Free The Art of Keeping Faith by Anna Bloom Page B

with my pussy.”
    Ben who has just taken a deep drag of his cigarette on the other end of the line proceeds to have a full scale coughing fit.
    I take a long drag of my own cigarette while I wait for him to finish, wafting the smoke away from Crazy Kit who is curled up on my lap. It’s the quietest he has been since I got home from Uni and poured my cereal.
    I am sitting in the hallway my back against one wall and my feet against the other. Black cat wedged on my lap. I try to visualise Ben sitting in his hotel room, phone hooked under his ear.
    “What you wearing?” I ask.
    “Navy T-shirt and my sweats.”
    Damn it. That’s my favourite outfit. There is a low stab in my stomach to confirm this.
    “What you wearing?” he asks.
    “Nothing.”
    “In the hallway?”
    “Yep.”
    “I like it.”
    I hear him blow out another lungful of smoke. We both know we need to give up but knowing it and doing it are two completely different things. I did give up in January for five whole minutes.
    “So who was your hot date with? I feel I should be jealous.”
    “And you’re not?”
    “I am a little, I hope you didn’t let him sit at my desk and play footsie with you.”
    “No chance, I squeezed him into my booth instead.”
    “Well, now I am definitely jealous.”
    I can hear the smile in his voice and I can visualise it playing on his lips. It makes the stab of longing in my stomach even more intense. “It was Professor Johnson, he is determined to make a decent student out of me so he decided to give me a one-on-one lecture.”
    “Well so long as that was all he was trying to give you!”
    “Oh, my God, that’s disgusting. He is really old.”
    Ben chuckles across the long distance.
    “So what was the one-on-one for?”
    “I think he is attempting to save me from the wrath of Pratty Pilchard and to keep me off the vodka.”
    “Well then, he has my complete respect.”
    “For the record, Chambers, I have not touched a drop of the stuff since you left. Contrary to popular belief I do not rely solely on high-proof alcohol to maintain my mental stability.”
    “Budweiser?”
    I think for a moment. Baz! What a shit .
    “When did you speak to Baz?”
    “Haha, the other day.” Ben is smirking, I know it.
    “Are you checking up on me?”
    “No, Miss Paranoia. We need new kit and I have refused to use anything that does not come from your shop.”
    Silence.
    “Thank you,” I say eventually around a massive lump that has formed in my throat.
    “You’re welcome.”
    Silence.
    “I miss you,” I say.
    “I miss you, too.”
    “So where are you?”
    “Truthfully?”
    “Well, yes?”
    Please don’t be at Mihraandah’s.
    “I have absolutely no idea where we are, all I know is that we are playing a gig in a couple of hours.”
    Just then I hear a lot of noise from Ben’s end of the phone.
    “Shit, it’s the others,” he grumbles.
    “It’s cool. Go.” I say the words but don’t mean them. I would sit on the cold hallway floor all-night just to hear his voice.
    “Okay. I love you.”
    “I love you, too,” I tell him, but I know his attention has gone and I can hear the others shouting and moaning that he is not dressed yet.
    “Bye,” he whispers.
    “Bye,” I whisper back before hanging up the phone and picking myself, and the cat, up off the floor.
    My aim is to make it back to my room without waking him. That way I might manage a night’s sleep without him attacking me every half an hour.
    No such luck!
    24th October
    4.00 p.m.
    I am stuck in the library. It is pissing rain. Even the autumn leaves have lost their golden glow as they flutter from trees to be mushed to mulch under someone’s foot.
    I want to go home, but Deathtrap Cooper is parked streets away. I couldn’t face getting soaked to my underwear trying to reach it so I came to the library instead.
    5.15 p.m.
    Meredith: Where the fuck are you? I am concerned you may be in a ditch somewhere?
    Me: Sod off. I am in the library. You know,