What's Next? - Part 1 - Story

I was possibly in the worst bar in Bristol, stuck on a work outing. I stood there with my water, determined to keep to my newest fad of no alcohol or tobacco. I was surrounded by menopausal women, old men and drunken teenagers who weren’t old enough to get in a decent place. My eye casually noticed how everyone, when dressed up, looked the same.

A Dad walked up to me, ‘Do you know you are the most beautiful woman in this room?’

I sighed and looked him in the eye, ‘Yes of course.’

He looked at me, ‘You’re different.’ 

I tried not to laugh as he proceeded to try every pick-up line in the book within the first five minutes. I wondered how many encounters he would have before closing time.

During his second spate of compliments he developed some sort of facial gesture that made him close his eyes like my cat, and I half expected the Dad to start purring. My eyes caught his desperation and beads of sweat dropped on to his open collar, where grey chest hairs poked out.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ I looked at my full glass, showed it to him and shook my head. He looked at my glass and said, ‘Oh come on, have a drink, you only live once.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, surprised.

  ‘What?’ he looked confused.

  ‘You only live once...?’

I mulled over the previous night’s encounter in my head as I buried my head further into my quilt. My surprise at a lack of hangover did not stop my usual habit of wanting to sleep more than is necessary.  Yet with no headache to lure me back to unconsciousness, my desperate attempt to while away my Sunday morning ended when my cat used my head as a stepping stone to get to the window, letting daylight stream in my room. I looked at the clock and groaned - 8.15am - surely a body should have a separate Sunday programme.

My cat was already ahead of me as I entered the kitchen, and meowed beside his food bowl which had crusty remains and dried up gravy from his feast yesterday. He pretended to like me as I headed for the kettle, stroking my calves with his head, looking up at me as if he hadn’t been fed in a week, contrary to his stomach which found just enough air between it and the floor.

My cat’s name is Dilbert and a constant companion. To him I am doing just fine as long as there is food in the bowl, enough heat so he doesn’t freeze and a comfortable bed to sleep on and though I love him dearly I can’t help but think there should be something more in my life.

The kettle boiled and I put an organic yarrow tea bag in a mug, another experiment, which tasted like bitter water. I looked longingly at the normal tea bags my housemate, Shoobs, has and in my mind I nostalgically traipsed back to a time when I would sit and drink about 10 cups a day, unknowingly causing issues to my body. My yarrow bobbed impatiently as I fed the cat and walked into the living room. I automatically put the TV on without thinking, and suddenly my mind wandered back to my conversation with the Dad last night.

  ‘Course you only live once what kind of daft question is that?’ Dad was looking nervous now. I guessed this question wasn’t in his usual call and response mating routine.

  ‘Well, you are directly contradicting some of the major religions of our time.’

Totally non-plussed and more than a bit frustrated, he asked me, ‘What are you? Some fucking Buddhist? I only asked if you wanted a drink.’

Zen-like, I smiled, turned away and joined my workmates in their drunken revelry.

To be honest, I am not religious. My mother brought me up to attend The Salvation Army but I left during my early teens, and I have floundered with the thought of religion or spirituality ever since. It’s alright for Shoobs. He’s a Hindu and gets to have all the fun. They have the coolest celebrations and sometimes I won’t see him for weeks on end, because Meenakshi down the road got married, or it’s Diwali or something like that.

But I am left with what is supposed to be Christianity; all I can see is that only the Roman Catholics get something out of their religion as they are at least allowed to have a bit of alcohol and some bread during mass.

There have been times on a Sunday morning when I've felt the need to do something religious. I guess it’s ingrained in me, so I will go into a random church. However, I have had to stop doing this because once this lady started complaining about my snoring, apparently it disturbed some people. I can’t help it if services are boring, and early. At least the Salvation Army threw in a brass band and some tambourines to make the time go faster, failing that you were always allowed to clap your hands during the songs.

Dilbert wandered in the room, walked up to the heater and started his morning wash. Sometimes I think life would be better if I were a cat. I would be better at yoga for a start, which I would show off at any given moment whilst I washed my arse in front of my chosen audience. I would sleep better and definitely have no worries about my future that seemed to plague my human self.

I pulled out one of my files that I started writing in, opened it up and at the top in capital letters the words ‘BETH’S GOALS/THINGS TO DO LIST’ faced me. This is my current top ten list for my life.

1. Figure out what to do with my life

2. Learn a language

3. Learn to play guitar

4. Find a new job

5. Save money

6. Go on holiday somewhere warm

7. Buy Caroline a top for her birthday

8. Ring Mum and Dad - let them know I am alive

9. Get cat food

10. Stop thinking about Callum

I noted grimly to myself that the only thing I had accomplished this week is the ₤20 I put in my savings account.

Dilbert walked over, sat on my list and farted. The smell started to rise as he raised his head for a kiss but the odour was pungent, I got up and started to do something with my life.   

......................................................

Caroline called me and groaned down the telephone, ‘Please tell me I didn’t.’

  ‘Didn’t do what?’

  ‘I didn’t snog a guy old enough to be my father.’

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ the sigh of relief down the phone was quite audible. ‘You snogged someone who is old enough to be your grandfather.’

  ‘Oh nooooo, I will never live this down at work,’ the moaning started. ‘What was I doing? I thought that was just part of this nightmare I was having.’

  ‘What was it like?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Snogging a granddad.’

  ‘Well if it’s anything like my nightmare, it’s just like kissing a boy but their lips are thinner and you feel sick afterwards.’

  ‘Mmmm... nice.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ and I heard her running and retching at the same time.

I put down the phone and chuckled to myself and though I felt sorry for my friend’s predicament and know she will probably have to start a new job for all the teasing she’ll get, at least she knows she will survive all the same. And just as soon as that thought entered my head, a second thought automatically arose. What for? What are we surviving for? Why are we alive? If growing up, settling down, having kids so they can grow up and settle down after us, is it. What’s the point? To me that just seemed so futile... so boring. And I am back to where I started again. Except this time I am washed and clothed ready for the day ahead. Unlike Shoobs, who knocked on my door, fell on my bed and asked if I had made him breakfast.

  ‘Shubhankar, man, what did your last slave die of?’

  ‘Too much sex and not enough shopping.’ 

I cracked a grin and told him that his organic yarrow tea, rye bread and fresh fruit juice is waiting downstairs for him in its natural state.

  ‘Where’s my chai, idly and samba?’

  ‘At your mother’s’

  ‘Mmm... chai-ah. Bye Bettina’ with that his long lean lanky brown legs, which I tried to emulate every summer and failed miserably, walked out of my room.

I cleaned up my bedroom and was ready to face the world outside. I grabbed some money and walked to the local shop and bought organic vegetables for my new juice diet. As I finished packing I noticed a poster. It was bright yellow and had a Buddha on top, sitting serenely on top of some writing about a centre giving free classes on meditation and Buddhist teachings. The owner of the shop came over, ‘You interested?’

  ‘Er, I don’t know.’ 

  ‘Supposed to be good, might go meself if I find a sitter for the babe.’

  ‘Is the Buddha a real person or is it just a symbol?’

  ‘Oh, Buddha’s real alright. This one left his wife and baby once he noticed people got sick and crinkly. He wanted to find a way not to be like that or summin’. Don’t know how he could’ve done that meself, though I could strangle the little ‘un sometimes.’

  ‘Oh right,’ I mentally took note of the date and time and as I walked home I mulled it over in my mind.

As I returned I noticed that Shoobs was chatting away but his mobile was still in the hall, and suddenly I heard Frieda’s laugh. I walked in on them sitting in the kitchen drinking tea, Frieda casually flirting with Shoobs in her lowest cut daytime top. ‘Hi Beth, I nicked one of your weirdo teas,’ she brought her mug up in a mock toast and took a swig. ‘Urgh, that’s rank.’

  ‘Which one did you take?’

  ‘The green tea.’

  ‘Did you take out the tea bag after three minutes?’ I asked. She pulled the bag from the cup and grimaced.

I smiled and put the kettle back on. ‘What are you up to on Thursday?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well there is this Buddhist thing on and I thought you might want to come along.’

  ‘Will there be any fit Buddhists?’

  ‘Guess so. They’d probably be real chilled which would make them sexy.’

  ‘Alright, sounds like a laugh.’

  ‘Freeds they’ll be too interested in meditating to engage in the stuff you want,’ Shoobs said as he drank his tea.

  ‘Shoobs you’re just jealous because these Buddhists have sex in a different way. They have all that tantra and stuff, don’t they? Sounds like fun to me,’ Frieda looked at me.

  ‘Do they?’ I asked, imagining us all having to find gorgeous partners and try out different Buddhist sexual positions.

Shoobs looked at us as if we were both mad. ‘Do you two know nothing? Tantra isn’t a religion.’

  ‘Can we learn tantra then?’ Frieda looks at me and Shoobs.

  ‘Hey Freeds, I like you but I don’t think we are at that stage in our relationship… I think we should try out the Buddhists first.’  


Continued Part 2: What's Next? - Part 2


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