Oxygen (Catfish And The Bottlemen/1975)

Katie

With a joint in one hand and a white russian in the other I did a slow waltz, swaying in a haze of smoke and steam in our misty kitchen to Radioheads Fake Plastic Trees.

Fliss was sitting in the window above the kitchen sink and Saffy was stood on the counter searching behind a polystyrene ceiling tile for something she said she'd hidden up there month ago.

"What is it Saff?" Asked Fliss smoking as she watched the street outside, it was tumbleweed desolate, empty bins tipped over by a stray dog, the remains of the day scattered by the wind and the rain.

A street lamp flickered.

"Just something I wrote ages ago,"

"And you hid them in the ceiling tiles?" I asked with raised brow, a small smirk on my lips. "I know youre self conscious with your lyrics and all love but thats a bit extreme isnt it,"

"I wasn't hiding them from you," she said the slight of a sulk lingering in her voice as she finally fell down with a book in her hand.

"Theyre not just lyrics," she smirked, "theres all sorts here," she shrugged her shoulders, "I hid them when Rhys kept breaking in," she said, "I was worried he'd come back whilst we were in america, I didn't want him reading this," she held up one sheet of paper, a poem of sorts written Ian  Curtis style in capital letters. I stepped closer and for a second she wavered as if hesitant to hand them over but in the end she did and as I held them in my hands, reading them slowly my lips curved around the words and something changed.

I CAN'T LOVE YOU HOW YOU WANT ME TO
I CANT LOVE YOU HOW YOU WANT ME TO
I CANT LOVE YOU HOW YOU WANT ME TO
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?
WHAT DO YOU WANNA SAY?
WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL CHANGE?
MAYBE IM AFRAID OF YOU
MAYBE IM AFRAID OF YOU
I'LL BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS ME

I was in awe, but something didn't sit right.

"Saffy?" I asked, eyes flickering across each sentence looking for a line I might have read wrong, but I hadn't read them wrong and so I had to ask, "why is Rhys still here?"

She sucked in a breath, let out a sigh and shook her head.

"I slipped," she said simply with a self aware smile which simmered only in the corner of my lips.

I returned it with sympathy, I couldn't understand but I understood Saff. Little miss sunshine smile, never lets you down. Only ever brightens your day. Terrified, petrified of being unable to give you what you want.

"All things must pass," breathed Fliss tapping her ash out the window.

"Your sulk hasn't," she jumped at the opportunity to change the subject, steer it in the direction of an inquest into someone else. I cracked a grin.

"We're not talking about me we're talking about you, and you deserve to be loved, you shouldn't have to hide your feelings in the ceiling," she said half the world away from us and yet her words were the bone.

"Yeah," smirked Saff, "and you should let yourself be loved,"

"When I find someone that does believe me," she said dryly, lighting a fresh cigarette.

"Cmon dont smoke that smoke this," I offered her the last of my joint and she smiled.

"Youre an angel,"

"You're an angel," I mimicked her pulling a face, making the two of them giggle as we reverted to our old childish ways.

I changed the song, chose something a little more lively, turned it up and poured another drink.

"Fuck it," mumbled Fliss tapping dropping the end of the joint into the kitchen sink, swiveling round and slipping from the counter to the floor to join me in mixing up a shot of joy to get us through the long afternoon.