Chapter 16 - Jim, Monday

Well, today didn’t exactly go as I’d expected it to!

It started off well - I’d had a nice evening in last night: got back from my walk, made some food, then settled down on the sofa with some old films and got stoned with the cat. Well, the cat didn’t get stoned, he just lay with his head in my lap occasionally giving me a disapproving frown. Or that could have just been me getting a bit paranoid…
I woke up feeling well rested, despite the fact I woke up on the sofa with a dry mouth and the cat asleep on my chest. He wasn’t happy when I tried to move him and dug his claws in just to be spiteful. It took me a while to lose the stiffness in my neck, the sofa not being the most comfy of places to sleep. Not that I’d ever really wanted to.

So I got into work feeling quite of good about things. It was Monday, there was hope. I had nothing bad scheduled for the whole day, just lots of administrative stuff. I could pretty much get my head down and get on with it and the day would fly by. Which is pretty much what it did. I nipped out a lunchtime for sandwiches and was surprised by how warm it was, so when I spotted an empty bench near the shops I grabbed it and ate outdoors. It was almost sunny enough for sunglasses, and certainly not cold enough for a coat. it was a nice change from the office and it even sent me back whistling. God knows what it was, something I’d overhead in a shop I guess, but it surprised me and made me smile.

The afternoon flew by too. I was stuck into a report and didn’t notice how quickly the day had gone by until people started walking past the office door and saying ’good-bye’. I decided to hang around and finish what I was doing as I was so close to the end and had hit my stride, so I was nearly the last person in the building for a change. I was just logging off my computer and wondering what to do for the evening when the phone rang. It was Simon, although I didn’t immediately recognise him - he was agitated about something and I wondered if he might have been crying. Once I got him to slow down and start again it turned out they’d just announced there were going to be redundancies where he works, and he was panicking it might be him. He was looking for some company, and as I was in a sociable mood I said I’d meet him. Poor bloke, he’s had that job forever, and although he loves to moan about it he’d be devastated if he lost it. I’m not sure he’d be able to get another - he’s lost so much of the spark he had when he was younger. I don’t know where it’s gone, but it’s slowly ebbed out of him. The job can’t have helped, but I think it might have more to do with his mother - slowly bleeding the life out of him, clinging onto him and not letting him get on with his own life. He really ought to stand up to her and get out more, but none of us really expect that to happen either. And he really ought to just come out as well - enough of this indecision, he’s old enough to know what he likes, and we all know that it’s men! I think it’d bring him closer to Nick as well, it seems such a waste that they don’t get on.
So I grabbed my stuff and headed home to change. The cat gave me a weary, “what now?” look as I sailed through the door and into the bedroom without pausing to stroke his head and say “hello”. He’d live. I jumped in the shower, redressed in something pubby and was out of the door again in twenty minutes flat. Poor cat, I bet he didn’t know what had hit him! Except I forgot to feed him - luckily I remembered before I got to the end of the road, so I headed back, made my apologies and left him tucking into some foul smelling thing with pasta in it. Pasta for cats? The world’s gone mad!

Simon was already at the pub when I got there, and unusually for him he’d gone in on his own and got himself a drink. He sat in a corner fiddling with a beer mat, looking the epitome of miserable. I waved, made the universal sign of ‘getting a pint’ then headed to the bar to do just that. By the time I got to the table he’d shredded the bar mat and had started on another. I pinched it from him for my pint, because that kind of incessant fiddling really bugs me, and because apparently ripped bar mats drive barmen mad. No idea why or how I knew that, but that’s what someone told me.
Simon did in fact look like he’d been crying - his eyes were red and he looked more miserable than normal. For the next hour or so he told me about the whole thing - how people were getting made redundant; how he feared he’d be one of them as nobody at work liked him; how he thought he’d never be able to find any other work because he was useless; how his life was pointless and stupid. By this point we were on our third pints, and it occurred to me that if we didn’t eat something soon we were really going to feel bad in the morning. Unfortunately the pub was one of the few that had resisted the trend to serve food - from what I’d seen our only options were crisp or nuts, neither of which were going to impede our drunkeness. But moving seemed like a very bad idea. And yet waking up the following day feeling like shit didn’t seem to good a plan either.
So I did the sensible thing and suggested we get a takeaway and head back to mine. If the worst came to the worst the cat would have to share the sofa for a second night running, but I was hoping food would sober Simon up enough to get a taxi home. The takeaway options are a little limited in my part of town - chips or Chinese, or the kebab shop if you’re really drunk and desperate. Thankfully we were neither, so Chinese it was. A good plan as it happens as the food is good and they always give me some chicken balls for the cat. I hadn’t really realised how much of a help the cat had been to me since Maria left - it was just lovely to have someone to come home to, even if that someone did ignore you for most of the evening and scratch you just because he could. He took one look at Simon and scarpered, and wouldn’t even be tempted back by a chicken ball. Simon’s not exactly a cat person so he didn’t mind.
I put some music on - a Johnny Cash album I’d been wallowing in all week - then put the TV on with the sound turned off, so we had enough distractions as we ate and wouldn’t feel like we had to talk. I made us both coffee without asking, any more alcohol certainly we would have been a bad idea.
The food was great, and it was only when I was clearing my plate that I realised how hungry I’d been - I usually ate half and left half, but not tonight. Simon did less well, pushing it around a bit and in the end leaving half of it. He made a half-hearted attempt to ask me about Maria, but today wasn’t the day - I was feeling calm and relaxed, and just couldn’t be bothered to go over the whole thing again, especially as I knew he never liked her and wouldn’t miss her anyway. I suppose I could have said that to him, but he’d had a bad day and it would have been mean to pick on him.
We chatted about people we knew - he’d seen Gay Dave so was telling me about him, although he seemed less keen to talk about Nick. I like Nick, but never saw him - it was awkward being friends with both of them when they didn’t get along so well, as you had to be careful not to upset one of them. Usually Simon, Nick was far more relaxed, and we’d had a few good nights out , which usually ended up with the pair of us sneaking off and getting stoned while the others got drunk and shouty. To be honest I probably liked Nick more than Simon, which sounds like a dreadful thing to say. Not that I’d ever say it out loud.
Two coffees later and I was ready for bed, although at the same time too wired to sleep. I should never drink coffee, it always gives me a bad head, but I feel like it might sober me although whether that’s true or not is anyone’s guess. I did a bit of obvious yawning, hoping Simon might notice and take the hint, but he didn’t seem to. Eventually the cat got tired of waiting and came back to reclaim the sofa. Even that didn’t seem to shift Simon, so I decided it was time to be blunt.
“OK Simon, it’s getting late, I need to get some sleep if I’m going to be up and about in the morning.”
“Yeah, I guess I do too, it’s later than I thought. Can you call me a cab? Or is there a minicab place round here?”
“The numbers by the phone, help yourself.”
“Thanks for putting up with me, I just didn’t fancy being on my own tonight.”
“That’s ok mate, I’d have felt the same. Must have been a shitty day.”

Not long after that his cab came, and he left but not before giving me and awkward hug. We weren’t really huggers so we were a bit clumsy and slapped each other on the back in a blokey way. It’d been an odd evening but I felt a better person for having been there for him. The cat obviously disagreed as I found him asleep on my pillow surrounded by the shredded remains of a chicken ball.