The moment of change.

Continuing the story of Robbie and Jenna. A brief insight into their past.

I’m heading down to the bar I usually meet her in. I’m 19 and I’m skiving from my afternoon classes in college again.  Not as early as usual, she’s usually in there from opening at 11am and constantly bugging me to come and meet her.  Not today, she has met some guy, and asked me to keep her company before she meets him later on.  Perfect just what I want to see today her all over some d****e who’s not good enough for her. 

It’s 3pm and it’s getting busier in Bar Cava.  I get myself a cider and black, like usual and this time a shot of tequila to stop me from losing my s**t.  I head upstairs and find her sitting in our usual spot on one of the two broken and wrecked black leather sofas. 

She looks really cute.  She’s made an effort for this guy.  She doesn’t look over done, wearing skinny black jeans, a David Bowie t-shirt and a green cardigan.  I can tell she’s made an effort by her shoes.  She’s got these high heels on that are kind of leopard print.  On anyone else this outfit would look a bit weird, but she pulls off quirky without looking over done.  Her hair is down like it usually is, long and blonde, slightly messy with that cow’s lick flicking her hair across her forehead in a kind of ‘I don’t care’ bouncy style she always has. 

She’s 18 here and she looks well.  This is the smallest she has ever been.  Size 8, but the future me knows she’s been through a tough time in the past few months, hence spending every waking hour in this hell hole of a bar, escaping what she’s going through and hairdressing.  She’s about the gain some serious weight in the coming years that she finds impossible to lose until her divorce. 

She looks up at me as I turn from the stairs and sit on the equally messed up sofa across from her. She smiles and says hi.  ‘how long have you been in here?’ I ask her.

‘about an hour’ she replies. 

‘no hairdressing?’ I ask.

‘nope, not for me anyway’ she smiles.  ‘I saw all the girls going for lunch before, well-missed everything by now, no classes for you?’

‘Did my morning but skiving the last one.  Boring’ I tell her.  It’s not boring really, I just wanted to see her before she disappears with wanker number 412.  ‘So what time you meeting . . . .?’ I finish.

‘Andrew.  I met him before, had lunch in that café . . . soul café? He’s ok.  Had some uni lecture to go to.  He’s coming here when he’s done.  Thanks for waiting with me.’

A sharp pain stabs at my gut but I ignore it.  I smile at her ‘No problem, not got anything better to do.’

Besides college.  I don’t want to go home anyway.  Hate being at home these days with my mum’s loser boyfriend hanging about the place.  I have never told her this and won’t tell her for years to come.  I definitely don’t tell her I’d rather be here with her all night. 

We drink and chat and just be for a few hours.  A couple of people pass through, sitting on the opposite side of the dark dank room but don’t bother us.  We laugh and get steadily more drunk.  It’s almost 6pm before the guy, Andrew, turns too.  He looks like a wet blanket if I ever saw one.  Not great looking, trying a bit too hard, similar height to me.  Unremarkable. 

Jenna changes instantly.  She introduces us and then all her attention is taken by him and I’m on the sofa watching my nightmare play out.  Watching her flirt with him, flick her hair about.  He obviously can’t believe his luck.  She’s way more than this dick could have hoped for easily.  Looks like the kind of guy that’s too scared to f**k properly.  Probably a virgin in my opinion. 

I busy myself in my phone, occasionally throwing her looks and trying to hide my jealousy.  Ever since I’ve known her she’s never once acted with me like this and it kills me.  I decide then and there I’m going to try and not care.  Detach my feelings from her from myself. 

I stay about half an hour before I can’t take any more and make my excuses.  She doesn’t look sorry I’m leaving, but she does look at me apologetically.  I smile at her, walk down the stairs and out into the cold February evening and head home, determined I’m not going to feel this sadness again.