I wouldn’t normally treat a headache with aspirin; I wouldn’t normally collapse into a coma...
Dai Evans: the resident student barfly, a standard fixture found in every pub and bar in Preston. By drinking with him, I was just inviting trouble.
The physics students used to speculate about Dai: they believed that he inhabited the strange world of quantum mechanics. They claimed that some sort of ‘ghostly’ Dai simultaneously drank in every known pub in Preston. He behaved like the quantum particle: when you opened the pub door, and observed him, you collapsed his superposition and forced him to occupy one pub – your pub. They called him the quantum boozer.
On this particular day, at around one o’clock in the afternoon, I’d arrived at the union bar, finally having finished a lengthy series of exams. Most of my classmates were with me and together we happily knocked back the drinks as talk shifted from the exams to our upcoming work placements. As Business Administration students we could expect to be placed almost anywhere. My posting had yet to be confirmed, but I presumed to be assigned to one or other of the high street banks. The experience would be useful, and might lead to future employment, but it seemed like a waste of a summer to me.
I kept on drinking.
After an hour or two, as the others began to drift off, I found myself bogged down in a pointless argument with Dai Evans. I remember listening and becoming steadily more enraged as he trundled through his longwinded and fatuous points. But I can’t remember what the argument was actually about, or why I’d bothered to engage in it in the first place. Surely I had better things to do than waste time with this obnoxious alcoholic. Apparently, I did not.
We later left the union and proceeded on to a nearby wine bar; the cool evening air, far from sobering me, simply exposed the scale of my inebriation. I enjoyed a drink, just like any other student, but not on this scale: when was the last time I saw double?
‘Drink yourself sober, mate.’
That was Dai’s advice. I was too pissed to know any better.
As we sat in the wine bar and resumed the ‘debate’, I became distracted by a worsening pain in my head. Again, Dai’s recommendation was simple – something about drinking through the pain-barrier.
But this didn’t work, the pain refused to budge; I subsequently left the wine bar and headed off for a night of oblivion, leaving Dai free to return to his quantum state – and ready to move in on some other unfortunate sap.
I staggered back to my nearby flat, increasingly troubled, and sobered, by my developing headache. If I felt the hangover now, what sort of state would I be in by tomorrow morning? Two minutes later, and with a head now pounding to the rhythms of an over-straining diesel engine, I began my search for the paracetamol. No paracetamol – shit! Maybe that girl next door – whatsername – had some...
What the hell was her name!?
The door opened.
‘Oh hi, my name’s Geoff, Geoff Christie? From next door?’ I pointed towards my door.
‘Yes I know, hello, Geoff ... a good night was it?’
No doubt my general demeanour was still conspicuously that of a hopeless drunkard. ‘Well no,’ I replied, attempting to steady myself, ‘since you ask, I’ve just spent the last few hours stuck with Dai. That’s why I’m here, I need some painkillers ... badly.’
‘Oh.’
My neighbour was either amused or indifferent, but I couldn’t tell which.
‘Come in, Geoff, I’ll see what I’ve got.’
I stepped inside and tried once more to remember the girl’s name: was it Jane? ... Again, I drew a blank. She was a nice sort, whatever her name, about five-seven, with long, straight, gingery-brown hair and a friendly face. I wondered if she had a boyfriend.
Miss X began her vigorous search for the paracetamol, rummaging through cupboards and slamming drawers as my headache grew steadily worse. Eventually: ‘I’m afraid I’ve only got soluble aspirin, will these do?’ She showed me the packet, her face slightly flushed from her exertions. I doubted that aspirin would be able to shift this rapidly developing monster, but...
‘Yeah, these should do the trick, thanks, can I have four?’
‘Four!? Poor Geoffrey, you must be in pain, haha!’
I watched her plop the four aspirins into water, convinced that she was giving me a coded come-on. Receiving the fizzing glass I nodded my thanks and lurched over, uninvited, to a nearby comfy chair. The aspirins continued to slowly dissolve as my host, sweetly smiling, almost laughing, waited patiently for me to say something, or do something, interesting ... But the alcohol swilled around my brain and erudition stubbornly hid from view:
I’ve been admiring you from afar – and babe – I think you make the grade! ... No.
I’ve been anatomically enhanced. ... No.
I suppose a shag’s out of the question... –No!
I took a swig of aspirin and, thankfully, remained silent.
But then I did finally pipe up: ‘Would you like to come to Blackpool with me?’
‘Blackpool!? – now!? – it’s a bit late isn’t it?’
‘No, not now–’ you daft cow, ‘–when I’ve sobered up.’
‘But this is my final year,’ the joker replied.
‘I should be fine in a day or so, how about Thursday, or the weekend?’ I asked, deciding to give up on this woman.
‘Hmmm,’ she scratched a tighted knee, ‘you say you will have sobered up, but will you stay sober?’
‘Yes, I’ll stay sober, I’m not normally a boozer, it’s just that today we’ve finished our exams, and Dai took advantage – so to speak. You shouldn’t judge me by the state I’m in now.’
‘Yeah, okay then.’
‘Yeah, you won’t judge me? Or ... err.’ My mind kept fading out into TV static.
‘Yes, let’s go to Blackpool! Now finish your drink and then piss off.’
I leaned back and drank some more of the aspirin: it tasted great! This hadn’t turned out to be such a wasted day after all. With the glass finally drained, I attempted to rise but struggled as the pain in my head suddenly flared. I made it to the standing position and turned to thank my patient friend, noticing briefly a look of sharp concern on her face...
The pain expanded like a balloon and, one by one, all my other senses made way for it. Everything began to fade out until, ultimately, there was only the pain – a simple, thoughtless agony.
Luckily, as I slipped into the coma, this faded out as well.
Now there was nothing.
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