Ships in the Night

Moving On

"UGH. What am I going to do?" My frustration came bubbling into a explosive and loud exclamation from my mouth. I threw my head back to stare at the sky, dotted with wispy smoke like clouds.

I'd broken the silence around that was the peaceful before lecture morning coffee break where both my friends were basking in the tiniest bit of spring sun before being crammed into a dark and windowless lecture hall again.

Reggie blinked up from his coffee, and raised his brow in silent disapproval, "What? What's wrong?"

I make a face. What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG? The same thing that has been wrong for the past two weeks, that's WHAT Reggie Tyde my Year 9 through 11 high-school biology buddy who just so happened to follow me on to university.

Coincidently.

Sure, we weren't talking about it right now. But it's been on my mind for the past month and a half.

I have nowhere to live and it's becoming more and more evident that I'll have to resort to some kind of hostel communal living situation if I want to finish my degree this year.

And that sounds like possibly the worst kind of situation to me.

1st year at university I joined in the other million and one students who thought that halls would be a fantastic idea; a great place to meet new people, experience living with others, have some kind of coming of age transition.

What greeted me wasn't anything more that people I didn't click with, kitchens that weren't clean and not leaving my cave of flat-pack furniture and stained carpet for anything less than to go to class or use the hob. More specifically the top right-side small hob that no one ever put on. It was the cleanest, and afterwards I'd swill out my pasta water, wash it down quickly with my sponge and take food, bowl, pan and sponge back to my room for safe cleanly keeping.

Easy to say, it wasn't for me, and I'd even debated leaving university after Christmas three months into my degree. Until my boyfriend of two years suggested, 'Hey, why don't I move there and we get a flat together?' So, that's what we did.

Flash forward two years and... Kian and I have broken up. I let him keep the flat and I've been couchsurfing/managing a three hour train commute from my parents house when I can.

Reggie's hair was sticking up in all directions, under his eyes were sunken and dark and I could smell the pub stench etched into his clothes, skin and breath from here.

"You're hungover?" I pointed out.

He rolled his eyes, then regretted it as the bounced off of his pounding head, "Incredibly. Smart observation."

I waved him off, returning to my turmoil, ".. and now. I have to find someone to live with fast or else."

Or else I'm going to fail my classes and move back to my parents where all that awaits me is a shell of a bedroom and school friends that are now no more than strangers in passing.

Josie piped up, tutting, "I've told you you can live with us!"

Ah, Josie and her obsessive boyfriend was an option. But I think I'd question my own moral compass, "I'm sorry but I can't live with a couple that think putting vapour rub on eachothers private areas is a 'joke'" I made air quotations with my fingers. Reggie cracked a smile.

"It was a joke!" Josie's eyes widened as she laughed. Well, cackled. We didn't join in, "It was funny!" She then deadpanned.

"Josie he ended up in HOSPITAL." I swung my whole body towards her. This blonde haired, northern hippie was tapped. One of my best friends, sure.