cherry

September 2012

I sat across from Andrew, tears in both of our eyes, his hand in mine. “I think it's just best for the both of us.” Nodding, I sniffled. The breakup was inevitable. Our relationship had been teetering on the edge of destruction for a while now and soon enough something was going to come crashing down. “And I mean it’s not like we’re suddenly going to start hating each other, you know.”

“I’m not having you forget about me when you’re all rich and famous, living it big style in America or whatever.” My breath hitched as I tried my hardest not to burst into tears once again.

Andrew let out a teary laugh, holding his little finger up in the gesture of a pinky promise. “How could I ever forget you, Bea?”

I took his pinky in mine and shook it. “I love you Andy.”

“I love you too, honey.”

《°•☆•°》

February 2015

Saturday

“Bea, our bus is gonna leave in like 5 minutes, hurry up!” my roommate Helena shouted at me from the front door of our apartment as I tugged on my Doc Martens, hopping as I tried to tie my laces.

I grabbed my bag, flinging the patchwork satchel over my shoulder. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Helena snorted. “That’s what she said.” I glared at her through my too long fringe. God, I have to cut this again, I thought before standing up and following her through the door.

It was a crisp autumnal morning in Dublin, the pavements wet from last night's rain, causing leaves to stick to my worn out boots as we walked towards the bus that would take us to the city centre. The sky was grey with clouds, threatening another bout of drizzle while the wind whistled down the small street our flat was on. I hugged my jacket around my shoulders a bit tighter as we turned the corner onto the main road, passing the diner we frequented.

“So,” Helena started, “I’m thinking we'll go get lunch first because by the time we’re out of Waterstones it’ll be definitely at least 2.” I nodded in agreement. “Then Waterstones, then I need to pop into Penney’s to get some bits and pieces, then the record shop and THEN go to the shopping centre.”

“Sound’s good to me.” I responded, making a mental note of the order of which we’d visit each shop.

Ever since we’d met each other during freshers week in the university library, me and Helena had got on like a house on fire, bonding over our love of books, music and that we were both foreign students from two of the most hated countries in the world, me being English and Helena being French. All we were missing was an American to complete the unholy trinity. We arrived at the bus stop just as the bus pulled in, stepping on and flashing our bus passes to the driver before climbing up the steps and taking our usual position in the front right seats of the bus.

Once we reached the city centre, we climbed off our transport into the newly soaked streets of Dublin, running quickly into the cafe we’d previously decided on.

I shook out my pink hair, attempting to prevent the inevitable frizz that the dampness of the rain caused and praying none of my hair dye had run. The cafe was cosy, with armchairs and low tables dotted around the space and a counter in the centre of the room selling hot drinks and baked goods. I regarded the menu before deciding on a tea and a brie and bacon baguette which I promptly ordered and paid for before making my way over to a spare table by the window, looking out onto one of Dublin’s rainy streets, Helena in tow. I took a few sips of my tea, warming myself up, and before long our sandwiches arrived.

“Jesus, that Hozier dude is everywhere nowadays.” I grinned as the unmistakable opening lyrics of Take Me To Church began playing over the cafe’s sound system. “Came out two bloody years ago” I murmured under my breath. I thought of what Andrew would be doing right now. Probably asleep on a plane routed to god knows where for his next sell out show. His success was never a surprise to me- I’d always known his fame was inevitable ever since I’d heard his voice for the first time across a dingy Dublin bar. And now his songs were a household name, with fangirls all over him.

“To be honest, it is quite a big flex that you’ve had sex with him. For all you know, this song could be about you.” Helena said, through a mouthful of panini.

I shoved the final part of my sandwich into my mouth before adding “Yeah, but it's not really a flex that he also broke up with me.”

“To be honest, it was a long time coming.” She shrugged, nibbling on the end of a chip. I scowled at her. “At least you had your time with him. He’ll probably have forgotten about you with all his fame”

“He pinky promised me he never would so I highly doubt that babes.”

We continued giggling and chatting throughout the meal and before long the sky had cleared up and we were on our way to our idea of heaven- the giant Waterstones in the town centre. Three glorious hours were spent in the 4 storeys of books and after we came out our bags had become significantly heavier, and our wallets significantly lighter which was an insight to how the rest of our day would be going. I bought some fluffy socks and a new denim skirt from Penney’s along with the vinyl of Dummy by Portishead which I’d been meaning to buy for a while now.

Returning to the flat with our arms laid down with full bags felt like a reward. As we flopped down onto the sofa in our cosy living room, I wriggled my phone out of my jeans pocket, realising I hadn’t checked it in over 5 hours. When I opened the screen, I scrolled through the usual notifications: “@helena.toussant mentioned you in a story”, “Hardzello Worshippers: New Chat from barbie <3”, KitKat: how do i do the pasta?”. As I read through them, I noticed a new one pop through that made my heart flutter. I internally punched myself before opening the message.

Missed Call from: Sugar Tits😍

Andrew never had the time to call me now with all the touring which made me nervous as to why he suddenly found new time in his busy schedule. I didn’t want to call him back, just in case he was busy so instead I dropped him a text, telling him I was free and that he could call me any time.

“What you grinning at?” Helena snooped, reading my face as I took my phone off silent so that if he decided to call me again I’d hear it.

I carefully straightened my features out into that of nonchalance. “Nothing…” I pursed my lips together as my heart fluttered. It was hard to not still have a crush on him, even after all this time. He’d been so sweet and awkward when we’d first got together and I couldn’t deny, seeing him all confident and occasionally feral on stage made him a whole new level of hot.

“Shut up… it's not Andrew is it!?” She shrieked.

I beamed from ear to ear, my face quickly heating up with that all familiar blush I’d come to associate with him.

“Shut up awwh,” Helena cooed from beside me as I hid my face in a pillow on our sofa. “Beatrice and Andrew sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-”

I hit her over the head with the pillow. “You’re just jealous because none of your exes are world famous rock stars that find time in their day to call you.”

Helena mocked offence. “You’re a horrible person.”

“I know.” I said sweetly, batting my eyelashes. “Dude he’s so fit.” I groaned, leaning back into the sofa, grinning like a teenage girl.

“Yup” she said, popping the P, “Already established that like 5 years ago when you first met.”

“AND he's almost a whole foot taller than me. Fucking huge.” I trailed off, my mind wandering. “You know what else is huge…”

I was cut off by the loud ringtone of my phone, making me jump out of my skin. Andrew’s contact popped up along with the god awful profile picture I’d assigned him back in 2011 of him, drunk as anything, wearing nothing but his boxers and one of my bras. I answered the call, shushing Helena and putting the phone up to my ear.

“Hello, my love.” said Andrew’s familiar Irish lilt over the phone. Our relationship may have ended, but his pet names never did. One look over to Helena made me see she wanted me to put the phone on speaker so she could eavesdrop- I begrudgingly did so.

“Heya Andy. How’s touring?” I asked.

I heard a sigh from the other end of the phone. “I’m so fucking tired. Had one day off yesterday and spent the whole time asleep.”

“I could never…” I shook my head chuckling, knowing how hard it was for me to get out of bed before 9am each morning. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Andrew asked, the sleeplessness now evident in his voice.

“Well you don’t usually have time for a call so either you want to speak to me about something important, or you dearly miss the sound of my voice.”

“Oh yeah.. about that.” He cleared his throat, his voice suddenly nervous. The hopeless romantic in me begged for him to confess his love for me but the rationality of my mind immediately squashed it down. “Well, so you know how we wrote that song when we were together?”

“Uh yeah…” I answered. We’d written and recorded In A Week in Andrew’s parent’s attic way back in when I was 20 and he was 21 as a bit of fun, but when Andrew had got signed two years later, the record company had pleaded for a duet so instead of writing a new one, he put our song forward. I was credited on the record and got half the royalties which had sparked some debate on Twitter about who this elusive Beatrice Mackinnon was and why she had no other music released and no sign of her on social media. The truth was, Beatrice Mackinnon was the least elusive person, perpetually loud and working in a coffee shop to pay off her student loan.

“Well, my tour manager…” He trailed off. “I have no idea how to phrase this or say it at all and, ehm, you have no pressure on you to say yes but I was just wondering…” God, how I adored his nervous stuttering. “Basically, I have a set at Coachella in April and my tour manager wants me to add In A Week to the setlist and that I had to find someone to sing it with and I was wondering if you’d possibly like to perform it with me… at Coachella.”

notes: AH!! so there it is. I hope you enjoyed and please comment to lmk what you thought

tags: @shortqueershakespeare @effervescent-fool @deprivedmusicaljunkie @cervidaewasteland @unreal-unearthed @man-i-love-folklore @lifemod17

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