A new series, following the life of Joe, a young man in London, whose ex has just left him. If only he knew what would happen when there is a knock at his door.
*****
'Take it. I don't care.'
'You bought it for me. So d'you want it?'
'I said no.' Joe pushed away with trembling palms on the doorframe of his bedroom. Leaving "that man" do to what he wanted.
Joe made his way to the small kitchen-come-dining area of his flat. Kyle always called it an apartment, he hated it. He hated the way that Kyle seemed to need to inject Americanisms into every possibly opportunity. Kyle was from Surrey? Why did he think he needed to do such things? Joe didn't much care to answer those sorts of questions anymore.
"Fuck him." He thought, as he removed a large bottle of vodka from the shelf above the sink.
He sat down at the circular dining table - with his bottle of vodka and his pint glass - and begun to pore.
}{
Kyle was gone by four in the evening. He had taken his suitcases and black sacks of clothing, belongings and the like.
He didn't say goodbye to Joe.
This should have pissed him off, he should have been midway through an argument (crying and screaming at his ex), but he wasn't. He was still sat in his kitchen, making his way through the challenge of the vodka bottle. It wasn't a massive bottle, though big enough to leave you with a hangover for a day or two if you polished it off yourself. This was the task that Joe had set himself.
}{
Bed called for Joe at eleven in the evening. Taking the bottle (and leaving the glass at the table) Joe staggered with drunken slur along the hallway to his bedroom.
It seemed hollow.
Joe had never really kept many things. He had his single-door wardrobe and his chest-of-draws where all his clothing was kept. In the other corner was his bookcase (with very few books, and fewer DVDs), and beside his bed was a small cabinet with three draws; all with the objects that had become common place in the intimate side of his and Kyle's relationship.
Joe slammed the bottle of vodka on the cabinet, and removed his t-shirt with great difficulty. The jeans were an even greater task, one that he did not manage to complete. He fell to the bed, with his jeans around his ankles, and slept.
}{
'Joe?'
"There can't be anyone there?" He somehow thought through the headache that had awoken him.
'Joe? You there?'
"Fuck... Sake..." He thought, lifting his head away from his duvet. He wiped away the dribble and staggered off the bed. One stood he half-heartedly pulled up his jeans, and left the room to answer the door.
'Don't you ever answer your phone?' Olivia barged passed him as Joe opened the door. Olivia was his best friend, and he didn't want to see her.
'Hello, Oli, come right in...' Joe sighed, sarcastically.
He followed her to the kitchen area, were she had sat herself at the table.
'Right, come on, talk to me.' She commanded, removing her coat and throwing it upon the table.
'Do you want a coffee?' Joe asked, begrudgingly.
'You sit down, babe, I'll make it.' She stood from her seat and began the task of coffee that seemed too much of a challenge for Joe at that moment. 'You look awful, by the way, babe. What did you do to yourself last night?'
'I drank.'
'You drank?'
'Yes.'
'Drank what?'
'Vodka. Lots of vodka.'
'Fucking hell, Joe, d'you not remember Christmas 2012?'
'No?'
'Exactly! You'd just broke up with, oh, what was his name? The tall one with the lovely butt?'
'Jonah?'
'That's the one! We went out Christmas night, and then you didn't turn up for three days. I found you in a hotel in London, with three bottles of vodka, two whiskeys and a bin full of used comdoms. I don't want you back there!'
Olivia turned to the table and placed the two coffees in front of them both.
Joe took his and had a large sip. It was too hot but he needed it. 'That won't happen this time, Oli. Kyle was a prick, and I just needed one night of getting shit-faced and forgetting him.'
'And have you forgotten him?'
Joe lowered his head. 'No.'
