tomorrow.” Jessica said, panting. “I’ll come out as soon as I’m up. I’ll fetch us some coke.”
“Would I be anywhere else, Jess?” I said. I kissed her again. “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
***
That night I lay in bed thinking of Jessica, of how she made me feel. I was a beautiful woman with her, empowered. I didn’t need Antony in my life at all.
When I woke in the morning I snuck out, leaving Antony snoring. I rushed down to the local shop alone, as I always did. I got watermelon and Cheetos, eight beers, and some water. I walked to the pool and finished my book Tracks. Loved it, a beautiful true story.
Every so often, I would look around to check for Jessica. She always came in the afternoon, around two. I never slept much, too many drugs; I guess my brain was confused. When she came that day, she strolled over to me with that amazing smile of hers.
“Hey, gorgeous,” she called.
I beamed at her, sitting up.
“Hey, you ok this morning?” I asked.
“I am now I’m here. You finished the book, then.” She pointed to the book under my lounger.
“Yeah, I love it. I’ll probably read it again.”
“I always keep the books I love so I can re-read them whenever I want,” Jess said.
“Me too, I’ve got so many books. Do you read poetry?” I asked her.
“Yeah. I write poetry, too, when I’m low. I find it therapeutic,” Jess said staring off towards the pool.
“No way. I write poetry, too, whenever I feel like shit—which is all the time.” I tried to laugh it off.
“Feel like shit a lot? What’s with the scars on your legs, Danni? That from feeling like shit too?” Jess asked, stroking one of my scars.
“They are, I can’t help it. It helps me deal with stuff that’s going around in my head. Makes the pain real, something I can see,” I told her straight, unashamed of my scars.
“I don’t mind scars, and I can understand why you do it.”
She stroked up and down my thighs, sending a tingling sensation through my entire body. I didn’t want her to stop. She moved higher and higher up my legs, the tingling becoming more intense. I blushed, making a low moan in my throat.
“Come on, Danni, let’s go to my apartment. Sarah and Gareth are out at the water park. I’ve got a bit of coke for us and some weed.” She stood up, waiting for me.
I gathered up my towel, food, and book and walked over with her. In the apartment, we opened my beers and Jessica lit a joint. We both slid down onto the sofa. We were both stoned within the hour and giggling like schoolgirls, talking about our lives back home.
I moved towards her and kissed her beautiful, soft lips. I couldn’t stop myself, I wanted her. Jessica moved her hands up my legs again this time, going all the way to the top. Before I made sense of what was happening, we were making love.
My first time. I say this was my first time because it was so good, incredible, natural. I wanted it. I needed her love, and she gave it. We made love. I lost my virginity, again. I gave and she gave; it was real this time. That was the first time I perceived what sex could be. At eighteen.
We sat after, both naked and smiling at each other. Jess stroked my arm. We drank more beers and did some lines of coke, after which I walked around to my apartment—to Antony. He’d been asleep all day, thinking I’d been at the pool all day. I knew then that I wanted Jessica and not Antony. I was alive, loved, and respected. Like I didn’t need drugs to numb my senses; although, we did do drugs, together. The key word here being ‘together.’ We were doing them together and having a laugh with it. I wasn’t taking them to forget myself.
The day after, I waited for Jessica. I waited, I waited. At four o’clock, I headed round to look. Her apartment was empty; she’d gone home. I was a holiday romance for her. Had she searched for me, wanted me to have her number? I was right there, where I always was. I would have given her my number. It’s possible I would have split from Antony for her—maybe, just maybe. But she never gave me that chance.
I still say: Thank you, Jess. You let me see what sex was all about. You made me confident to be me, even if I wasn’t ready yet. You let me know that I could, one day. For that week, I loved you. You are one person in my life that I wish I’d stayed in contact with.
I sat during my last day in Tenerife, alone, round the pool. We got the bus to the airport at ten that night and got home on Friday afternoon.
Once we got home and into the flat, we went out with Antony’s mam and dad that night to the local five doors from our flat. All night I thought of Jess. I excused myself, drifting to the toilet, and I wept. I missed my friend.
I look back and I am so grateful that I got my time with Jessica. I’m glad you enriched my life, made me understand, made me feel—really feel, man—made me love for the first time. Thank you.
I got so drunk that night, I took prescription drugs to block out my desires of longing and loss. I always remember that holiday as if it were my holiday, not mine and Antony’s. My holiday alone because, for most of it, I was alone.
But I loved my holiday, my freedom—freedom from my life, freedom from me, from Antony. I wish to God I’d got the guts to travel alone—to drive, camp, write, take pictures, and be free. That trip was like my freedom.
I was alone, but not alone. I got to be me. Danni.
15.
Flood.
It’s Flooding,
From me.
I’m standing, in the dark,
Arms out, head up,
And light, feeling, emotion,
Is rushing out.
Up, up,
So bright, this flood of light.
At its height,
The feelings are tight.
I need you,
I need you to see this,
Open your eyes.
See the lights,
The emotions that are flooding,
From my soul,
Fetch me a bowl.
***
I love that poem. It’s one of my favourites.
Life carried on as normal after Tenerife, but I would never forget Jess.
Saturday night came around again. I hadn’t seen Winters or Dean in a week; I’d missed them. Dean came around to the flat at about four o’clock to have a drink with Antony before we’d go out. As soon as he came in, he came straight to me in the bedroom and gave me a big hug. Wrapping both arms so tight around my tiny form. Kissing my head over and over.
“God, I missed you Danni. Are you ok? Did you have a good holiday?” he asked.
“Yes, it was really nice—great, in fact. I had a great time.” I said. For once, I wasn’t lying. I’d come to terms with Jessica, a holiday romance except—for me—it ran deeper; a brief and amazing moment in time, I would remember it always.
“Good, good, glad to hear it. No arguments or anything?” he asked, checking my face.
“Honestly, Antony spent most of the time sleeping. I made a new friend, Jess, and we had a good time.” I answered as I left the room.
We headed out and met with Winters, Phil, and Dave at the local pub and had an amazing night. I got so drunk. I smoked with Creevey. Antony even came outside and saw me smoking weed. He came to say hello to Creevey and didn’t say a word to me.
The night moved on. I let myself believe perhaps we would be ok, after all; he’d accepted me as I am. I finished my joint while Antony spoke to Creevey. We walked back inside, no incident. No incident all night. I danced, I had fun, and after we all strolled over to the flat for more drinking. After a while, everyone fell to sleep.
I woke up Sunday morning and took a steady stroll to the shop. I bought bread and butter, tea bags, and some oat milk so I could make tea and toast for everyone.
We all ate, drank our tea, and after breakfast everyone headed home. Antony never said anything; he wasn’t angry at all. Maybe everything would be fine.
