Free The Art of Keeping Faith by Anna Bloom

minutes of blowing snot bubbles.
    “What?”
    “Every time he has to go away?”
    “I think it already is, Lilah, I mean, he has been gone a whole ten minutes and you haven’t consumed any alcohol.”
    We both giggle before lapsing into silence and I finally fall asleep to the sound of Taylor Swift singing, “Stay Beautiful.” Damn it. She’s back.
    I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing.
    Ben! I instantly think.
    Baz. Not quite the same thing.
    “Are you coming in?”
    “Oh, shit. Sorry. Yes, can I bring the cat?”
    “Cat? Fucking hell, Lilah, it’s a music shop not a bloody vet.”
    “Oh stop moaning, we will be there in an hour. Hide the tiddly winks in case he tries to eat them.”
    “I give up,” I hear him grumbling as he puts down the phone.
    I think he should be grateful that at least I won’t be drinking all his Budweiser due to my new parenting role.
    20th October
    I may have drunk a few too many of Baz’s Bud’s. I have a blinding headache and no clue where the cat is. The headache is being made dramatically worse by the reappearance of Taylor Swift who is belting out “Come Back … Be Here,” very loudly.
    I came home from work to a voicemail from Ben on the landline. It was not a romantic “I miss you,” voicemail it went like this:
    “Lilah. Is the cat still alive? It worries me you should be home from work but you are not answering the phone. Don’t leave the cat alone for too long and don’t let him out yet, he is too young. There is cat food under the sink. He needs feeding three times a day. I will call tomorrow to check on you guys. Speak soon. Bye. Oh, I love you.”
    Charming.
    I was the afterthought at the end of that message.
    Now where is that bloody cat?
    21st October
    Oh my God, the cat has got to go.
    I have had two hours sleep. I am pretty sure that looking after a kitten is worse than having a baby. Kit the Demon Cat has sat on my chest all night. Every time I dared dose off to sleep he patted my cheek with his paw. When that failed to keep me awake he clawed back the duvet and climbed into the bed with me.
    I gave in at three and just put my arm around him. He then went to sleep but I was awake because I was petrified I was going to suffocate him.
    I texted Ben at four this morning. We are not supposed to be texting each other due to an unfortunate incident in July where we texted merrily away and it cost two hundred quid.
    Me: Ben, next time you can take the kitten with you.
    Ben’s reply came through five minutes later.
    Ben: Don’t be so dramatic, Lilah. It’s a kitten, how hard can it be?
    This was followed by another one two minutes later.
    Ben: Why on earth are you awake at 4.30? xxx
    I did not bother typing a response I just took a photo of Kit the Demon Cat sound asleep spread across my pillow.
    Ben: Ah I see. Miss you, I hope you miss me xx
    Me: Not right now no.
    Ben: Really … ?
    Me: Maybe a little bit …
    Ben: Well so long as it is only a little bit …
    Me: Go away this has probably cost a hundred quid!
    Ben: Conversation with Lilah = Priceless …
    Sarcastic shit.
    Right, I had better get up for Uni. At least I will be able to have a nice snooze at my desk without a furry paw patting me on the face.
    22nd October
    I am slouching down the corridor of the history building after an afternoon of death with Pilchard when I hear a voice call “Delilah.” There are no students about, they have all dashed to freedom.
    “Hi, Professor Johnson,” I say turning around meekly.
    I genuinely like this guy and I know his disappointment in my exceptionally poor start to the term will be immense. Let’s be honest I have not been here. I’ve had man-flu and I have been trailing my hot, rock-god boyfriend around on tour. Not the best way to get a First or even a Third for that matter.
    “Ben’s gone again, then?” he asks getting straight to the point as he ushers me into his over-filled office crammed with books and a crazy, messy desk.
    “Yeah, it’s cool