Flashes

A Turn of Events

The first time I met his mum it was unexpected.

The trains had been cancelled back from college so a friend had given us both a lift, me sitting between him and another mate in the back. Suddenly he had started to sweat, his normally tan face pale and clammy. I could see the perspiration dribbling from his forehead. He started mumbling incoherently: something about his hands? And his feet? Apparently they were tingling violently to the point of visibly shaking, then turned numb. He muttered nonsense, and scrambled with his seatbelt, which I proceeded to undo. He hung his head out of the window (luckily we were on quiet roads so there was no need to worry about decapitation). The whole event was rather terrifying, and I was convinced he was having a heart attack or a stroke. I managed to get his phones passcode off him and called his mum, but to no avail.

He slowly got back to normal, and wanted dropping off at home. I refused to let him as no adults would be there, only his younger sister, and I wanted to make sure he would be ok.

I took him back to mine and fed him some mints and popcorn incase it was his blood sugar and he said he felt completely rejuvenated.

The wifi was down -i swear it always acts up- so we couldn't watch anything on Netflix as I normally did with friends. Then something damned near miraculous happened: we talked. We talked and found the conversation flowed smoothly, smoother than any I'd had in months. There were no awkward silences or pauses, no having to rack my brain for a subject of interest. We just talked.

Of course it was too good to last, as his mother finally called him back and said shes meet him by a supermarket less than 2 minutes walk from my house. Again I refused to let him go alone, insisting i would walk him right up to his mother least he should have another 'fit'.

And this is how she met me, clinging to his arm like he would fall down at any time, with my purple hair and purple lipstick fitting with the aesthetic shown through my black chained jeans, leather jacket and spiky silver belt.

Not exactly a good impression to make on a very Spanish, very Catholic mother.