Because I Hear the Voices

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First Girlfriend

“So I met this guy today, a frigging whack job I am sure, green hair, and an eighties styled wardrobe, but once you get through the weirdness he’s not that bad.”

“What do you mean eighties styled wardrobe?” I asked, even though I dreaded the mental picture that was beginning to form in my head.

“Well, he has frayed jeans, high-tops and this vest thing that has like badges all over it. Ones that say ’Happy 13th Birthday’, ‘Smile’ or ‘Life Be in It’. Then there are rainbow ones and Air Force medals, and shit that I haven’t seen since I was a kid. He is wildly unique you know, for a full fledged geek.”

“Yeah… sure…. right.”

“Well, how was your day, meet anyone interesting?”

I shrugged my shoulders and made to walk into the kitchen casually tossing out behind me. “Do you realise that only girls take a Bachelor of Arts?”

“What!” Devlin exclaimed jumping out of his beanbag with surprising agility, in his haste to pursue me.

“Yep, I mean I think I saw ten guys among us today. They were all chicks. The place was literally swarming with hundreds of chicks.”

“Son of a bitch! I have eleven chicks in my class and believe me, they’re nothing to get excited over.”

“Well what did you expect when you took a science course?” I asked opening the fridge and rummaging through the contents.

“Shut up,” Dev muttered good-naturedly and we grinned at each other, feeling more like ourselves with the easy banter, for the first time in months.

“We’re out of beer,” I sighed closing the fridge and leaning back against it.

“I’ll drive,” Devlin responded, snatching up his keys and heading out the front door, with me close at his heels.

It wasn’t until we were in the car and driving towards our destination that Devlin returned to our previous conversation.

“So did you get any of their phone numbers?”

“I’m working on it.” I said as I reached over to tune the station to the alternative rock station I preferred.

“What do you mean your working on it? Ten guys, hundreds of girls; that’s like 20 girls a piece at least.”

“You’re a sick man.”

“Yeah, but accurate.” Devlin emphasized by reaching over and switching the channel back.

“Well there is this one chick, she’s kinda wild. Really artsy you know, with short bleached blonde hair and brown eyes, that you just want to sink into. She was in my Criminal Justice class, and she has this pair of boobs that would put Jessica Myers to shame,” I stated with exaggerated eyebrow movements.

“No shit, really?”

“Mamma.”

“Oh man, you are killing me,” Devlin groaned. “So do you even know her name?”

“Gwyn Michaels.”

“Okay, don’t tell me that Mr. I-can’t-talk-to-anyone Achias actually had the guts to go up to a girl, with huge knockers, and ask her name?”

“No I sat next to her and I saw her name on her book.” I explained as the redness crept up my neck and blossomed at my ears.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Devlin sniggered earning an elbow in the ribs for his trouble.

“Hey you can’t hit the driver whilst the car is in motion!” he protested.

“Yes but technically I didn’t hit you, I elbowed you.”

“Do you want me to drive you to work or not? Cause I have no problem whatsoever in kicking your sorry ass out of the car right here, right now,” Dev joked in his serious manner, that would make most people unsure of his attentions.

“Yeah right, like that’ll ever happen,” I smirked, resting my hands behind my head and looking at him lazily.

“One day Sean. One day I’m going to make you eat those words.”

“Yeah, right and one day you’ll marry Jennifer Aniston, settle down with her and have three kids.” I scoffed good naturally.

“Hey, it could happen!”

“Not even you Dev, could get a babe like that.”

“I don’t want a pig.”

“Well that’s probably as close as you’ll get to the real thing.” I snorted at the vision that popped into my head starring Devlin in a tux and a large pig in a white wedding dress.

“Yeah, well we’ll see, we’ll see.”

* * *

“Why do I have to be the one who keeps the bloody house clean and tidy? I am sick to death of it,” I whined to Dev after only five months into our living arrangements.

“Because, lamebrain, you can’t cook worth shit, so I get kitchen duty, every night remember, whilst you have to clean the dump only once a week. Bloody fair if you ask me,” Devlin informed me smugly.

“And it did sound fair until I realised I had to pick up after a sloth and his drinking buddies after their all night parties,” I mumbled as I went around the living room, tossing empty beer cans into a large garbage bag, and stepping awkwardly over semi-conscious bodies.

Since university had started 2 months ago, Devlin’s computer nerd friend Giles had become this almost permanent fixture in our lives and sadly too in our home.

“Just because after one and a half months of dating you still haven’t got into ‘what’s-her-faces’ pants, doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me. You’re just pissed because if you stayed at home you could have had fun, instead of dying of boredom last night at that ‘arty-farty’ club that she belongs to. What did they have on there last night anyway? Wasn’t it a poetry night or some shit?” Devlin chuckled under his breath.

“Oh for God’s sake don’t remind me.” I begged as I sat down heavily on one of the many beanbags with a heartfelt sigh. “It was awful Dev, this dude came on smothered in white paint or flour or some such shit, wearing this wrap-around skirt thingy, like they wore in ancient Rome and spoke for like half an hour, running up and down the stage and flapping his arms like a fucking bird. And when I laughed Gwyn poked me in the ribs and told me off because I didn’t appreciate fine art and dramatic effect, and we had this argument about her idea of fun and my idea of entertainment. Let’s just say we agreed to disagree and I got up and broke the chair I had been sitting on by smashing it into the wall and then stormed out of the place,” I said feeling the guilty tension worming through my stomach.

What I didn’t add was that after not dreaming about T.R for the last two months, he had come last night and told me something that still echoed in my head. He had come to me, looking wired and he kept darting his eyes around him while he spoke in a voice that was almost girlish.

“Feels good doesn’t it Sean to let out the violence. You wanted to do more than hurl that chair didn’t you? You wanted to hurt her. You felt that pricking sensation in your neck and a rush of satisfaction that you knew would only be achieved fully if you had smacked that superior look off her face. She’s been tying you in knots for months and she dumped you without a second glance, for that gay prick parading himself around in his underwear. Bet she’s with him right now; bet she didn’t make him wait to get into her panties. The bitch’s probably fucking him even now.”

The worst part was I did feel like he said; I had woken up wanting to choke the life out of her.

“Hey Sean, that’s great! She was a bitch anyway, and you are far better off without her. What you need to do is start having what is commonly referred to as ‘casual sex’, which equals no frustration and plenty of variety. After all we are young and if we can’t enjoy our youth we’ll end up bitter old fools,” Giles informed me in a muffled voice from underneath a cushion.

“Shut up G-man,” Dev said, kicking his friend in the leg before turning back to me. “You ok man? Shit, of course you’re not. Hey don’t worry about the mess, Giles and I’ll clean it up,” he said as he ran a nervous hand through his hair and over his bleary eyes. “What you need is breakfast, and friends and a cup of coffee,” he informed me as he guided me by the shoulders into the kitchen.

“Coffee,” he almost whimpered as he pulled out his treasured container of imported beans.

“Tea,” I said as I searched through the cupboard stacked full of potato chips and baked bean cans for my packet of herbal tea, the one thing I had found I couldn’t give up from my life with my parents.

“Yuck,” came the response from Devlin, Giles and this girl Corey that Giles had brought along to a night of drinking, who had until that moment not shown any signs of consciousness. Glancing over my shoulder I noticed that we all looked as if we had seen better days, and I grimaced along with everyone else when Devlin dropped the cast iron frying pan on the floor, to the horror of everyone’s abused heads.

“Klutz,” I remarked and for my crime had the sugar pot thrown at my head.

When it crashed to the floor, Devlin merely said, “But you can clean that up.”

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