A Life Less Average

eighteen

poppy

"Meet me outside the cafe. By the graffiti wall. Half an hour." 

It was Sunday morning. I had crept quietly into the house and up the two flights of stairs without being caught. The smell of fire still lingered on my clothing and I breathed it in before throwing the dirty t-shirt into the pile of laundry in the corner of my room. 

Lewis and I had had sex and it had been okay. It wasn't bad, but I think we both accepted that we had been tired and drunk and the walk home had diluted our hormones from a primal urge to a shoulder-shrugging 'why not'. 

Physically, he had been everything I had expected. His body was muscly and toned. His six pack had been star of the show until we had taken off the last of our clothes. 

I had never felt self conscious around a guy before, but something about standing in Lewis's bedroom, with the soft glow of his bedside table casting shadows over my body and highlighting every lump, bump and scar, something had changed in me. I had felt the urge to cover myself. Turn the lights off or hide beneath his duvet. 

But Lewis held my hands and told me I was beautiful. 

That was something I hadn't experienced before. 

With the other guys, it had been purely physical. Older guys who had moved out, or lived in flat-shares with their mates. Guys who weren't looking for anything serious, but wanted to take advantage of their newfound freedom and bring a girl home. 

I caught my reflection before I hopped in the shower, and was startled by the unbrushed mess of blue on top of my head. My makeup was smudged and my lips were red raw. But the girl looking back at me looked happy. 

I quickly scrubbed the remains of last night off my body and changed into an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, threw on a pair of sunglasses, tied my hair up on the top of my head, and headed down the stairs. 

In the time I had been upstairs, I hadn't heard my mum make her way into the kitchen. She watched me force my feet into a pair of trainers, before stopping me. 

"This isn't a hotel," she snapped. "You can't just come and go as you please. You need to start paying your way." 

I rolled the sleeves of my sweatshirt up and looked at her. She was serious.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded. 

"You're going to start paying board," she said. 

"Fine," I said. 

She filled a mug with boiling water, poured in a drop of milk and stirred her coffee slowly.

I didn't say bye. I didn't have to. There was enough heaviness in her silence for me to take the hint. I hadn't crept in the house unnoticed like I had thought. She had probably been waiting up for me all night, hence the coffee. 

I tried to take myself back to last night, but I couldn't shake her face out of my head. She had managed to take all of the excitement out of my weekend, and by the time my bus pulled into town, I wasn't even excited to tell Faye. 

I spotted her leaning against the graffiti wall. The wall was the side of a building that had been relentlessly sprayed over and over with various graffitis. The council had tried to paint the wall white, removing all the damage, but the artists had just returned, delighted by the blank canvas. At some point, the council stopped trying and the wall had become a staple in the town centre. 

People came from all over the city to take photographs in front of the wall. It made for the perfect selfie backdrop as the graffiti wasn't crude or explicit. In fact, it was pretty damn beautiful. 

"What are you doing?" I asked as I approached Faye. 

A cigarette was hanging from her lips, a thin string of smoke curling form its tip. 

"What?" 

"You don't smoke," I said, stating the obvious. 

"I know. But they were in Rob's pocket," she said. The coat she was wearing was three sizes too big for her small body, but it somehow suited her. "Want one?"

I shrugged. "Why the hell not."

I leant beside her as she slipped a Richmond Green out of the packet and lit it for me. 

"So what's up?" she asked. "How was the bonfire? Did you make lots of awesome friends? Dance to awesome music?" 

I told her about that bitch Rebecca sizing me up, and about going back to Lewis's. 

"Does she have a past with him?" she asked, finishing her cigarette and stubbing the burning butt out with the tip of her boot. 

"I don't know. I don't think so." I hadn't asked Lewis about her. After she had walked away from us, she had completely left my thoughts. 

"What a bitch." 

I agreed. I tossed my half-smoked menthol on the floor and we started down the street towards the cafe. 

For a cold November morning, the streets were surprisingly busy. Inside the cafe, we struggled to find a seat, until we settled on one by the kitchen. It wasn't the quietest part of the cafe, and every time the door opened, we were hit with a wave of deliciousness. But it would do. 

The only waitress in the place took our orders, and hurried off into the back before reappearing to serve another table. I sucked down half of my iced Americano, trying to replace the taste of smoke with the taste of coffee. 

"Oh, and the best part about this weekend," I said, remembering the look on my mum's face as I reached for the front door. "My mum wants me to get a job." 

Faye rolled her eyes. "Of course she does." 

I shrugged. "Just when I think I'm actually about to start enjoying life, bam! She's stood around the corner with a giant ass stick ready to smash me back into place." 

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Faye said. "If you have a job you don't have to spend as much time at home." 

"That's true." I hadn't thought of it like that. Sure, it had hit me that my mum wanted me out of the house with the intention of me bringing back some form of payment for me living under her roof, but it hadn't occurred to me that I wouldn't be at home. That I wouldn't be under her scrutiny while I was at work. 

"Oh, and would you look at that," Faye said. I followed her gaze to a sheet of paper stuck beneath the counter. 

Help Wanted.