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Chapter 22

Stepping inside my house I feel the warmth of the heater caressing my cheeks. God it feels great to be home. I'm exhausted from all of Simon's advances I had to divert, exhausted from the excitement of the debate and all, exhausted from feeling too much at the same time. I take off my coat and scarf and rush to my bedroom for a hot shower to sooth my tense muscles. Soon I am in my soft grey pyjamas, heading to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea, mountain tea that Elizabeth brought me from her recent trip to Greece. Good stuff! I save it for special occasions like now when I'm feeling vulnerable, emotionally empty or fed up depending which way you're looking at it. I wait for the kettle to bring the water to a boil and when the characteristic sound is heard along with the snap of the button my head is already throbbing from the alcohol consumption I'm certainly not used to.

I rub my fingers around my temples to relieve some of the tension and momentarily I succeed. I still feel tipsy if I'm being honest and I make a mental note to hold back on the booze for a while. I chuckle at the thought and I pour the steaming water into the mug. The liquid starts to become greenish and I reach for the honey. I wonder what time I should pick Anzette from my mom's tomorrow. I don't remember if we agreed on a time, or if she has piano practice. I guess I'll call early in the morning to make sure. My mom is an early riser, so no harm done.

I take the teabag, dip it once more and throw it in the bin. I hate strong tea; it becomes bitter and I don't like it. I think that I let it in too long just now. I stir the contents and laugh at how my life resembles this very mug of tea. Sometimes bitter, with a touch of honey to make it bearable but sometimes I just get it so right, that's so bloody satisfying. It's been a while since I got it right, though.

I check the kitchen clock. It's almost one a.m. I should get to bed but I don't find the strength to do so. Instead, I relax in my comfy living room armchair and I sit back, flashes of the night playing before me. Anne, Harry, Rebecca, Niall, Elizabeth, Niall and then Simon. I shut down all his attempts to get closer, to make a move. Maybe I should just give it a try. Maybe I should just give in and give him a chance. He is perfect for me. He could be a great father figure for Anzette and a great companion for me. We have so much in common. We are compatible. Both university teachers, same demands, same schedule. Maybe I should just try it.

I drink some more tea and I already feel better. I look around and my eyes fall on a picture of me and Jason from when he was well. He is wearing his scuba diving gear and he is ready to go on the boat and I am next to him in my bikini making a silly face while he kisses my cheek. We were so good together. We had so much fun, there was so much love. Of course, there were arguments but there was always love, passion and lust. I would never have that with Simon. Should I compromise or should I wait for someone who will be exactly like Harry? Why am I thinking of Harry? I meant Jason. This is so confusing. And then there is Rebecca. She is so cute and sweet and his mom thinks she is great for him. She is right. Right? Ooooh, I can't think straight with so much alcohol in my blood. Damn that thing, it goes straight to my head. I'm sticking to water and apple juice from now on.

I switch on the TV and flip the channels till I find something good. It's way too late for something great but sometimes I get lucky with reruns of "Gilmore Girls" or "Friends". Not so lucky tonight. I grab the blanket from the basket next to the sofa and spread it on my legs. No more tea to keep me warm and the heater is not enough for me. I decide on a music channel playing nineties hits and I leave it on until I get sleepy. "Ought to know" by Alanis Morisette comes up and I grin like an idiot as I remember the little performance Harry listened to while Liz and I were getting ready when we went on our first date. We made a complete fool of ourselves, yet he didn't mind. He kind of enjoyed it.

I don't understand how he always pops in my head like he belongs there, like it's his home, a formal resident occupying its every cell, as if I'm a school girl. I need to get him out of my head. Argh! This is so frustrating! No more alcohol for me for the next decade.