I Want To Date My English Teacher

A Verbal Warning

He wags his tail harder because I’ve started stroking his head and I giggle, but then I feel the burn in my throat and I stop. The nausea is back again. My head is throbbing. My throat is burning. Alex is upstairs, working in his office.

He wouldn’t know. Not if I just had a small one.

He wouldn’t know.

I sigh again, and Sparky wanders away to chew on his bone, previously discarded on the floor. I look back at the corkboard, then the sticky notes, and then at the carpet. I realise I’m being ridiculous and making far too big a deal out of this.

Then suddenly, it comes to me that a productive way to start would be to put the post-it notes in chronological order of events.

Smiling at my bright idea, I place the post-it notes in order, referring to the script frequently to make sure I’m correct. Soon I’m done and I stop to admire my work. I check the clock. Only ten minutes has passed.

I groan out loud and fall backwards to the floor, covering my face with my hands.

I could just have a little one, really quickly. He wouldn’t notice. He wouldn’t know. The burn in my throat returns and I bite my lip, hoping to make it stop. I sit up and take a sip of the water that I’d brought in with me, but it doesn’t help.

The burn is still there.

I can’t concentrate. I look back up at the cork board and it’s just spinning, all the neon notes becoming a blinding kaleidoscope that attacks my mind. I stand to my feet and stumble around the living room, wrapping my trembling arms around myself.

Just a small one, he wouldn’t know, he’d never know. It’d be my little secret. I stumble out of the living room, falling into the kitchen. I close the door behind me and hear Sparky whine slightly at being shut out, but he quietens back down.

My eyes are burning, and I look around the kitchen for something to stop the pain in my body. My hands are trembling and I need something. I need something. I need it.

I’ve been good.

I haven’t had a drink in three days. I’ve done what Alex wanted me to, haven’t I?

I can have a drink now if I want to.

My hand reaches out towards the cupboard under the kitchen sink and the fragile cupboard door swings open. I crouch down, almost losing my balance because of the way my head spins and I clutch the work surface for stability.

There’s a small bottle of red wine.

If I just had a tiny sip, something just to ease the burn, he wouldn’t know. Alex wouldn’t know what I’d done. He’s upstairs.

My hand shakes as it reaches out towards the bottle. I sit on the floor and unscrew the lid, and slowly I bring the bottle up to my lips.