London Diary 50

The heat coming from the heater warmed my hands. The soft hum of the engine dulled my senses. And the rhythmic rocking of the car through the streets of London almost sent me to sleep.

I looked across at the driving seat at him. Once upon a time I loved this man. Or so I thought I did. But we had a child together, our son. No matter what our differences were, we still had a bond that transcended all our divisions.

He was a god man. Let me rephrase that, he is a good man. Despite what I put him through, he rescued me, tonight. Whether it was serendipity or just a happy coincidence, I do not know. But if it was no for him, life would have got very sticky.

I turn, and look back through the rear window. I know no one is following us, but I still got to make sure. I am in a lot of trouble. I could get him to help me, but, I do not want his help. I cannot do it, I have taken enough from him already. I have taken him from his family, his work, his pride. I do not want to take anymore from him, he has given enough to me.

It is wet outside. Winter. Cold, damp, the rain still fresh on the tarmac. We hit a couple of puddles as he negotiates through the traffic. The nice thing about being driven is the fact that I do not have to sit outside in the cold. My cash in my bag is safe, plus the cash I got off her.

Yeah, I left her. I do not know if she is still alive, but she deserved what she got. Junkie. But what choice did I have. Stick around, call an ambulance and wait to get thrown in a cell. I got too much stuff on me for that. here is no such thing as a happy ending. Anyway, she made a choice, I just supplied the goods. She was already past it long before she met me. I was just a cheaper supplier, that is that.

In the end , it is just business. No thoughts, no personality. Just the cash in my bag. And her pills. That was a lucky find, but maybe I can make a couple of extra pennies by flogging it. Or maybe they will dull the pain in my head.

I need to sleep. But I cannot. My mind is always racing. Everytime I close my eyes, it feels as if a movie is playing on my eyelids. Maybe I should stop taking this stuff, but it keeps me going. Alive, and I can pay off this debt. He probably suspects what I am doing, t is why he picked me up. Not serendipity, not fate. These things do not happen in London. He just knows me, what I am capable off. We were once intimate, we were once in love. But that love is long gone from me. I have someone else. More important in my life. And he has to get over that. No matter what his kindness is like.

I know that he will try to sweet-talk to me. And I will have to placate him. Rub his neck a little, maybe kiss his cheek as a thank you. But that is as far as it goes. To leave him hanging. After all, I may need his help again sometime.

The night continues along. People spilling out of the clubs. Waiting for a Night Bus, trying to get a cab. I suppose I am lucky, warm, dry, getting ferried to somewhere for free. In need to sleep, and the heat makes me drowsy. But even though I can trust him, I still do not want to let my guard down. I keep my eyes open and watch the city flow by from the passenger seat. Slowly into the night…

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2 Comments

Filed under london, short story, writing

2 responses to “London Diary 50

  1. This one is one of your best ones. Really enjoyed it. Very sad and depressing, but very good. I think the enjoyment was also because I remember reading the part that comes before this story line a few weeks ago, so there is a nice continuity to the story.

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