I wake up in an armchair. My body is curled up in a foetal position with my feet dangling in the air and my neck crooked in a way that feels scary to move too fast. In stretching my back I realise my head has become a fish bowl and even the slightest of movements bring a swishing unease, as if my brain will either roll over inside my head or fall out altogether. I press my fingers against my temple and try to remember who’s armchair I’m on and press deeper as if they’re buttons on a control pad and it hits me; I’m on Katie’s armchair, in Katie’s house, and Katie is on her sofa and smiling at me. “Morning”
She’s in a massive white hoodie with pink pyjama bottoms and white furry slippers. She’s holding a mug of coffee and is watching a singing show on a volume so low it can only be for my benefit. I’m wearing my shoes, jeans, and jumper, but still feel exposed in front of her. I’ve had a crush on Katie since I was thirteen, thirteen years later I still get tongue tied and noticing there’s drool halfway down my chin isn’t helping my confidence. I mumble a “morr-ning” in an embarrassingly sing-song fashion.
“You were asleep there for basically the whole par-“ She corrects herself “-night”
“He’d have wanted a party” I say and smile with my mouth closed as moss has grown on my teeth overnight. “You mind if I have some water?” Katie nods to a glass on the coffee table, next to it is a filled French press that’s yet to be pushed down. “They’re both for you” “Cheers” I rotate my body and feel each muscle within my body creak but the moment the water goes down my throat I instantly feel alive again.
“Fancy a coffee?” “Oh wow. Yes please. Sounds lovely. Thank you” I feel myself being overly polite- a go to instinct when anxious. It’s less a code of conduct and more a nervous reflex. The “Oh wow” is already on an internal loop. “It’s my mums, I’m not sure how it works actually” Katie lets out a one syllable laugh that reminds me more of how she was back in school. When her clothes were predominantly pastel velvet and hair was slicked back into a sharp ponytail. You’d want your hoodie to swallow you whole if one of those big laughs came your way.
Katie pushes down on the French press and I see the bubbles scream against the glass like an impressionist painting. She asks if I want any milk, just black. It’s lukewarm, she asks how it is, I say it’s perfect. I ask her what she’s watching
“It’s The Voice” she can tell I’m clueless
“The Voice? The show. The Voice”
I’m still lost and offer “Like X-factor?” Katie puts her mug down (for dramatic effect) and smiles while while taking an offended tone
“Sean. Are you serious. You’re telling me you don’t know The Voice? The Voice! It’s the best show ever!” Katie’s excitement for The Voice does more to wake me up than the coffee and water. I then remember how much she loved Lamar from Fame Academy. Dinos told me he saw her on tv outside the BBC studios holding a placard declaring her love for him. It was one of the few signs of vulnerability she ever showed in school and everyone was too scared to make fun of her over it. I ask her what makes it special and Katie sits back and holds eye contact with me as if she’s in an interview on This Morning and is enticing a potential viewer to tune in.
“You know how in the music industry, everything is fake right?” I nod, and continue to nod for as long as she talks “This show isn’t about the behind the scenes drama, or how you look. It’s about one thing, the Voice. See, the judges, they don’t actually see the singer till they turned around. They hit this button that turns their chair around and they then see who the singer is and sometimes it’ll be like, someone who wouldn’t usually make it in the industry. One time it was a woman in a wheelchair and Tom Jones hit the button and, I swear it was the most beautiful thing ever. Because if you closed your eyes, you’d have no idea she was in a wheelchair, you know”
I’m trying to listen to Katie while I feel under the cushions for my phone. Assume it’s in my jacket but have no idea where that is either. Pieces of last night begin to click together. Trying to talk to Max about Arsenal’s season while leaving the wake. A small bottle of Famous Grouse from the corner shop. Texting you in Katie’s bathroom. Smiling at Katie and Ben hitting it off in the kitchen, two people who fifteen years ago couldn’t have been further apart regarding taste in music, fashion, and popularity. Inhaling Ricky’s skunk in the garden and immediately feeling wobbly. Keep trying to see myself through memory, like I’m trying to turn a stuck camera in an early Gamecube game. I apologise while interrupting Katie if she’s seen my jacket. She asks what type and I tell her it’s a dark blue Barracuta Harrington. The Baracuta is a pointless distinction but I can’t help myself.
“Oh shit”
“What”
“I think Jamie took it” “He took it?” “I mean he was wearing it when we had to kick him out” Katie rolls her eyes at what she’s about to say “He was just being a massive dickhead. He put Ben in fucking headlock and called Abdi the N word”
“Fucking hell. Abdi?”
”He was always a dickhead wasn’t he. Really. He hasn’t changed”
I down the mug of cold coffee just to give myself some sort of agency. “My phone and wallet are in there” Katie winces.
“Sorry Sean. Shit. Sorry. Want me to call him or text him? I don’t have his number but can message on Facebook or something. Kellan said he’s working today. Which is a little scary”
“Why’s it scary?”
“Because he’s a forklift driver and was off his head on coke last night”
“Oh” My brain flashes to nine year old Jamie dribbling past every player in his grey England away shirt at the Sunday afternoon Hendon football club. Even though I’d know him for a decade on from that point and saw him last night, there’s only one way I can remember him. Back then he was dead-set on becoming a footballer. He was the best in school. Best out of our football club. Better than a hundred other kids, but even at nine, the best where he was meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.
His best friend, and only other kid that rivalled him on the pitch, was Abdi. Most friendships between primary school children only needed to be formed over one mutual interest. Jamie and Abdi’s was stronger as they had football and wrestling. Time split between pretending to either be Scott Hall and Kevin Nash or Bergkamp and Henry. They were The Outsiders, two primary school celebrity disruptors. I push my hands into my face and then through my hair in an attempt to drive the memories out of my head. Katie’s texting on her phone.'
“Yeah. Kellan’s with him now. Apparently he’s really hungover” Katie stays locked in a rhythm of staring at the screen, typing incredibly fast, hitting send, and repeating. I don’t dare say anything at the risk of disrupting focus. The messages come through fragmented and she reads them while staying glued to the phone.
“Okay. He’s got your jacket”
Between every text she reads out it seems like she writes about five in return.
“Jamie says he’s really sorry” Katie rolls her eyes. “Wasteman”
“But it’s not at work it’s in his flat. Fucking hell he’s such a Waste!” Katie puts the phone down, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and picks the phone back up.
“He says he can meet you wherever you want after work around… seven” there’s a pause and Katie looks at me. “Where are you going to be?
Tonight I’m hosting a poetry night, the idea of Jamie attending is a collision of past and present only Roland Emerich could do justice. In my mind two hundred foot waves hitting the coast of New York, earthquakes levelling Tokyo, and Jamie laughing at a non binary nineteen year old’s trans rights poem are all at an equal level of catastrophe.
“Boxpark Shoreditch” Katie gives me a “Suits you” look and types back.
“He’ll be there. He says”
“Cheers Katie” “I’m really sorry- no idea what he was doing with your jacket anyway. He’s a taker though isn’t he. Takes things”
I flash back to the memory I have of Jamie again. “How’s Abdi?”
“Abdi wasn’t even here!, he just started saying it. They used to be proper safe.”
“How was Ben” “He was fine, says he could’ve got out of it but didn’t want to make the situation worse. I mean, he says that”
“Katie, were you two hitting it off last night”
“Who?” “You and Ben. I feel like there was something there” Katie looks at me a little confused and lets out a small laugh to herself, one altogether different from the one I remember.
“Given that he’s been my boyfriend for about two years, I’d hope so”