Hayley’s Story [Working title]

It’s happened again.

Once again I’m laying on my back, looking at the ceiling thinking, ‘is this it?’ No, like really, is this it? I look to my left and there he is, hugging me like a little child, snoring. I look back to the ceiling and sigh. Is this how it will end for me? Every night, looking at the ceiling wondering is this it. I’m sure I didn’t cum, wasn’t even close. Yet there lays my boyfriend, hugging my body tight like a lost puppy, completely tired. I can’t believe I’m back in this same position again. I even have enough time to recollect my whole life.

A few minutes pass and he wakes up.
“Sorry baby, I just slept.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve got work tomorrow, when do you think you’re leaving?”
“Babe! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have slept – I can’t leave without pleasing you.” I chuckled quietly under my breath.
“Don’t worry, just go and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

I just wanted him out as soon as possible. It was bad enough that he slept, but to think he can now please me, when I am sure to be dried up down there like a dessert – was an absolute joke. So even though he was my boyfriend, he had to get out. I was beyond annoyed and I had work tomorrow, which I was not looking forward too. A good fucking would have probably made me walk into work a little more chirper, might have even put a spring to my step! But as that isn’t going to be the case, all I wanted to do was sleep and forget that night ever happened.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was lunch time and I still couldn’t forget the horrors of last night and called the one person who I knew would be a great ear to listen too.
“Hey Veronica, you alright?”
“Yeah I’m good, yourself?”
“Meh! I could be way better.”
“What’s up?”
“V hear this. So Marcus comes to see me yesterday. Of course I’m thinking I’m going to have a nice intimate time with my baby. But when we start to do our “thing”, he lasts for like a minute…two tops!”

Instantly Veronica started laughing. It took a while for her to stop, but once she had, I continued on with my tragic story.
“You think that’s bad, he then hugs me and falls asleep. Bitch is he being for real? Like I know you had a long day at work or whatever, but you do that and then fall asleep, whilst I’m practically still wet?”
“Hold on! He fell asleep??” Out came another burst of giggles. “God Marcus is hilarious.”
“It’s not funny V, it’s annoying. How selfish can you get?”
“Yeah but, is sex really that deep for you Hayley?” I rolled my eyes and took my food out of the microwave.
“It isn’t – well I thought it wasn’t.”
“I didn’t know getting bad dick could ruin your day.”
“It could ruin your whole week V, trust me!” We both chuckled.
“But Hayley, is it that big of a deal? Just talk to him.”
“And say what? ‘Aw babe, I can’t deal with these sessions we have, it’s just not cutting it?’ He’d be offended!”
“Well don’t say it like that you idiot. Be more sympathetic, let him know he hasn’t been satisfying you for a while and maybe he’ll put more effort in.”
“I understand what you’re saying. But to even think he asked me to,” I looked around to see if anyone was listening, and when I realised no one was eavesdropping I carried on. “suck his dick, was like a slap in the face. He’s already had his thrills and then he asked me to do that.”
“Hayley, I am on break this is too much over the phone.” She said through laughter. “Look, come meet me after work, we’ll have dinner a few drinks and then I’ll get you some good old elderly sister advice.”
“Thanks V, because I totally need it right now.”
“Oh get a grip Hayley, it’s just sex.”

Work didn’t last too long, answering calls, dropping calls, sending emails – the usual. Anyway, I got into my SmartCar and headed off to see my sister. One thing I was grateful for in this world was Veronica. The fact that I could count on her whenever and tell her almost (!) anything, was something to treasure. Even though it seemed like I was bitching about Marcus, who else was I meant to speak to regarding this issue? I couldn’t trust no one other than Veronica. I met her at our favourite bar (which happened to be five minutes away from her house, lazy bitch) and grabbed a menu.

“I am starving!”
“Hello to you too.”
“You know we don’t need to say hello.”
“It’d be normal and polite if you did Hayley.”
“Yes V, what have you ordered?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Great, let’s get two Proseccos and dough balls.” Before she could protest, I was already calling the waiter and giving him our orders.
“Prosecco? Damn you act like getting rubbish dick is a crisis.”
“Because it is V. I really didn’t think it was an issue, but I think it might be. Like I love him–”
“And that’s where I stop you. If you love him, then sex is just a thing you can work on.”
“But why has it gone downhill, not improved.”
“Maybe because you moan too much.”
“Phrasing!” We both chuckled, whilst the waiter put our glasses on the table. Just to let you in on this sisterly lingo, when we say ‘phrasing’ it just means that the phrase prior was ambiguous.
“But it’s true Hayley, if you love Marcus that much, then why let poor sex bother you?”
“Because it’s happening all the time. I don’t know V. It’s not just that, yes the sex annoyed the shit out of me, but we’re falling out a lot too. I want to have a future with him, but when his mother is like a monster to me, it just doesn’t help. Add shit sex to the mix and you have a real problem here!”
Veronica chuckled whilst sipping on her drink. “Okay, his mum is out of our control. Your petty arguments you can control. Maybe just sit down with him and try to work out how you can reduce the arguing.”
“V, when we argue, he makes me feel like it was all my fault. Like I was the one who caused it.”

“Are you sure you’re just not reading into things too much, I know how you are?”
“V, if after every petty argument, I feel like I am a issue, that’s saying something about our relationship. Is it making me a better person or worse?”
“Don’t overthink it Hayley, I think shit dick and petty arguments have gotten you a little too observant.”
“But it’s true V, no playing around now.” She put her glass down and watched me talk. “We have these arguments, and then we don’t talk. When we do talk, I feel like shit, because apparently it was all my fault.”
“What makes you think it’s your fault?”
“He says stuff like, ‘I don’t get why you behave like this’ – like my actions have caused yet another disagreement between us. It’s stressful for me.”
“Wow, see how rubbish sex can shine one hell of a light on a relationship.”
“I know. It sucks, and I want to speak to him about it, but I cannot handle another, ‘babe where do you get these thoughts from?’ Making me sound crazy.”
“You know what Hayley, lets have a good time tonight. I know you feel a little down and I know that shit sex didn’t help, but lets not think too much about this. We’ll drink today and then sober up tomorrow and think of how to deal with this issue.”
“Alright.”

So we drank and ate and drank some more. It was nice just being with my sister. She was more like a best friend that I never wanted to lose. We joked around and never shared a cringing moment, like others do. After drinking and finishing another bottle of Prosecco, we knew it was time to get home. Luckily for her she lived just a few minutes away, but for me, I was in no state to drive.
“Stay at mine then!”
“I can’t, I have work tomorrow. I need to change.”
“Call Marcus then, he’ll get you home.”
“Yeah I will. Don’t worry about me V, you get home. I’ll text you once I get home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m bloody sure, now get out of here!”
She chuckled and began walking home. I didn’t want her to get home too late, so it was best she went home before I did. Even though she was my big sister, I was more confident and aggressive than she was. If anyone was planning on jumping me tonight, I was going to put up a fight. Sober or drunk, it wasn’t going to be easy.

I got my phone out ready to call Marcus, when it slipped through my fingers and on to the ground.
“Shit!”
I bent down to pick it up, when I felt someone else’s hand cover my own. Instantly, I jumped back, whilst grabbing my phone tightly. In fright, I stumbled backwards and lost my balance, landing straight onto my back. With my legs tangled up together and my sight  getting more unbalanced, I wasn’t too sure whether being left alone was the smartest idea.
“Are you okay?” A lady’s voice spoke. Closing my eyes tight and then opening them up slowly, my vision returned.
“Yeah I’m fine.”
“Let me help you up.” Before I could shoo her away, she had already managed to pick up me and lift me to my feet. The motion was a little too fast for me to handle, causing me to sway left to right.
“Okay doll, how are you getting home?”
“Marcus, I need to call Marcus to drive me home.”
“Do you want me to call him for you?”
God, was I that much of a mess. Not only could I not stand alone, but I couldn’t even call Marcus without help. I needed to get myself together and fast.
“No I should be okay.” I tried to walk away from her, but without her help, my knees wobbled, causing me to hit the ground once more. She lifted me up again and walked me to my small SmartCar.

“Is this your car doll?”
“How did you know?”
“You’ve been pointing your car keys at this car for a while, so I took a wild guess. Come on let’s get you inside.” She opened up the passenger door and sat me inside, gently reaching over my shoulder to put the seatbelt on. And then went to the drivers seat and got in. Closing and locking the door behind her.
“Oh God, if you’re going to rob me, do it now. I can’t fight back. But don’t kill me.” She chuckled and faced me.
“I’m not going to kill you or rob you, I’m going to drop you home.”
“But you don’t have to, Marcus will do it.”
“Marcus… I assume is Mr.Lame Dick?” My eyes widened at her remark.
“Excuse me?”
“The more you drank, the louder you got. So I kind of heard you speaking about lame sex.” She laughed once more, “It was funny.”
I closed my eyes and inwardly moaned. This cannot be happening. How have I ended up in a situation like this?
“So where do you live doll?”
“18 Dorset Avenue.”
“I’ll get you home in no time.”

And with that I fell asleep.

© All Rights Reserved by Sarah E. Balogun

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Under The Bus Shelter

Each droplet cascaded down his face, the rain failed to stop for two days, the only difference about today was that the clouds had descended to join in on the game the rain had already started. He couldn’t see. The fog had taken his sight and the rain had physically trapped him under a bus shelter. The street lights did next to nothing on creating a sort of path for citizens to follow, the weather had control of everything and everybody. This was recorded to be the worst day in the year, but he knew that the weather wasn’t the reason this day was the worst – it was the earlier events. He looked down at his jacket that was completely soaked, ‘Superdry my ass.’ He’d spent good hard earned money on that coat, which did nothing other than invite the rain and keep him wet, rather than keeping him dry. The irony he thought, Superdry insinuated that anyone wearing it should remain dry, but here he stands, his shirt underneath his jacket soaked, and his face and hair drenched.
He knew he had to keep moving, there was no point staying under the bus shelter, the weather wasn’t going to ease up, according to the weather man, who finally was right about the weather. He looked to his left and to his right, not like he could see anything, but just to make sure where he wanted to walk was clear, as he was planning on sprinting home.

 

She dashed under the bus shelter and took a loud exasperating sigh. She’d jinxed herself, nobody told her to utter those fours forbidden words, ‘What could get worse?’ And here she stood, under the bus shelter, hair soaked and a lousy jacket to protect her from the rain that seemed to continue to pour without anyone’s consent. The fog had her running into multiple people. She’d never had to say ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’ so much in her life, until today. She squinted down the road, hoping for a bus, but knew that’d be a slim chance with how the weather was panning out. Her glasses were literally futile now, as drops of rain had blurred her vision. She sighed again, and looked around, noticed many people under the shelter. A elderly woman stood, what seemed to be huddled to the corner, visibly cold and worried, but remaining quiet. She could barely make out the features of the old woman’s face, as the rain destroyed her sight, so she continued to look on. Another woman, of similar age to her, stood looking angry and frustrated. She continuously checked her watch, and looked to the sky as though a plea for God to reduce the rain, or do something for everyone to make it home, but she guessed her pleas were gone unheard. A man nearest to the edge of the shelter stood posed for a dash. He kept watching the sky, the sidewalk and the rain all at once, as though he was weighing up the odds. She chuckled lightly to herself and shook her head, they’d be no way he was getting anywhere far with the way the sky had cried for the past two days. But he clutched onto his hood and seemed to be pumping himself up. She would have loved to watch him try to make it even across the road without turning back, but her glasses had began fogging up again and she didn’t have any dry wear to try to clean her lenses.

 

She thought about her husband at home by himself and tried to control her irrational thoughts. Harold was old and couldn’t move around as freely as he once did, and she knew by now he’d be panicking about her whereabouts. But she was also old and fragile herself and this bloody rain had forced her to remain under this bus shelter, which was steadily getting more packed by the minute. She’d been there for almost twenty minutes now; seen people come and go. Some would make it as far as Bennie’s sweet shop and return back to the shelter, where others, those she referred to as the bravest of them all, would manage the rain and continue on with their journey. She wished she were like them.
She had a husband who would be worrying himself sick if she didn’t return soon and she didn’t want to imagine him stepping out to look for her. She’d only said she’d be doing some food shopping and wouldn’t be long. And ever since his accident, he’d been glued to the TV, so when she told him she was going he was very adamant that she stays indoors because the weatherman claimed today’s weather was going to be a whole lot worse than yesterday. But she didn’t believe Harold or the weatherman. And now here she stood, clasping her bag and hoping the weather would slow down for just a few minutes so she could get home. The buses seemed to not be in service due to bad weather and cars had slowly stopped driving passed her, which only meant the roads were too dangerous for vehicles to be running. She sighed again and looked at the sky, praying Harold had patience and would wait for her at home.

 

That’s it, this is definitely the worst birthday ever.’ She thought to herself after finding a spot under the bus shelter. Her hair appointment was cancelled the day before, so the money she’d brought on her hair (that she’d bragged about for weeks) was wasted, as it wasn’t going to be used for her birthday. The restaurant she called for her boyfriend and herself had somehow lost her reservation number and to make matters worse she was trapped in the rain she fought so hard to dodge. She planned that she’d leave her house extra early to get some food supplies, to make this day somewhat worth celebrating. But some mother at the store had found an issue with every item she brought; making her fifteen-minute shop, turn into a thirty-minute moan.
She looked down at her waterproof Uggs and screamed in her head. They said waterproof, but this rain was on a whole other scale, she wasn’t sure her Ugg boots could withstand this rain, and by the feel of the little tiny wet drops of water tickling her toes, she knew they were damaged. She checked her phone, realising her phone had low battery and stuffed it back in her pocket.
Was this rain trying to symbolise how her new year was going to turn out? Because nothing had gone according to plan, if anything her life seemed to fall apart after hitting the age of twenty-five. She huddled deeper into the bus shelter, feeling stray rain droplets caress her face. As she moved back, a man ran passed her crunching her foot and further damaging her boots. She looked down in horror to find a black, wet footprint across the front of her beige boots and felt the urge to scream. She looked up to see if she could catch the man, but he was gone. She was about to stare at her boots again, feeling the need to cry her day away, when an old lady caught her eye and gave her an unapologetic smile. ‘Today couldn’t get any worse.’

 

He couldn’t contain his audible laugh. Everyone had given him funny looks earlier on in the day, questioning his attire. Looking at his wellington boots and umbrella and chuckling to themselves, as he seemed to look overdressed for the rain that was only spitting at that time. But look who prevailed! Yes it was raining and heavily too, but he was prepared and now watching a man sprint from the bus shelter to his next destination and observing the many people camping under the bus shelter, had him laughing. Nothing was going to stop him, not this rain and definitely not the judgmental stares he was receiving as he walked passed everyone.
He wanted to shout, ‘you should have been more prepared!’ but he wasn’t that much of a dick. So he watched them all bunch together like an awkward extended family meeting and laughed some more. Today hadn’t been the best day for him. Money was tight and the rent was coming round fast again. He tried to get a second job – but with his attire he hadn’t managed to impress anyone enough for a handshake and hopeful words. But the sight he was seeing had definitely brightened up his day.
A woman stood looking at her ruined boots, another kept constantly wiping her glasses, a man kept searching for a bus that was never coming and an elderly lady watched the sky. And there he stood, opposite them as dry as he could possibly be, under a sturdy umbrella that wouldn’t flip inside out against a strong passing of the wind, in a raincoat that didn’t keep him warm, but did keep him dry and in boots that fought hard against the rain. He shook his head and continued with his journey home. ‘Should have come more prepared.’ He thought.

 

© All Rights Reserved by Sarah E. Balogun