Chapter 2 - Welcome to my Life

Chapter 2

Nicky’s POV

Walking along the fully crowded streets I tried to make sense of the last 24 hours. It was a cold November day and even though the breakfast had helped and the clothes I wore were dry, I felt a block of ice somewhere deep inside of me. I could have died out there last night. Maybe it was a wakeup-call for me. Gazing along the street I wanted to wave for a cab but lowered my hand immediately. Right. No wallet, no money, no cab. Sighing I pulled the hood of the huge pullover over my head.

What exactly had happened to me last night? It had been an ordinary night out, the usual since Kim had left me and even took my kids away from me. A drunken night out and to be honest I didn’t remember much of it.

While walking, some scenes occurred on my mind. It felt like a picture in picture function of a TV with wrong settings and I knew that the order wasn’t accurate but anyway, those little spots of my night were enough to let a rush of shame run through me. Damn! I had been shot, completely rat-arsed and boozed enough to even have some pills…. That chick… she had given them to me. A small brunette with weird greenish eyes, lenses most probably. We had made out and… Hell, I didn’t even remember it properly!

“Fuck!” rubbing my eyes, I walked a little faster as if I could by that leave everything behind. Booze, drugs, meaningless sex, being robbed and picked up from the streets, almost rescued.

Her name came to my mind. Linnea. Her smile. Her affection and well, at least in my case, her altruism and kindness. Damn, that Jon guy was a lucky bastard with her and the sweet little boy.

My whole way home – a long one – felt like a walk of shame, self-pity and self-reproach. And when I finally got to the building I had lived in for the last six months without my family, I also realised I didn’t have my keys. Torn between yelling, throwing up and by now also crying, I rang for my neighbours to open the door and help me out with their phone. After the first four rejections and some yelling through the intercom system of the house – obviously my neighbours didn’t know me – I found a man two floors below my apartment that agreed to let me in and also allowed me to use his phone to call a locksmith. Finally I was on my way out of misery.

Greg Brown, the first neighbour I got to know, sympathetically patted my back when I told him half the truth (sweet girl, drugs in my drink, robbed). Well, no one needed to know that I had caused almost the whole shit myself, everything but the thievery, and the sympathy felt nice.

I sank down on my armchair when the locksmith had left at last. Summary of the night. Wallet. Stolen. Brandnew blackberry with phone numbers of various bands, celebrities, football players and politicians. Stolen. Keys. Stolen.

My self-esteem… bashed.

Feeling of self-respect… none.

Sighing I got up after a few minutes. I had to call the bank and needed my accounts blocked. And I had to talk to the owner of the house to get the lock changed because of my stolen keys. How much I hated paperwork and facing people with my stupidity!

Especially now in this shitty new place where I had no idea how to find anything of importance! I lived here, well, more or less, but I hadn’t moved in properly and instead of pictures on the walls I still had paper boxes piled and stacked everywhere. It would take a while to find all the papers for the bank but I had no choice but to accept my fate and finally bring some order and tidiness to this place.

Turning on the radio I kneeled down to search the first box I had placed on the floor of the living room. ‘Welcome to my life, you see it is not eeeeeeasy, but I’m doing aaaaaalright...’ Sounded from my huge speakers and I couldn’t help chuckling. Those damn Scandinavian bastards! Perfect song. Welcome to my wonderland of shit! Humming along with it, I rummaged around the room, deciding to get one of their CD’s for my self-pity-times.  

Even though my hands were fully occupied, my thoughts went back to Linnea again and again. Her baby, Jannis, he was so little but still that woman was out on the streets before six to get to work. Damn, she was so nice and strong and confident. She knew her ways through life, even with a baby.

When I had eventually found all my papers and blocked my bank account, everything I could think of was her. During the last hours of searching and cleaning I had almost glorified the young woman, starting to remind myself that she was only a nice person not some angel or God-sent fairy. Most probably it was my hangover or some aftershock of those roofies or whatever-pills that turned me upside down.

I took a long shower but it didn’t help me to clear my head. It was four in the afternoon and dark already but I didn’t care. I had to see her and thank her and ask her out and… standing in the doorway with my jacket in my hands, I stopped short. Damn, what was wrong with me? She was a mother, she was in a relationship and most probably I had already made a complete idiot of myself this morning. So what was I up to now?

Putting the jacket on anyway, I went downstairs to grab a bite and maybe a beer.

How would I ever manage to get her out on my head again?