My Writing,  writing


Some people might be kind of worried about getting a phone call from their sister at close to midnight on a Tuesday night. Especially when the person who starts speaking on the other end of the call is definitely not your sister. Bu for some reason I’m pretty calm about it.

Maybe it’s because it someone else on the other end of the phone who sounded like they had their shit together and so it felt like she was in safe hands for the time being.

Maybe I’m being naïve and it’s red herring or maybe I’m just so bored of not trusting people anymore and this guy had the sense to call me. I don’t know why he chose me of all people, it’s not like I asked that.

I just asked the important questions.

Like why he was calling me. Where he was. I told him when I’d get there. He told me he would stick around with her.

That was the extent of the conversation.

And now here I am.

Wading my way through a bunch of drunk people in their early 20s makes me so much older then I really am. I come in at 6 years older than my sister, but right now it might as well be 20. I both envy them the youthful energy they currently possess which feels like a distant memory to me and also wouldn’t wish to be in their shoes. People spill drinks on themselves, each other, the floor. They almost hit me, but apparently muscle memory is a powerful thing and I manage to swerve out of the way on multiple occasions.

I think it will be hard to find her in this mass of people and kind of curse myself for not remembering to agree on where to meet her. And him. Then just like that they appear.

Then the fear kicks in.

Her head is resting heavily on someone’s shoulder. He seems to become more alert once he sees me pushing through the crowd and for some reason that relaxes me. He’s on guard. She’s safe.

Or as safe as she can be given her surroundings.

I make the final push through the throngs of people and find myself in front of them, falling to my knees and trying to assess just how out of it she really is.

‘What happened?’

‘She drank something. I saw someone put it in her drink but couldn’t get to her before she drank it so this seemed like the next best thing.’ His response is logical and I know I shouldn’t be annoyed that he didn’t stop it from happening in the first place but this is maybe the next best thing.

‘How long ago?’

‘I called you almost as soon as it happened, so 20 minutes I guess.’

‘How long has she been like this?’

‘She hit my shoulder about 10 minutes ago, she’s been kind of babbling ever since.’ She still conscious, that’s a good thing.

‘How did you know to call me of all people?’ I don’t know why I ask him that and I regret it almost as soon as it leaves my mouth but I did and to cover it up I start trying to pull her upright.

‘I wasn’t about to call your parents and I dunno, I figured it would be best to get her out of the situation entirely, you don’t live on campus but you don’t live miles away. She is less likely to freak out if she wakes up at yours then someone else’s.’ I get her to stand and she falls onto me heavily, but easily. He stands up too to catch her as she slowly starts to lull backwards away from me.

‘How do you know where I live?’ I am pretty sure I’ve met this guy, or even ever heard of him, or any male friends that she might have, but honestly I can’t remember.

‘I’ve picked her up from your place before.’ He replies with ease and then just before she falls completely scoops her up into his arms and starts to carry her towards the door. I briefly start to wonder whether she has a boyfriend that she has either never told me about or I’ve forgotten existed. I hope it’s the former.

The crowds part a lot easier for him carrying her out then they did when I was trying to get to her.

But she’s safe.

She’ll be in my car soon and then in her bed and eventually she’ll be back to normal again. I’ll deal with all the questions I have later. In the morning.

When everything is calmer.


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