Tuesday, 21 February 2012
The Mr Darcy Complex 3. The Mother of all Hangovers
1. 3. The Mother of all Hangovers
As I lay in bed clutching my hot water bottle and praying to God that I didn’t throw up I received a phone call.
“Abigail are you up?” Said a familiar high pitch voice.
“Hello mother, no, no I am not. That’s why I answered the phone,” I replied looking at the clock. It was 9.55am. Good grief why does she like to do this to me.
“Don’t get sarcastic with me young lady; I am outside open the door,”
“What! You’re here?” I replied falling out of bed. My hot water bottle thumped to the floor and I staggered to my feet, head throbbing with the pain of a hangover. Stumbling around attempting to tidy up random parts of my flat, throwing my shoes I wore the night before in my bedroom and flicking the switch of the kettle. I opened the door and there was my mother. She was wearing her usual dark blue jacket, high heels and sunglasses that made her look like an insect. It was a slight contrast to the pyjamas and mess of hair that I seemed to be fashioning.
“Well don’t you look a sight for sore eyes,” She said, peering over her glasses and brushing past me into the flat. “You do realise you live in what can only be considered nothing short of a pig sty”.
“Yes mother, I have been a bit busy with my research,” I replied, making the tea.
“Excuses get you no where Abigail. Now, how are things?” She said sitting down on the sofa and dismissively staring round my flat. Bringing the tea, I sat down next to her, praying this would be a short visit. My mother only ever visited me when it was an annual visit, she would come in slag off where I live, ask me why I am not married to a billionaire yet and for the billionth time ask what on earth I do.
“Everything is fine thanks mum. I am researching the literary and scientific theories that influenced Frankenstein and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde for my A Level literature class and just generally getting along with life, how are you? How’s dad?”I replied sipping my tea and praying my hangover would sod off.
“Sounds thrilling,” She said, staring at her tea with a stupid disappointment face on. “Your father’s fine. He won’t listen to me about his cholesterol level sky rocketing, can you give him a call he might listen to you. Your grandmother is still mental and your sister is off in France at the moment doing a placement in some French hospital. So anyone new on the scene?” She always liked to get straight to the point of the conversation.
“No, no one new mother,” I picked up my papers and began to put them into order whilst also looking for some head ache tablet to get rid of my splitting headache.
“Oh I see. Shame. What happened to that man at the college?” she said.
“You mean Simon, the work experience boy, who was three years younger than me and was horrendous and wanted to glare at all the girls?”I replied
“Oh I see. Well let me know when you finally catch a fish as it were. Now, I need to go and have coffee with Jeanette and rub it in her face that your father is taking me to the Caribbean. Be good and tidy this place up, you won’t attract any men in this state young lady.” She said swishing her way towards to door. Opening the door for her she kissed me on the cheek, pulled out her phone and began to text like fury, probably telling my sister I still don’t have a man yet.
I really don’t think she will ever understand what it is like to have someone hurt you that badly. She met my dad when they were both eighteen and they just fit and mum was never allowed boyfriends before then. It’s quite sweet really, I would love to find someone who I can have that sort of a relationship with but I am literally never EVER that lucky. The men I seem to meet these days always seem bothered about short term flings. It also doesn’t help that sometimes, even if I am with a guy, insecurities rear there oh so very ugly heads once in a while. For example, when I was with Marcus, he had a close female friend who I thought was lovely, very down to earth and all round good egg. If I went away for anything I could generally count on her to keep him on the straight and narrow, even when he got drunk. I should have got the hints when he kept saying really stupid things like “Oh, your friend Twix saw me and Jen today have coffee, I think she thinks we are having an affair, how stupid is she!” He used to laugh it off, whilst it used to stick with me for ages. Why bring it up when I knew they were just friends? Why even use the word “affair”? I knew that he was close with his friend Jen, they had practically grown up together, yet when he began saying things like that jealousy rose with a vengeance. It has always been a flaw of mine, jealously and over protectiveness. I don’t know why but it was something I couldn’t hide. I tried to ask him about it once, he shouted at me for not trusting him and if I was jealous then how could we be together. It turned me into a wreck. I don’t ever want to go back there but I know that it will probably plague me for my future. As soon as I will get happy with a guy, BLAM! It’ll come back and bite me on the ass. This is why I sometimes wonder why I am plagued by the Mr Darcy Complex. I want to find the ideal man, yet I am pretty sure if I do he’ll run a mile.
After thinking for a seriously long time, I was snapped back to reality by the phone ringing. Leaping up in shock, papers flew everywhere. I launched myself at the phone before it hit answer phone.
“Hello?” I asked, attempting to sound alive.
“ABBIE! THANK GOD YOU ARE AWAKE!” Said a very angry Twix. “I NEED YOUR HELP!”
My instinctive thought was it was another crisis and that I should either get a book to read or swiftly put the phone down. I am however not that mean.
“Calm down Twix what’s wrong?” I asked taking a seat.
“WELL, I asked a guy out to that Reading Rooms thing tonight and he has bailed on me. So I am stuck looking like Billy no mates and he is probably going out with some other woman because I am not perfect! Why do men always like the pretty ones?” She began to cry. Twix never liked imposing on people or asking people to do stuff, she always hints, and most of the time if she hadn’t already invited me then she would end up asking me to go.
“Oh Twix don’t cry, is there anyone else you could take? A friend maybe?” I replied, dragging this out for a bit.
“Well everyone seems busy. I don’t suppose you’re busy are you?” She asked with an element of hope in her voice.
“What time and where?” I asked, thinking about what to wear.
“THANK YOU!!! Oh you utter life saver. Eight o’clock, my house, we are going to a reading at the Reading Rooms, and then there is a buffet and such. I know a few talent scouts are going so it would really help my career take off. I owe you big time for this Abs. I must dash! Text me later dear. LOOOVEEE YOOOOOU” She shouted down the phone.
“I love you too,” I replied. I placed the phone back on the stand and my stomach made an almighty rumble. Back to bed for a sleep, then something tasty for breakfast, can’t be hungover tonight. Not drinking...much.
by Abigail Barton