Score: Big City Life - Mattafix

Lydia

The fine weather we've been blessed with for the past two weeks ends abruptly on Tuesday, when the skies open, releasing gallons upon gallons of cold, gray rain, upon the cold, gray streets of London. The streets, parks, and alleyways get flooded with umbrellas, hoodies, and wellies. The tourists are easily spotted, scurrying from the shelter of one coffee shop, gallery, or shopping centre to the next, raincoats and all, surprised by the weather. It never gets old. It's freakin' England, what'd you expect - sunshine and rainbows all the time?

At least now I can focus on my revision, as there is nothing else to do. I've been distracted enough lately.

Yet, I can't seem to be able to focus fully. Worries about my exams, thoughts about leaving London, and a certain friend, who's recently made a reappearance after being MIA for two years, can't seem to leave me alone.

After we parted on Saturday, we've been texting all the time. It's like the two years we were separated don't even matter, and we're back to being besties. I even wrote in the group chat we still have, but haven't used in years, Gloria, Mark, and I.

Seeing him here, in London again, is stirring up lots of feelings I didn't know I was holding in. I am happy he's back, but I also feel angry that he left and ghosted both Gloria and me, for two years. I feel sad because the last time we saw each other was right before my mum took all those pills, and it seems like a whole lifetime away. Like, my life now is so different, that I don't know if there's space for Mark in it anymore.

I know it was my fault for pushing him away, as well, when it all happened, but I couldn't handle myself back then, let alone manage my relationships. Yet, Patrick, Gloria and Alex had stayed with me. They were there, every day. Every horrible minute of it. If he had wanted, Mark could have been there, too.

Yet, he wasn't.

Which is another thing. I know he's been through a lot, as well. A lot of stuff I don't know about. He seems changed somehow. Somehow more...reserved. More distant. I still remember that day by the lake in Hyde, when he just dismissed me, when I asked about his family. I can't help but feel that there's a lot he isn't telling me.

Having all those feelings distract me from my goals is not what I need right now. Which is why I've decided to do what I've been doing all along, with unwelcome emotions: lock them away and forget about them. Which is why I need to focus and stay away from Mark, at least until exams are over. After all, it's been two years. A month more shouldn't be an issue.

Patrick and I have been planning our revision and exam schedules together for the whole summer term. I am sitting Biology, Chem, and Philosophy, and he's got Maths, Chem, and Physics. We've both got Chem, so we've laid out a whole revision boot camp for it. Our first day was this past rainy, gloomy Tuesday and we spent the whole day, and night, at my place, studying. It was actually quite nice and we got loads of work done. He's always been my best study partner. He's smart and driven, and a hard worker, so we make for a good team.

On Wednesday afternoon, I get a call from Gloria, who asks to borrow my Biology notes. I have always been good at Biology and it is one of the subjects I enjoy the most. Also, it is our first A-Level, for Alex, Nate, Gloria, and myself. We are all sitting it together in two weeks.

"Sure, let me email them to you," I tell her, but she clicks her tongue.

"No, I want the hand-written ones. I know you have annotated them and you have all the important stuff highlighted and shit."

It's a fact. I take pride in my annotating skills. I do it with all books, not only my school notes and textbooks. I annotate novels, articles, and sometimes even magazines. And I do it properly, with all the colours and doodles and quotes extracts. Alex says I have OCD or something.

"Gloria, my car is still broken, I am not going all the way up to Hertfordshire to give you my Biology notes."

"I'll come down. Or, I'll think of something else. Actually, wait a sec," she says and I hear her talking to someone next to her: "Can you pick up Lyds's notes on your way back?" I hear a muffled voice say something that I don't quite catch.

"Great, then it's settled," Gloria says back on the phone.

"Who's that?" I ask.

"That was Mark," Gloria replies. "He's going into town and agreed to come by your place and pick up your notes."

"Oh," I say. I can feel my heart rate going up. "When?"

"Hang on," Gloria says and I can hear her talking to someone over there. "He'll be there in an hour."

Enough about not seeing Mark till exams are over then. Wow. It's been three whole days.

I shoot a glance into the full-length mirror, standing across from me in my room, and do a quick check of my appearance, assessing the need to shower, change and wash my hair in an hour.

"OK," Is all I say before I hang up and rush in a frenzy around my room to make myself more presentable, even though I'd just be handing over some stupid notes to Mark.

Mark arrives in precisely an hour and I am ready, hair washed and blow-dried, eyebrows drawn to perfection, even legs shaved, which happened I don't even know why, as I am wearing track pants. I am clutching my notes in my hand.

When I walk out of the building, Mark is standing on the sidewalk, just as he was on Saturday. When he sees me, his face stretches in a wide grin that reminds me of him as a young boy. His smile hasn't changed much since he was ten. The dimple in his left cheek still makes him look mischievous, when he smiles, giving his face a boyish look. He is wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt, and that chain with the plate pendant, he was wearing that night at Gloria's, and looks so good that my mouth starts to water and I get the familiar feeling of something warm coiling in the pit of my stomach.

What the hell is wrong with me!?

This is definitely not the collected, clear-minded, goal-oriented Lydia I need to be right now. Maybe I was abducted by aliens last Friday night. Aliens who replaced the chip in my head and turned me into an empty-headed, emotionally unstable, hormonal mess, who can't stay within a 20-foot distance from an old friend, without literally drooling.

I crinkle my nose, disgusted with myself.

Mark is holding a Venti Starbucks latte, with "Caramel" and a smiley face written on it.

"Here," he says, handing me the cup. "A small payback for the notes."

"Is this from you, or from Glo?" I ask as I reach out for the cup.

My fingers slide over his and I feel the warmth of his hand. A tingle goes through my arm, from my fingers, touching his, all the way up to my shoulder. The warmth in the pit of my stomach intensifies to a ball of fire.

I shake my head, tightening my grip on the cup, and hand the notes over to him.

"Here," I say, and then add, "I can't believe you drove all the way down here just to pick up my notes for Gloria."

"I was in London for business, anyway, so..."

"What kind of business?" I say before I can stop myself.

Damnit, why am I so nosy?

"Curiosity killed the cat, Lydia," Mark says, reaching with his hand and brushing his fingers against my cheek.

I wince at his touch. He yanks his hand away like he's realized what he's just done and is embarrassed about it.

I know I am blushing.

"Sure," I say, "I didn't mean to pry. Tell Gloria I expect her to buy me coffee next time." And then, "Why were you at her house, anyway?"

Enough about not prying, either.

Mark smiles, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"Nosy little thing, aren't you? Her mum's back from Ibiza. Gloria told her I was back for the summer and Diana wanted to see me. She's having the neighbors over for some drinks and shit," he explains. "Does this satisfy you, your Nosyness?"

I swat him on the arm but smile. It starts to rain again.

"You better go back inside," he says and pulls me in for a brief hug. I can smell his spicy aftershave and the warm scent of his skin. He releases me and I turn to go back inside.

"Thanks for the coffee..." I turn around, but he's already gone.

My phone rings and brings me back to earth from my elevated state. I look at the screen and see Gloria's name flashing across it. I pick up and she starts talking right away, her voice stricken with panic.

"Lyds? Oh, my God, Lyds, thank God you picked up!"

"What's wrong?" I ask, feeling my heart rate rise immediately. Gloria sounds out of her right mind.

"It's my mum! I can't wake her up, Lydia! She's passed out outside and I can't fucking wake her up!"

"Calm down, please, Glo! Has she been drinking? Do you know if she's taken something?" I try to keep my voice calm, but bile rises in my throat, as I wait for her response.

I've been there...

No, please, God, no. Not Diana, too...

"I don't know...I guess so...I saw her coke tray in the kitchen...and I think she's been chugging G&Ts all afternoon with our neighbor. She left an hour ago."

"Did you try slapping her?"

"Of course I did! I slapped her, splashed her with ice water...she's not waking, Lyds!"

"Stay right there, Gloria! I am getting a Uber and I am coming right away, OK?"

I hang up and rush up the stairs. I enter the flat and head straight to my room to collect my purse, an umbrella, and a leather jacket to keep me from the rain, then I rush straight back out, ordering a Uber to Hertfordshire on my way through the door. It'll take about 45 - 50 minutes to get there...

I don't have that much time...

Think, Lydia!

Suddenly, realization hits me and I am calling the only other person I know, who owns a house over in Hertfordshire.

Mark picks up at the third ring.

"Caramel?"

"Mark! Thank God!"

"What's wrong?" He sounds worried.

"Listen, Mark, I need you to listen to me!"

"Lydia, you are freaking me out! What's wrong?"

"Are you still close to my place?"

"Not really. Why?"

"Damnit!" I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.

He was my only hope...

"Lydia, what's going on?"

"It's Gloria's mum...She's unconscious. Gloria can't wake her up. No time to explain. She's apparently sniffed some, and drank a shitload of G&Ts. You said you saw her right before you drove here, right? Did she seem alright then?"

"Yes, but...I could tell she'd been drinking, she was quite out of it. It was over an hour ago, though..."

"Shit! Can you come back and pick me up, please? I was going to take a Uber, but we need to hurry..."

"Stay there, I'm coming."

"Thank you so much, Mark!" I say and hang up.

I cancel the Uber and anxiously stare at my phone, while I wait for Mark to come pick me up. I am worried that Gloria might call again, with even worse news. Diana is notorious for partying hard, but that's just too much! You'd tell she's the teenager...

I am so lost in thought I don't realize a car has pulled up at the curb in front of me.

A loud honking cuts through the thickening darkness and the rain. I lift my eyes from my phone and they meet Mark's golden-brown ones. He's looking at me through the rolled-down driver's window of a sleek, black Discovery.

I lift my brow at the sight of the car. I hadn't noticed what car he'd come to pick up my notes with. He notices my expression and shrugs his shoulders.

"It's one of my dad's. I returned the rental."

"That's fine, let's go," I say, already climbing into the passenger seat.

He starts the car and pulls into the traffic in no time. The rain is tapping on the screen and the windows and it is almost completely dark outside now, even though it is not that late, but the thick, heavy clouds have been almost impenetrable to the light of the sun the entire day.

"I'm calling Gloria," I say, my fingers already scrolling to find her name on my phone's screen.

Mark nods and makes a forbidden left turn, to spare us some of the heavy traffic.

Gloria picks up and I can hear that she's sobbing through the phone.

"Lyds?" She cries and my heart twitches with pain at her tone.

"Hey, I'm on my way. Mark's driving me to your house...How's Diana?"

"Same. She hasn't moved. She won't wake. She's still breathing, though, I checked."

"Good. Did you call your dad?"

"No!" Gloria yells in the phone. "Are you insane? If I call him and he sees her like that, he will ruin her. He'll never let her see Petra again until she turns eighteen."

I sigh. I know she is right, but I can't help but wonder how a bunch of kids are going to deal with a grown woman, who has taken God knows what in God knows what amounts.

"OK, we are coming, just try to calm down, OK? Have a drink, but just one drink. And call the paramedics, right now..."

"I can't call the paramedics," Gloria sobs. "There's coke everywhere, we are going to get into so much trouble."

"Shit! OK, just wait, we're going to be there as soon as we can."

"Hurry!" Gloria sobs again and hangs up.

"What's going on?" Mark asks, his eyes locked on the road.

He has broken at least ten traffic rules by now, and is moving way past the speed limit, but, for once, I am happy with that.

"It's not good, Mark," I say, shaking my head. "She hasn't woken up yet. Gloria is not calling the paramedics, as she is afraid they will call the police when they see Diana all passed out, overdosed, and she can't call her dad, because she is afraid he'd be so pissed off, he'd take Petra away from Diana."

"Well, that might be a good thing," Mark says, his brows so pulled in, there is a thick crevice between them.

"What? Why?"

"Well, that house is not a place for a fifteen-year-old girl to be living in. I love Gloria to pieces, but there's blow everywhere, and Diana's not even there most of the time, and when she is..." he shakes his head as if saying, see what happens when she's there...

"Gloria spends so much time in London that Petra is living there all alone with the staff."

I know he's right, but Petra is Diana's life, and, without her there, Diana would probably be in a much, much worse state.

"You don't know what you're talking about," is the only thing I can say. "You weren't even there when Matthew left. You don't know what they've been through."

"You can be protective of them all you want, but you know that I am right."

I sigh. "I know."

"So, what's the plan? What are we going to do, when we get there?"

"I don't know, but we have to come up with something. Ideally, she'd already be awake by the time we get there. If not, we'd have to take her to a hospital, I guess."

He nods, his gaze steady on the road, as he passes by a speed limit sign, at least twenty miles above said limit.

For the rest of the drive, I look up hospitals and 24/7 clinics in Hertfordshire on my phone. Both Mark and I are silent if you don't count the occasional cussing at other drivers on Mark's end.

When Mark pulls up in front of Gloria's, she's already waiting for us at the front door. I can see that she has been crying, her eyes are red and swollen, mascara running down her cheeks and her nose is the same colour as her crimson t-shirt. Her hair is up in a messy bun.
"Oh, Lyds, thank God you are here!"

She flings an arm around my neck and I try to calm her down, petting her hair like a little girl's.

"Petra is in her room, she hasn't come out the entire evening, ever since we found her."

"Where is Aunty Dee?" I gently urge her.

She waves her hand towards the house, nowhere in particular.

"Lead the way," I say and she disappears inside the house.