Estimated reading time: 6 minutes
Lucy waited patiently at the corner of Ellesmere Avenue. A brief consultation with her watch confirmed that she was both early and on time. At least another ten minutes would pass before Millie greeted her and they would walk the short distance to the school bus stop at Friar’s newsagent. But before then, there was the small matter of Millie’s older brother.
Just turned eighteen, his was a lanky and rakish physique, crowned with a wild mop of feathery brown hair. A shirt corner peeked out at the waist. Tie loosened. Blink-and-you-miss-it stubble seeking more fertile ground to spread. In a word, fit.
“Hi, Liam.”
The young man passed Lucy, the curtain of his hair briefly allowing a peek, the view leading to a grunt. For the sixteen year old, that sound was worth getting up early. He ambled forward, hocked back deep in his throat, dislodged the critter at the third attempt, before lobbing the spit on the ground. Liam was not shy. Nor had he manners. And for some reason, that made her want him even more. She watched as he walked away, perhaps organising his wardrobe into some fashionable shape before his shift at the phone shop. Although, she would like to pretend, on that score, he also didn’t give a shit.
Lucy stood, mesmerised by that swagger, watching the shape as it finally turned out of sight. It wasn’t until she received a playful punch on the arm that she noticed Millie.
“We going to school or what?”
Every morning was the same routine. On their short, ten minute journey, Millie would talk without interruption. Lucy nodded in the right places, but her mind was filled with images of Liam. Tracing his footsteps, seeking his scent like a hound. She sought little clues on their journey, traces that he may have left, unintentionally or not. Her keen eye saw coke cans on the road, surely kicked into touch. Daisy heads on the stretch of lawn along the pavement were scattered. Had he kicked them? Was he feeling angry or playful? A thin low hanging twig from a tree branch had been twisted back on itself. Why hadn’t he snapped it?
Without fail, there was a trail of clotted hocked snots along their route that they would sidestep. Lucy hovered over them as she passed, seeking some indicator of his physical state. Some days, she could see signs of a cold. Others, clear gelatinous floats like marooned jellyfish suggested flu. On more than one occasion, the jelly centre was fused with veins – possibly the result of a wild drunken night before. Those unique missiles had been launched from that sharply curved mouth, and she longed to get close to him. Millie and her brother came from a family that was very strict about staying over, namely, that it wasn’t allowed. When she had asked why that was the case, Millie shrugged her shoulders. And that was the end of that.
They reached the bus stop, where several schoolgoers of different ages were already assembled. The brief adventure that brightened her mornings was parked for another day.
The next two mornings, there was no sign of Liam.
“Oh, he works a later shift now.”
Lucy was crushed. And then, three months later, the trail which had run cold, had warmed again with the young man’s signature spit. The phlegm of passion was rekindled again! The variable weather, even as the winter months approached, threatened to wash away the clues. But they were fresh, and they were undeniably him.
“How’s your brother getting on?” she had asked Millie, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, despite waiting a fortnight to ask.
“Oh, you know.” Lucy didn’t but wished she did. “He’s OK. Got a new job. Mornings again. Think it’s for a clothes shop.”
The subsequent weeks invited trial and error and a boatload of patience. Some mornings, Lucy would be waiting for her schoolfriend a full forty-five minutes before they had agreed to meet, just to see him. He had now taken to smoking, Lucy could see. Lighting up immediately after leaving the family home. The first time he passed, he paused, looked back and smiled. This set Lucy’s chest aflame, turning her legs to quivering beams.
Dutifully, and without complaint, she waited for Millie, passing the time by concocting wild fantasies about how things could escalate with her brother.
And escalate they did. Slowly, at first, as young lovers often do. Their secret morning greetings, turned to chats, evolved to evening trysts – organised around the pretence of homework with Millie. The brief fling burned like a comet, lighting up their skies before, eventually, their paths diverged at the end of the school year. Liam travelled to Australia. Promising to keep in touch. The texts became emails. Emails became likes on social media. Before long, holiday-mode for Liam turned into settling down with a job. Her vision board cruelly betrayed her fantasy of reuniting, let alone seeing him again.
This had also coincided with a major event in the sixteen year old’s life. Lucy gave birth to baby Charlie, a bruising little beefcake that had fought tooth and nail to escape her mommy’s belly. The identity of the father was kept a secret to protect the young mother. People would inevitably gossip, and that was fine by her. She was growing out of her teenage years and a new life was beginning. It was time to shed her old life, and old friends.
Millie visited one morning, seeing Charlie for the first time.
“Can I hold him?” Lucy held him up, supporting his bum so Millie could reach under. “Oh you’re adorable,” she said, bouncing him on her knee. “And those big brown eyes. Sure, you’re the dead spit of our Liam.”
This story was written for the ambitious creative project, ‘The Weekly Kook’, where I release a brand new short story every week for a year, totalling…yep, you guessed it – 52 stories.
Check all the stories here as I release them.
