Struck by Lightning

2. I'm The Only One

Friday night, nine months later. Amanda was at home alone. She sat in her fifties-style, green velour armchair, her feet curled up underneath her. She hadn't moved for at least three hours, perhaps more. Wine coolers lined up on the wooden floor in front of her to keep her bottles of Pinot Grigio cold, removing the need to go back and forth to the kitchen. But by 11 p.m. and two bottles down, she no longer cared what temperature the liquid was. She enjoyed the chill in her veins rather than on her tongue.

She'd not closed the curtains or turned the lights on, and since the sun dropped below the trees on the horizon hours earlier, the only light was coming from the TV and her phone screen. Her house was in the depths of the English countryside so it wasn't as if there would be any passers-by to witness her, sat alone in the darkened room.

Most of the week, loneliness was a welcome companion to the once sociable redhead. But whenever Friday rolled around and she drank too much, it brought on a desperate need to connect with someone. She scrolled through her contacts, wondering who to reach out to, passing many names of people she had once been close with but not spoken to for months. Anyone would do, but who would talk back? Who might want to hear from her? Was she really the only one who needed to talk to someone?

Her mobile still stored the numbers of ex-boyfriends, and the drunk part of her thought it might be fun, (and by fun she meant self-esteem boosting) to get in contact with one of them. Definitely not Brian, the most recent casualty. Instead, she hovered over a particular favourite of hers, agonising over how to approach him. Could she have misdialed? Or pretend something happened that reminded her of him?

She rolled her eyes at herself and continued scrolling. She passed Suzy, the blonde bombshell she had always been good friends with but who had moved to the other side of the world. She was the kind of friend you had to explain to your other friends before they met her. Suzy's almost white blonde hair reached her hips, and her red pouty lips framing her mouth with the quick wit and filth that often came out of it were an interesting contrast to her Disney princess tattoos that ran up her arms.

In contrast, Amanda's equally long, naturally auburn hair was usually dyed a dark shade of red and her eyes permanently framed in thick, black eyeliner. She never wore any other make-up; her eyeliner and mascara were the only two things she ever needed.

They made a striking pair, and their conversations had always been laced with sarcasm, profanities and love. But the oceans in between them were too wide for that love to stretch across. They never responded to each other's messages within a sensible timeframe thanks to the time difference and, as a result, the stuttering conversations dried up a long time ago. Remembering the slow death of their friendship made her stomach hurt.

Vivienne. She spotted her mum's number and kept going.

When she reached the end of her list, she flipped to social media to discover if anyone was online she could chat to. School friends she had patchy memories of, who wouldn't remember her? Old work colleagues, who hadn't been work colleagues for years? Distant cousins? Her brother's ex-girlfriends? Why was she friends with these people anyway?

She was about to give up when a photo flashed up that made her smile. The hot guy from outside the hospital. Frederick Young. Hey you! She sat up a little straighter.

"Frederick," she said his name out loud enjoying how it sounded, stressing each syllable, rolling the second R.

His restaurant appeared to have won an award and his smiling face, framed by his dark hair, shone out at her from her screen.

She'd had no contact with him since the day they met, but she had been online-stalking him for a while. She'd googled his business and read all about him, revealing it wasn't only a restaurant he owned but a natural food company. He'd been in a lot of articles in the local news too, and as promised, he popped up in The Times magazine a month after their meeting, dressed in that navy suit. She'd wasted countless hours looking at his social media accounts, feeling as though she knew him; building a picture of him in her mind. He'd come to life in her imagination. And her imagination was pretty wild.