Oxygen (Catfish And The Bottlemen/1975)

Saffron

I struggled to accept the sun, that is to say the week after they took Rhys away I stayed indoors despite the strange Indian Summer we appeared to be having.
That almost illusionary winter sunlight which seemed relentless for November.

Most mornings I would hear Rudy and Katie giggling outside on the patio as they got stoned, and often they'd try to coerce me into joining them too, but I could never bring myself to, not really. In the early afternoons Fliss and Jazz would do the same, and there was always somebody offering me something, but there was nothing I wanted, nothing I felt could make me feel whole again.

So I simply stayed in bed, occasionally wandering to my window to smoke the joints Kitty would leave on my bedside.

"I'll bite the hand that needs me," I mumbled along over the guitar, sometimes I'd wince as I said it. Sometimes I wouldnt. But I'd always picture him as I sang, "I can't love you how you want me to," because I couldn't and realising that had hurt more than I'd expected it to.

I'd thought falling out of love with him would solve everything, I thought the reason I always went back to him, time and time again, was because I loved him, and because I cared about him. Now though, I was beginning to realise that the guilt that comes with falling out of love, was just as agonising as the love which had kept me tied to him for so long.

"C'knock c'knock" Fliss tapped on my bedroom door, poking her head around hesitantly with a small, hopeful smile.

"Hi," I smiled, feeling a little pathetic as I looked up at her misty eyed. I felt like I'd been caught in the act but what exactly was my crime.

"Saffy I think you should come to Wales with me," she said before she'd even sat down and even when she'd sat down she was jumping back up, picking various items of clothing from my drawers.

"Why Fliss?" I frowned, I didn't feel much like third wheeling her and Van. "I'd rather stay here..."

"No you wouldn't," she shrugged, and a realised then there was no point protesting. No point at all. This was going to be one of those ideas she sometimes had, which no matter how throwaway they seemed she always made sure she made them happen.

"I just..." I started allowing myself to be cut off, allowing her to shove my jeans and my bodysuits into my rucksack. There was no point and so I let out a sigh, lit a joint and let her carry on for me.

"Jus get dressed ey," she shot me a wink, "someone says they miss you,"

"Ah yeah fuck off," I sneered at her, stomach twisting nervously at the thought that I might get my hopes up again.

"He does!" She exclaimed, her voice cracking as she grinned, "why would I lie,"

"Because you feel sorry for me," I said plainly, picking an oversized jumper up off the floor, pulling it over my head, struggling to roll the sleeves up.

"Saff my little sundance, I love you an all, but..." she trailed off, turning around with dead eyes, "fuck off," she cracked a grin, drawing me in as I giggled along, slipping into a pair of leggings, "also you look like a middle class wine mom off to ride out," she smirked, "love it," she winked swinging my bag over her shoulder, leaving me to pick up the last of her things.

We were nicking the van for the weekend, stopping at her sisters in Cheshire on the way home apparently, but I wasn't really bothered about the plan.

"Right, you choose, the killers, the phonics or..."

"Kelly Jones," I flashed her a smile kicking my legs up on the dashboard a little thrill waking me from my lethargic depression.

Me and Fliss were good at long car journeys, if ever there was an excuse for a road trip we always took it, hours of cigarettes, tunes and pissing about. We made them cosy like, blankets and pillows in the back seats, and sometimes one of us would sit there pissing around on a guitar, making up stupid little rhymes to famous tunes.
They were therapeutic if anything and I was beginning to think that perhaps it wasn't so much that Bondy had mentioned me, and more that Fliss thought I needed an hour or two in the car, singing Stereophonics at the top of my lungs.