Adoration

After 83 days of living with him, I think it is time to write about him. My housemate.

I haven’t lived with anyone I didn’t really know before, I won’t holiday with anyone I don’t like, I’ll rarely spend time with people I don’t really know so I technically moved in with a stranger. Yes, he was in my social circle but I never said more than 10 words to him and now here we are living together.

Day 83 has us sitting in the living room together. He is sitting on the couch reading the Sunday Times while I watch him from the kitchen table. I am pondering how to word what I want to say about him.This morning he made me coffee and laughed when I didn’t like it, he toasted my bagel for me and helped to pack my friends suitcase for her.

Usually we stay up late talking to each other, I tell him stories about growing up and he laughs while I recall the silly things that I have done. He has an incredible memory for remember the silly things I’ve said while in his company and he loves to repeat them to anyone who will listen. He loves to sleep and usually starts his “It’s nearly bed time” count down from about 9pm. He picks out music that I have never heard of that he thinks I will like. He is afraid to be in the car with me because he thinks I am a dangerous driver and will sit in the back unless he looses a bet and has to ride shot-gun. He is trying to teach me how to play guitar and he thinks I can play a perfect G. Sometimes he will sit with me and play and when the song requires a G chord, he’ll nod and I’ll play. He tries to make me sing more, and keeps asking us to start a band or go busking. We talk about our families and friends that we had that are no longer around. He loves humous and reggae sauce, he eats creme eggs whole and has a new found addiction to winding me up. We Facebook each other across room, text each other throughout the day and have a handshake that we do before bed time.   Sometimes we hide in my room and talk, sometimes he climbs into my bed when drunk. He always says “Please and Thank you” and always remembers to give me a fake evil look when I leave the door open by accident.  If I tell him something about someone and he repeats it, I get mad, he’ll later take me aside laughing and say “You know it is okay to let someone know that you will miss them”. He is respectful and wise, he doesn’t push his beliefs on anyone and he is generous with his time. He appreciates when I cook for him and he always cleans up after I do. He makes me laugh so hard that I cry and when he is hung over I crawl in next to him to check his pulse. We’ve made some funny traditions and all of them make me feel like I belong here. He gives me advice and reminds me of my self-worth, he helps me to figure things out and he always sits next to me when he thinks I might be feeling lonely.

Most importantly he thinks we are family and that families should look after each other and he does, he takes care of me, even with all my ups and downs. I love my new home, my new family and my new friend, Brian.

Purple and White Dots

My favourite item of clothing is my purple and white polka dot hoodie. I bought it in New York a few years ago and it is my feel good hoodie. I’d wear it for days and days and just feel safe in it. It’s my feel good hoodie.

I realised about a month ago it had gone missing. I looked EVERYWHERE but between living in town and being at my parents and going to work and calling to people I could have left it anywhere! I turned all the houses upside down and sent out texts to the usual girls who rob that hoodie.  No one had it and my housemate joked he was keeping it hostage for a day he really needed money because I would pay big bucks to get it back.

About a month ago, I fell out with a friend, more than a friend really. A best friend, a lover, a secret keeper and someone who lets me hide behind him when I need too. I had called to his house to tell him that he had hurt me and that not only did I not want to sleep with him anymore but I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to even see him again. Like most people I don’t take rejection well and at that point sitting in his living room, I wanted out. I don’t want to surround myself with people who make me feel bad about myself. I walked out with no intention of ever going back.

With emotions running high, some people who know me all too well casually mentioned if I went to talk to him, I might feel a bit better. I tend to call and dump all my worries, fears and problems on him. Then we’ll eat, watch tv, kiss and cuddle and I’ll go home, leaving all the things that were bothering me behind and he’ll get rid of them before I come back the next time.

Despite being of a stubborn nature I caved and contacted him. Explaining that my madness hadn’t subsided but I did need to talk to him. I waited outside the door before even knocking, afraid of what feelings would come flooding when I saw him. I could hear his footsteps getting closer after I knocked and I took one last deep breath and nodded Hello. He asked me to wait, I turned around to see him pull out my purple and white polka dot hoodie from the hot press. I reached out and took it from him, squeezing it tight like a child squeezes a teddy she has been reunited with.

We sat, on the same couch but miles apart. I had my knees up to my chin and my arms wrapped around them. I was in protective mode. I didn’t want to let him in, I just needed to drop off some thoughts so he could dispose of them like he always done. I talked and ranted but the urge to leave was unnatural. I stuck it out and asked how he was. I got a response I wasn’t expecting.

Tears. He started to cry, telling me that he couldn’t have me leave again and filling me in on a story I was not really ready to come to grips with.  I held out my hand and he took it, we sat like that for over an hour talking and consoling each other. When it came time to leave, we clung to each other. Neither one wanting to let go, unsure of how we would next see each other. Would I have to bite the bullet and try to make nice or  would he fight to have me back in his life. Who would put their stubbornness aside and fight for our friendship  first?

I woke up this morning in my hoodie and I was greeting by a text sent while I had been sleeping.

It appears he is willing to fight for it.

Muffled Crying

I came home last night with my headphones on and the music blasting in my ears, I dumped my bag, laptop and coat on the floor and saw my housemates face pop out his bedroom door, he was sitting on the fllor looking up at me. I didn’t smile, I didn’t wave, I didn’t even acknowledge him, I just went straight to  my room.  I climbed into my bed, put the covers over my head and cried, I muffled the sound with a scarf, some pillows and hoped that the music he has on would drown out the sound anyway.

This happens sometimes, the crying. I wasn’t particularally sad about anything, life is life, it has ups and downs but sometimes the crying starts and I never know when it will stop. Of course, I didn’t really mention this to my housemate before moving in with him. I eventually managed to drag myself out of bed and go into him, I sat next to him while he talked about the mundane. Distracted chat really, the tears kept flowing but I kept conversation going.

By the time our other housemate had gotten home, I had calmed down but as soon I caught his gaze, my eyes welled up again. The three of us huddled in one triangular shaped room talked about music and books and did everything to not talk about the fact I had not stopped crying in over an hour.

Being upset is hard work, it can make  girl hungry so I made some dinner and showered, I hadn’t even closed the door before I was bawling again, the boys knocked to make sure I was alright. I wanted to hide, go somewhere nowhere could hear me and cry properly. Long empty sobs, but you have to put on a brave face for people don’t you.

I went to bed for a while with one of them, just too talk, he rubbed my back, ran his fingers through my hair and made me think of  Thailand and other such adventures. When he got sleepy, I returned to the living room, to a patiently waiting housemate. I lay down on the couch and when he had finished tidying away the table he came and sat in front of me, put his arm around me and said I hate to see you so sad. This made me more sad and I couldn’t figure out why.

We sat and talked until all hours of the morning, he listened to me talking about places and people, stories from when I was a kid and new about what had happened that day. He laughed when I asked too many questions and he said all the right things at the right time. I hugged him goodnight and went to bed, closed my eyes and go to sleep and my phone beeped. “You have made a friend for life” it read, and it was from my housemate, who is quickly going up my scale of favourite people to be around.

The happiest little sister

I have a big brother. I love saying that. I have a big brother! His name is Mark. He is 26, just 15 months older than me. Unlike most older siblings he didn’t grow up with me, he was also given up for adoption and ended up infamily who live a few miles away. I met him 7 years ago. I used to bump into him at the shop, video store and at the bus stop, we would talk and share news but it was was never arranged to meet, we’d just have to cross paths. A card at Christmas and a postcard from paradise to make him jealous.

Recently though, thanks to the wonder that is our decling economy, he seems to have gotten himself a job delivering post on my road. Lucky for me, I have Thursday and Friday mornings off and therefore I am called to postal duty where I wander around after him telling stories about my childhood and asking him a million questions about his. It’s only been the last month or so but the other day in passing conversation he called me his sister and I my heart did a little somersault. I am a little sister. Not just anyones though, I am Marks little sister. Therefore this makes me, the happiest little sister alive.

Teach me how to shine

The was only four of us left in the room, it was about 5am, pushing six and he picked up the guitar and started to play a song by the Frames.  To the left of me another guitar got picked up and their voices joined together.  Waiting for the chorus, we joined in. You could feel the room change, like magic sweeping all around us, into our lungs and back out.

“Star Star, teach me how to shine”  Looking around, I got a wink, a smile and I saw tears. It was  one of those moments you couldn’t plan but I knew would be put in a box and remembered forever.

Rushing Home

I had my coat on and my bag thrown over my shoulder. I had to pass her to leave the room, I don’t know her that well, not well enough to hug her goodbye anyway. She reached out and pulled me in to her. We hugged awkawrdly cheek to cheek and lost our balance and fell onto the couch. We laughed and she threw her arms around me and kept me there. I lay there, with my head on her breast listening to her tell stories to the others and for those five minutes I felt surrounded by love and I hardly know her.

Contagious smiles

If  I had to guess I would have said he was about 30, his thin tanned body leaning against the cigarette machine and his dark hair was cut short. I had to walk the length of the shop before I got to the counter to pay for my petrol. “You’re very smiley today” I said.  He took a step forward and laughed, “you smiled at me first” he exclaimed. I rooted through my bag and took out my wallet to count out the change. I could feel him watching me, I glanced up at him and asked “Are you sure I smiled at you first?” I winked and handed him the money. He took it off me and laughed, “yes you did but you made me smile”. I paused and said “Maybe it’ll be contagious”  I was just turning out of the shop when I caught his eye and he shouted “I hope so”