“Get a move, Colin!” I yell up the stairs and tap my foot. In my arms there are two bouquets and I try to hold them away from myself so they don’t get crumpled. Inside my head there are bees buzzing, upstairs Colin is running in circles trying to dry his hair and get into his trousers and find his wallet.
I pace back and forth before stopping and yelling at Colin again. He answers something lamely and I flick my gaze sideways, where Jonny is sitting on the couch, watching the TV on the low volume and strumming his acoustic. The bend of his elbow is scolding me. I stare at his white socks guiltily until I hear Colin coming rushing downstairs.
“Okay,” I say, skimming him briefly and showing him the bouquets, “Lilies or orchids?”
“No roses?” he frowns, peeking behind my shoulder. I roll my eyes, shake the bouquets to get his attention.
“Lilies or bloody orchids? One of them said she liked lilies, the other one said orchids. My part was buying them, your part was remembering which liked what.”
“Ummm,” Colin scratches his head, “I think the brunette one liked lilies.”
“They are both brunette, Colin,” I sigh, “Do you even remember which one was yours?”
“The one that liked lilies.”
“D’you remember her face then?”
“No.”
“Brilliant. D’you reckon they remember our faces?”
“What’s the difference?”
“What if I was going to marry one of them? And what if since I don’t know which is which I’m going to pick the wrong one?”
“Weeeell,” Colin rubs his chin, “What if that girl which you picked the first time was not actually the one and that the second one is really the one you’d want to marry and us mistaking today is actually making your life in the future better?”
“If you this is going to ruin my life...bloody hell... Lilies or orchids?”
“I’ll take lilies.”
The next day we all sit in Jonny’s room because it’s bigger and Ed crosses his legs and smiles into his teacup, the guitar on his lap. Phil twirls his drumsticks awkwardly and taps his foot, in this semi-musical session he feels left out without the drum kit. Colin and I share the couch and the story of the previous night, while Jonny is sitting by the stereo and playing along with music. His hair hangs low and I don’t know if he looks at me when I speak.
“Betty and Lizzy,” Ed smiles, flashing his teeth, “Sounds familiar.”
“Shut up, you don’t know them,” Colin snaps, almost sitting up from his half-lying position on the couch. His hands are folded on his stomach.
“Wasn’t it Becky?” I ask.
“I’m pretty sure it was Betty,” Colin smiles at the ceiling.
“Do you still have their phone numbers?” I ask and Colin reaches into his back pocket. On the napkin there are two numbers. Unlabeled.
“I better phone her,” Colin mutters, getting up, “I promised I’d call as soon as I got home.”
He leaves the room and we all catch whiff of perfume. Ed becomes a Cheshire cat all of the sudden.
“Stud,” he says, taking a drink from his cup. Phil grins. I grin. Jonny’s face is still hidden by his hair. I look at him for a second and imagine him turn his face a little toward me.
Ed goes downstairs to refill the cup and Phil spends a couple awkward minutes looking periodically at me, Jonny, his drumsticks and the window. He then gets up and leaves the room without a word and I hear him running down the stairs into the basement. In a couple of moments there’s a rattle of the drum.
Jonny still plays along the stereo. I get up and pick up the record jacket and pretend that I’m reading the back of it. I do it in the most apologetic way. He just resets the song and starts playing from the beginning.
I sigh and stand by the window, holding myself, and when I turn around he hasn’t changed his posture. I frown and sit across of him and watch his fingers move and his hair floating in the air, but still there’s no answer. I tap my foot and move my chair closer to him and he moves – well, shifts, really – just a tiny bit away. I’m furious then and so I reach over and turn the volume up on the stereo, breaking his intimate world. He scowls and changes it back. When I reach over again he slaps my hand away and I almost laugh, looking at his face and seeing the red in his cheeks. Noticing the change in my breathing he looks up at me and I swear he has the murderous look in his eyes – bollocks, I think he can actually thrash my skull with that look. I bite my lip and he lowers his eyes to his guitar once again, so I huff and take it away from him and throw it (gently) on the bed.
In the cold of the winter, when we are all shivering and surviving only on hot cups, he pushes me onto the floor and when I stop struggling and even drape my arms over his back he climbs lower and takes off my boots and socks. Then he stands up, opens the window and throws them outside. They land in the pile of snow.
I stare at him from the floor in disbelief and he stares down at me, and then there are footsteps and Ed in the doorframe.
Jonny hides his face and resumes the position with the guitar. I feel my toes getting numb.
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