Caught In Between

2024

‘WATCH OUT!’

The voice shouting as I stumbled out of the ladies’ toilets was a mixture of aggression and annoyance as my body hit hard against theirs, causing the contents of his pint glass to spill down his black band t-shirt and across the floor.

“I’m so sorry…” I started to apologise, but my voice trailed off mid-sentence the moment I looked up from his beer-soaked t-shirt and realised who I’d just bumped into.

Shit!

The moment happened so fast. It felt like a blur, but his face sobered me instantly.

How did I not notice before?

“James!” I said, much louder than intended.

I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice.

“You’re back then?” his tone was blunt.

Pissed off, to be precise.

Was it a question, or was he stating the obvious?

It wasn’t hard to tell. He was pissed off. The unpleasant expression etched across his face spoke volumes.

Spilt beer aside, he wasn’t happy to see me.

“Can I get you another?” I smiled, choosing to avoid his question and offer an olive branch.

It was the least I could do, all things considered.

Was I expecting him to tell me to fuck off? Definitely.

Was I expecting him to turn down the offer of a free drink? Not exactly.

It was an accident. Anybody could see that, but he accepted my offer, nonetheless.

I nervously followed behind him as we made our way to the bar.

We stood side by side, awkwardly waiting in silence to be served.

Once I’d been served, paid, and our drinks were finally in hand, it should’ve been my cue to leave.

His drink was replaced. My debt was paid, but perhaps I hadn’t completely sobered, like originally suggested, when I found myself agreeing to go outside for a smoke.

It was stupid for two reasons.

Firstly, I didn’t smoke.

Secondly, I didn’t need to spend unnecessary time with James.

I blame the nostalgia, but being here was having a weird effect on my senses, and I knew nothing good could come of it.

It felt strange being back here after seventeen years.

It was one of the pubs I drank in as a teen, and it felt like nothing had changed since. Including the custom!

“No thanks,” I declined, taking a sip of my Coke before placing the glass down on an empty picnic table.

The condensed glass felt cold against my fingers in the crisp, early November air.

“What brings you back?” he asked, lighting his cigarette before taking a drag and letting smoke fill the air around us. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

“Work mostly,” I replied.

I watched as he took another puff of his cigarette.

He took a swig of his pint, and I watched him alternate between the two as we stood in silence.

“Mostly?” he quizzed, seemingly unsatisfied with my answer.

It was mostly the truth.

James and I were no longer friends. Did he need the specifics?

If it wasn’t for the drink incident, I’m sure a word wouldn’t have passed between us.

“I broke up with my boyfriend,” I confessed.

I felt uncomfortable having this conversation with James as I awkwardly shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m back at The Cutting Corner. I’m covering nine months of maternity leave,” I smiled, attempting to change the subject to something less personal.

“And then what?” he quizzed, as blunt as ever.

Was he hoping I’d say leave?

He made a fair point.

It was the same question I’d been asking myself.

I thought it would be easy coming back.

A temporary solution to fix my problems with no fear of attachment.

I thought it would be easy to leave again, but the two months I’ve been back, I’ve been falling in love with the place all over again.

The saddest part? None of it was permanent.

Without The Cutting Corner, I had no reason to stay.

“No permanent reason to stay?” he asked again, as if he’d stood and read my mind.

“Not unless I have something to stay for,” I shrugged.

“Adam?” he spat.

He downed the last of his pint and slammed the empty glass on the table beside us.

There was a hint of bitterness behind his words.

Was it the real James talking, or was it the alcohol?

It was hard to judge, but I didn’t like it.

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

I found it difficult to hold back my anger.

“Admit it. Why else would you come back?”

“I just told you why!” I said, struggling to hold my composure.

How dare he?

“You know what? I’m not doing this,” I raised my voice.

I didn’t owe James an explanation.

I didn’t owe him anything, so I walked away.

History repeated itself, and I wanted to be as far away from here as possible.

I battled back the emotions as I walked from the pub, holding back the tears until I was a safe distance away.

He shouted my name, but I refused to look. Instead, I picked up pace and ignored his drunken attempt at an apology as I turned the corner.

I was finally out of sight.

I could finally breathe again, but I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

They were streaming down my face.

I focused on getting to the car park as my body began to shake against the cold.

It felt uncontrollable.

I felt the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end.

I felt the goosebumps scatter across my skin.

My adrenaline began to ease.

It was replaced by an unpleasant chill that settled in.

The temperature had dropped since I first arrived tonight, and I regretted not bringing a coat.

I felt envious that I wasn’t still inside the warm, cosy pub, celebrating my boss’s birthday, and instantly reminded myself I should let one of my colleagues know I’d left without warning.