Lost and Found

In the month of Valentine’s Day I offer this tale of brief devastating loss from what to me is not a natural standpoint. This originally started out as a 1 page piece but the story intrigued me so I let it run its course. You'll be able to tell roughly when it was written from the pop culture references.

Lost and Found

The girl slung her bag over her shoulder picked up her suitcase and walked off down the front path. Behind her, leaning helplessly against the door frame was Ron. His elbow dug painfully into the frame but he didn’t seem to notice. He stared after the girl with a sad but desperate expression on his face.

“Don’t go, Alice.” he whispered under his breath. “Don’t go.” The girl had reached the wrought iron gate that led out onto the street. She paused and turned her head slightly towards him as if she had heard. A flicker of hope lit itself in Ron’s chest. Alice turned away, opened the gate and walked out into the street. The flame went out. Ron leant his head on his arm. Tears were coming into his eyes. He turned around and leant back on the doorway, looking hopelessly up at the top of the frame. His eyes moved aimlessly to the clouds up in the bright blue sky above him. They rolled past, oblivious to what had just happened. Not caring about how Ron felt. Not even the slightest bit concerned as his heart slowly broke in two.

Ron lay on his back on his bed staring at his white bedroom ceiling, making faces out of the little bumps in the pattern. He suddenly caught sight of one with small, perfect eyes, a delicate nose and a wide but beautiful smile. It looked just like Alice. Ron rolled onto his side to avoid looking at it and found himself staring straight at the framed photo of Alice that was perched on his bedside table. He got up hurriedly and moved casually into the kitchen. Mechanically he picked up the kettle and went over to the sink to fill it. As the water rushed in he heard the telephone ring. He turned the tap off, put the kettle down and moved towards the hall. He leant against the doorway of the kitchen and stared down at the phone, waiting for the answer machine to come on. After a few more rings he heard his own voice.

“Hi! This is Ron’s pad. I’m not here at the moment. So just leave a message after the beep.” Ron heard the tone and waited expectantly to hear who the caller was.

“Hey, Ron!” Harry, one of his mates. Ron sighed and turned away back into the kitchen. Not who he’d hoped it would be.

“Hey, if you’re there, pick up, bud.” Ron finished filling the kettle and put it on its stand. He switched it on and picked a cup out of the cupboard.

“We haven’t seen you for days, bro! What’s up? The sky fall in on you?”

“You have no idea.” Ron said to himself as he put the milk and sugar in the cup.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, “Us lads were gonna go down the pub tonight. Wanna come? Come on, it’ll be a laugh!” Ron paused to think about this.

“Oh well, let me now when you get this message.” A click and a beep and Harry hung up. Ron stood listening to the tape in the answer machine rewind. The shrill whistle of the kettle brought him back to earth. He switched it off and poured the water into his cup on top of the tea bag. He picked it up and swirled it around for a couple of times before pulling out the bag. He slouched out of the kitchen but paused as he passed the phone. Harry was right. They hadn’t seen him for ages. Maybe he’d go along tonight. If he felt like it. He went into the lounge and sat down heavily in an armchair.

The door of the Prince Edward public house swung inward and Ron walked in. He ambled up to group at the bar.

“Hey guys!” he said.

“Hey!” Stan said, “You made it!”

“You got my message then.” Harry said.

“Yeah.” Ron said.

“What can I get ya?” Eddie asked. Ron shrugged.

“Uh, pint of bitter.”

“Pint of bitter.” Eddie said to the barman. Ron took his drink gratefully.

“Did you see the match on Saturday?” Jeff asked as Ron took a sip.

“Yeah.” Stan said, dejectedly, “We was robbed!”

“That ref.” Jeff said, “What a nightmare!”

“It wasn’t just the ref though, was it?” Harry said.

“Nah.” Stan said, “It was that hopeless midfielder. What was his name? Russ?”

“Reeves.” Harry said, “I mean, that was such an obvious foul.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “I almost felt sorry for the guy he knocked down.”

“And then that sub.” Stan said, “What was the coach thinking? Takes off the best player, shoves on the worst!” Ron stood silently beside them, listening to them going on and on about the football match. He tried to join in. To go with the flow. But his heart wasn’t in it. His heart was in pieces with a picture of Alice branded on each shard. The door opening caught his eye and he turned to see who it was. It was Deirdre - Stan's girl. She walked over to Stan, straight past Ron. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything at the moment.

“Hey honey!” Deirdre said, greeting Stan with a kiss.

“Hey gorgeous.” Stan said, setting his glass down, “What you doing here?”

“Viv and Eileen have gone out so I thought I’d come down here with you guys. You don’t mind, do you?” she picked up Stan’s glass and finished it for him.

“Nah!” Harry said, “We don’t mind. Do we lads?”

“No!” they all called out. Ron didn’t join in. his mind was running over what had happened earlier that day. Deirdre noticed his misery.

“What’s up with Ron?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s just a case of the blues.” Stan said.

“Alice left him.” Jeff said.

“Aw.” Deirdre said. She moved round to Ron.

“Sorry, honey.” She said. “But come on, you gotta cheer up. There’s no point moping over her now she’s gone. You gotta learn to let these things go and move on. All right?” Ron nodded but he didn’t feel any different inside. No point moping. What else was there to do? He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to keep her in his head forever. He wanted to hold her tight in his arms and whisper loving things in her ear. But he couldn’t. She’d walked out on him and all he had to hug was his beer glass. The others had carried on with their football conversation, regardless of whether Deirdre was there or not. In fact, she could give them a good run for their money any day and knew more than most. They had moved further up the bar but Ron made no attempt to join them. He leant back against the bar and sighed softly. He shouldn’t have come. He knew it was a stupid idea. But he’d though his friends would be able to cheer him up. Fat chance of that. Everything he saw reminded him of Alice. A sheet fluttering on a clothes line was the skirt of her dress. A twig gently brushing against his face as he passed was her fingers caressing his face.  A twinkle of light reflecting off a polished surface was her dazzling smile. Every time he saw a girl with long blonde hair he hoped it was Alice. But it never was. He stared vacantly at no particular spot just running through all his memories he had of himself and Alice. Then he came to her leaving and the harsh clang of the gate as it swung back behind her brought him back to his senses. A young girl on the other side of the pub was staring at him with a curious expression on his face. She had long platinum blonde hair but her brown mousy roots were showing. Ron took another swig of his drink. The girl stood up and made her way over to him. He made no movement.

“Hi.” She said, her ice blue eyes sparkling, mischievously. The corner of Ron's mouth twitched but other than that he made no acknowledgement of her presence. She moved round behind him and slid her arm over his shoulder.

“You missing something?” he shrugged her off. She didn’t relent. He finished off his drink and put the empty glass down on the counter. She moved round in front of him.

“What’s the matter?” she said. She moved her face close to his.

“You looking for a good time?” Ron tried to avoid looking at her. She slid her arms around his neck.

“Well?” she said. He lifted her hands off of him. Not even bothering to look at her. His face still showing utter misery and abandonment.

“What’s up with you?” she said, her tone suddenly harsh. He turned his head away from her. She spun around and marched away. Jeff saw her go. He detached himself from the throng and moved down to stand at Ron's side.

“You really ought to try to get over this, you know.” He said. Ron looked down at his hands.

“I know it’s hard.” Jeff said, "But we gotta try. Ok?” Ron half-nodded and Jeff went back to the others.

“You don’t know anything.” Ron said, quietly.

Ron turned his key in the lock and let himself in. He slammed the door shut behind him and stumbled into his bedroom. He collapsed on the bed and lay facedown with his head buried in the pillows. He felt sick and he wanted to get to sleep before he body obeyed his mind. Behind his closed eyelids, pictures of Alice danced before him. Alice smiling, Alice turning to look at him, Alice holding her arms out to him, Alice laughing at one of his jokes, Alice lying peacefully on the bed and then, inevitably, Alice turning away from him and walking off into the distance. He saw himself standing in the doorway staring stupidly after her and at that point, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

He woke up with a splitting headache. He tried to sit up and the pain intensified. The dizzy feeling spread to his stomach and he knew he was going to be sick. He scrambled hurriedly out of bed, knocking the photo of Alice on the floor, the glass splintering instantly. He made it to the bathroom in time and knelt for a few minutes, steadying his breathing, trying to get enough air into his lungs. When the nausea died down, he stood up shakily and made his way back into the bedroom. He noticed the photo frame on the floor and let out a short sigh of anguish. He went over to it and carefully picked it up. The glass tinkling gently. He sat down on his bed and stared at the picture. Alice’s face, distorted by hundreds of sliver of glass.  He laid it gently on the bedside table and sat staring down at the floor with his head in his hands. A single tear trickled out of the crack between his fingers and plopped on the ground. He let out a short sharp sob and keeled back over on to the bed, still carefully avoiding Alice’s spot. The pillow beneath him grew a little damp patch as he lay in a foetal position. His hands clutching his face in a state of complete agony. He rolled over on the mattress so that he lay face down, letting the sheets soak up the moisture from his face.

Ron sat slumped in an armchair in front of the TV; a packet of smoky bacon crinkle chips in one hand and the TV remote balanced precariously on the arm of the chair. A bottle of Muller’s Whisky stood on the coffee table - the contents half gone. Ron's hand dived into the bag and pulled out another handful of chips and stuffed them into his mouth. On the TV screen a chat show had just started with the topic being ‘Forgive and Forget’ about partners who had split up and one of who wanted to get back together. The first participant was sat in a chair on the stage. He had long black hair and tears were welling up in his eyes. The caption beneath him said: - ‘Cougar – split from girlfriend Dot – wants to get back together again’. Backstage was his girlfriend with the caption ‘Dot – says doesn’t love Cougar – happily settled with Ryan’. The presenter chatted to Cougar for a while about his relationship with Dot before bringing her out on stage. She walked on hand-in-hand with a tall man with short blond hair and sharp blue eyes who was obviously Ryan. The show went on with Cougar in tears as he tried to persuade Dot to live with him again and Dot politely but firmly refusing and explaining that she was content with Ryan and then dropping the bombshell that she and Ryan were due to marry soon – KABOOM! – and that she was expecting Ryan’s child – KABOOM! KABOOM! The show moved swiftly on to another young man with short brown hair and small, bright brown eyes. Ron was reminded of himself. ‘Rory’ the caption said, ‘unhappily split from fiancée Alicia after row – simply wants forgiveness’. Backstage was Alicia, a young, pretty girl with long, blonde hair and hopeful hazel eyes. ‘Just like Alice’ Ron thought. He forced himself to keep watching. Alicia was staring up at the screen above her which was showing the programme with a mournful but expectant look. The caption beneath Alicia said ‘Alicia – completely forgives Rory and wants to get back with him’. Rory was asked about his relationship with Alicia prior to the break up and Ron noticed many more similarities. Finally, Alicia was brought out. Rory seemed pleased when she didn’t appear with another bloke. She sat down on the chair closest to Rory, trying to get as near to him as she possibly could. The host now talked to Alicia who repeated everything that Rory had previously said, including the details of the separation. She agreed it had been stupid to argue over such a petty thing and admitted she wanted to get back with Rory. Rory’s petite smile suddenly flooded across his face and he put his hand on hers, which was resting on the arm of the chair. Alicia looked up at Rory, a broad smile on her face as well.

“Well Rory,” the presenter said, “I believe there was something you wanted to ask Alicia.” Rory nodded and slid off his chair. He dug his hand in his trouser pocket, pulling out a small black box. Alicia knew what was coming but she did not turn away nor did she make any kind of snide action. Rory showed her the diamond engagement ring.

“Look familiar?” he asked. Alicia nodded. Rory took it out of the box and held it up for all to see. He took Alicia’s hand.

“Alicia,” he said, “Would you consent to be my wife? Again.” Alicia was fighting a losing battle with the tears that were flooding her eyes and trickling down her face.

“Of course.” She said, creakily. The ring was slid on to her finger and the couple embraced. Ron grabbed the remote and switched the set off. He threw the chips off his lap and stomped out of the room into the bathroom. The tears had come back hot to his eyes, stinging his cheeks. He ran some cold water and splashed his face. He toweled himself dry and sat on the edge of the bath running his fingers through his hair. He heard the doorbell ring and rushed to answer it. It wasn’t Alice. It was the postman with a bundle of letters and a small package for him. Ron accepted his mail and went back in the house. The letters were mainly bills; one was a postcard from his sister who was on holiday in the south of France with her husband, Zak. The package turned out to be from Shot City, his photo company. He opened it and immediately bit back the tears. There were all from last month’s party and in each photo were both himself and Alice smiling, yelling, cheering, and drinking. He threw the photos on the floor and dropped onto the chair beside the phone. All their happy memories came flooding back and his broken heart ached all the more. He turned his head absently to the phone and sat staring down at it for a while. Then impulse drove him onward. He picked up the phone and dialled Alice’s mobile number. He waited for several rings and then heard,

“Hi! You’ve reached Alice’s voicemail service. I’m sorry I can’t take this call at the moment so just leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can. Thanks.” Ron smiled. He remembered setting that special notice with Alice when she’d just got her phone. It had been fun. They’d tried all sorts of notices to begin before settling on the present one. Ron heard the beep but he didn’t leave a message. It wouldn’t have done any good. She’d have deleted it as soon as she’d heard his voice. There wasn’t any point in phoning her in the first place. She would just have put the phone down on him. He was stupid to have done that. He put the phone back and stood up. He wandered aimlessly into the bedroom, turned round and promptly fell backwards onto the bed. He lay flat on his back on his bed staring straight up above him without reason. He came across the ‘Alice’ face again and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look at it. He tried to block everything out of his mind. He just wanted to go to sleep. He still had a headache from his earlier hangover. He just wanted to fall asleep. Fall deep asleep and never wake up, never wake up again, never have to go through all the pain again, never have to feel all the misery, never have to experience his heart being crushed, never again. When he did manage to fall asleep, Alice was constantly in his thoughts. Still smiling, still laughing. But this time it was different. She was laughing at him, not with him. Standing over him, laughing a deep, threatening laugh. Making fun of him as he cowered in the corner, shivering with fear and grief. Even after he woke up, he could still hear that raucous laugh. Hear it ringing in his ears; hear it thundering in his head. When the memory of the dream subsided he could still hear the ringing. Then he realised it was his phone. He hurried up and into the hall. The answer phone came on he waited for the beep and the voice of the caller.

“Ron?” Alice! Ron hand reached for the receiver. “If you are there, don’t pick up. I think it’s better if we talk this way.” Ron hand withdrew and he waited to see what she had to say.

“I’m just wanted to phone and say I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to stay together. I don’t think it would work. You understand, don’t you?”

“No.” Ron said to himself.

“Well, whatever you think, I’m not interested in us, Ron. So just let it drop. I’m not coming back.” There was a pause. “Sorry.” She hung up. Ron stood by the phone, his face showing complete agony. His body was shrivelled, curling up into a tight, little ball; his hand tucked in tightly. He slid to the floor and lay there motionless. His muscles tense all over. The minutes turned into hours and still Ron lay there. Time didn’t matter to him any more. He didn’t care how long he lay on the floor. Days, weeks, months, it was all the same to him. It wasn’t until the clock in the living room struck six o’ clock that he showed any sign of movement. His stomach having been cleared of alcohol was empty and he was starting to get hunger pains. He didn’t want to feel any more pain than was necessary so he got shakily to his feet and went into the kitchen. He scraped around in the bottom of his fridge to see what he could find. He wasn’t feeling very worried about what he ate – anything would do. He found a varied assortment of food and put it between two pieces of bread. He went into the living room to eat.  He put the TV on and sat basking in its glow. He didn’t pay attention to what was on. It didn’t matter. Nothing did. He added a few smoky bacon chips to his sandwich and took a bite. Taste meant nothing to him. He didn’t know whether it was sweet or sour, nice or nasty. He didn’t care. In time, he finished his sandwich and lolled in front of the TV, sinking deeper and deeper into the armchair. He dozed on and off throughout the night and, before he finally feel properly asleep, he had just one thought on his mind – ‘I don’t want to have to put up with this pain any longer.’

The phone rang and Stan picked it up.

“You are through to Stan.”

“Hey Stan, it’s me.”

“Hey! Hi Harry!”

“Listen, you seen Ron lately?”

“Not since that night at the pub.”

“That was two days ago.”

“Yeah. He didn’t look too good then. God only knows what state he’s in now.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

“Yeah. No answer. Just his answer phone.”

“Maybe you ought to go round there.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Have you asked Alice?”

“Like she’d know.”

“Suppose not.”

“I’ll just nip round there – see how he is.”

“Let me know, won’t you?”

“Sure.” Stan put the phone and on the other end. Harry did the same. He hesitated a moment then grabbed his car keys and got up and out of his flat. He hurried down the front stairs and into his Peugeot. He started the engine, put it in gear and zoomed off.

He pulled up in front of Ron's house in a couple of minutes. He got out and went cautiously down the front path. He rang the doorbell and waited. No response. He moved round to the big front windows but couldn’t make out anything through the net curtain. After a few minutes, curiosity and anxiety got the better of him. He pulled the spare key out from under the brick by the front step, that Ron kept for emergencies, and let himself in.

“Ron?” he called. Still nothing. He closed the door behind him.

“Hello?” he moved into the living room. The television was still blaring away. Harry switched it off.

“Where are you, bud?” the kitchen next. Not much washing up. He probably hadn’t been eating. No sign of him in here.

“Ron?” he moved out onto what would be the landing if it was a proper house. He walked cautiously along.

“Ron?” he reached the bathroom and looked in.

“Ron!” Ron lay on his side on the bathroom floor. Harry bent over him and felt for a pulse. There was something there, but it wasn’t clear. Ron's legs were slightly bent putting him a position similar to a diver. One hand was by his side but the other was high above him. Harry followed the arm up past the hand and saw a small glass bottle, which had rolled beneath the sink. He picked it up. It was a bottle of large white pills and was almost empty. Harry looked at Ron.

“You…f- idiot.” He said softly. Ron's pale, expressionless face didn’t even twitch,. Harry scrambled to the phone and dialled 999. While he waited for the ambulance, he went back into the bathroom and crouched down beside the figure. He hurriedly began performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Hold the nose, breathe. 1-2-3-4-5. Breathe. 1-2-3-4-5. Come on Ron. Breathe. 1-2-3-4-5. Breathe. Where was that ambulance? 1-2-3-4-5. Breathe. 1-2-3-4-5. For god’s sake Ron, make an effort. Breathe. 1-2-3-4-5. He stopped and checked for a pulse. It was there, but still faint. Come on, you stupid…prat. Breathe.1-2-3-4-5. At last he heard the ambulance siren coming closer and closer. Reluctantly, he left Ron on the floor and went to let the ambulance men in. he showed them into the bathroom. They too spotted the pills.

“How many of these has he taken?” one of them asked, holding up the bottle.

“I don’t know.” Harry said, helplessly. The paramedics busied themselves around Ron and once he was stable they got him onto a board and carried him out to the ambulance. Harry heard a ringing and realised it as his mobile. He’d forgotten he had it on him. He pulled it out.

“Hello?”

“Hey Harry.”

“Oh, hey Stan.”

“Found Ron?”

“Oh yeah.”

“What do you mean by that?” one of the ambulance men motioned for Harry to come along.

“I’ll explain it to you later. I’ve got to go with the ambulance right now.”

“Ambulance! What on earth are you talking about? What’s going on? What…” Harry shut the phone on him and climbed up beside Ron's stretcher. The ambulance doors were shut and the ambulance sped off into the distance.

At St. Dane’s hospital, the ambulance was stopped and Ron was unloaded. He was rushed straight the big double doors and into the resuscitation room. Harry was left alone in the A&E waiting area. His mobile phone went off again. He pulled it out of his pocket.

“I’m afraid you can’t use that in here.” The receptionist said. Harry went outside before he answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Harry!” Stan's voice, “Harry, what the heck is happening? What’s going on? Is Ron all right? What…”

“Calm down, calm down.” Harry said, “It’s a long story and now’s not the time to tell it.”

“All right.” Stan said, “Just tell me what hospital you’re at.”

“St. Dane’s” blip. Stan had gone. Harry stood clutching his mobile for just a while longer. He wondered whether he should give Alice a ring – let her know what was going on. He decided against it. He walked slowly back into the hospital and tried to find someone he could ask about Ron.

Down the hall, Ron was lying on a resuscitation trolley with pipes and drips leading into his body, trying to drain all the toxins out of him. Beside him was his heartbeat monitor. The peaks were short and sparse. He wasn’t making much of an effort to regain consciousness. The line flattened out completely. The doctors began the resuscitation procedure. Ron gave no response. The crash trolley was brought out and Ron's body was pumped with 200 volts. Still nothing. Another 200. Nothing. The power was switched up to 360 volts and the pads were pressed onto Ron's chest. A jerk and finally a reply, stronger and clearer than before. The doctors pumped more adrenaline into Ron's bloodstream and suddenly his eyelids shot open with a long intake of breath.

“Welcome back, Ron.” Said one of the doctors. Ron made no effort to reply.

Harry had been sent to the relatives’ room and now sat on the edge of one of the seats, tense and anxious. The door handle was pressed downwards and Harry looked up as the door swung inward.

“Harry!” Stan, Jeff and Eddie charged into the room and swarmed round Harry, shooting questions at him.

“What’s happened?”

“Where’s Ron?”

“What’s happened to him?”

“What’s going on?”

“Why haven’t you told us anything?” Harry quieted them and began to explain slowly and carefully just what had happened. When he had finished everyone collapsed into a chair and they sat contemplating the situation in silence.

“That…great…berk.” Stan said, resisting the temptation to use stronger language. A murmur of agreement around the room.

“Have you told Alice?” Jeff asked. Harry shook his head.

“No.” he said.

“Why not?” Eddie asked.

“Do you think she’d be interested? Or even care?” everyone agreed with this. The door opened again and a staff nurse looked into the room.

“Are you Mr. Dale’s party?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he’s stable now. If one of you wants to go and see him, you can. But only one, mind.” They looked at each.

“I’ll go.” Harry said, eventually, “I was the one that found him. I’ll report back to you. See you in a minute.” He left the room.

The resuscitation room was reasonably quiet with only the regular blips of the various machines disturbing the silence. Ron's bed was opposite the doors so Harry was able to walk straight over to him. He was leaning back on the mattress, which had been propped up into a sitting position. There was no movement in either his arms or his legs. Tubes and pipes lead into and out of his body. His eyes were half-open and watched carefully as Harry approached him. Harry reached his bedside and stopped.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“You should have let me die.” Ron said, as he turned his head away from Harry. Harry was shocked by this. He struggled to control his anger.

“Oh, come on, mate. It can’t be that bad.” Ron turned back to him.

“Can’t it?” he asked. Harry didn’t reply. Ron turned away again.

“What made you go this far?” Harry asked. Ron's eyes turned to him this time.

“Look in my jacket pocket.” He said. Harry found the jacket and pulled out a mini cassette recorder.

“Listen to it.” Ron said, without looking at him. Harry pressed rewind and waited. Then he pressed play and listened.

“Ron?” Alice’s voice. “If you are there, don’t pick up. I think it’s better if we talk this way. I’m just wanted to phone and say I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to stay together. I don’t think it would work. You understand, don’t you? Well, whatever you think, I’m not interested in us, Ron. So just let it drop. I’m not coming back. Sorry.” A beep and a click. Harry stopped the tape.

“She left that on my answering machine.” Ron said, “She doesn’t even want talk to me.” He turned his head towards Harry. “Have you called her?”

“No.” Harry said.

“Good.” Ron answered, “Don’t.” Harry felt a bit awkward for a minute.

“Look, Ron, isn’t this getting a bit silly?” Ron looked at him.

“Silly for who?” he asked. “She left me. She knew how much I cared about her and she just walked out on me. She – broke – my – heart.” Silence. Harry couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Please leave.” Ron said. Harry obeyed. He stood outside for a minute, going over in his mind what he had just heard. He was still clutching the cassette recorder. Slowly, he made his way back to the relatives’ room to report Ron's condition to the others.

Ron was discharged from hospital several days later. He was collected from the hospital by his friends who partly wanted to see how he was and partly wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to step out in front of a bus on his way home. But Ron had given up on suicide. He knew that if he tried again, the others would be down on him like a ton of bricks and he’d just be stuck in hospital again. The others dropped him off at his house and, after making sure he was all right, they left him to himself. Ron moped about the house for the rest of the day, not doing anything in particular. He closed the curtains when it got dark and decided on the radio instead of the TV. He switched it on and went to find something he fancied eating. He settled on a bowl of cereal and after much soul-searching chose water as opposed to alcohol. He took his meal back into the living just as the disc jockey announced the next song.

“And now, by request of Miss Teresa Fisher, here is westlife with What makes a man.”

“How appropriate.” Ron thought to himself. He painfully endured the whole song, resisting he urge to change stations.

“There you go, Teresa.” The radio announcer said, “and now, another request. This one is from Miss Mary Chanson who would like to hear atomic kitten sing Whole Again. So here it is for you Mary.” Ron leapt up and switched the radio off. Anything on TV would be better than that collection of songs. Next it would probably be jamelia and Call Me or something like that. The TV came on and a scene from Casualty flashed onto the screen. Not what he wanted to see. He changed channels and found a documentary on the life of Emperor Tarquin of the Roman Empire.

“Oh good.” Ron thought, “This should send me to sleep.” In actual fact it didn’t and it wasn’t until the adverts came on that Ron managed to drift away from reality. He woke late in the afternoon of the next day. The television was still blaring away, now showing a quiz show. He switched it off and sat back in his chair, not knowing what he could do next. He decided on getting something to eat and went to fetch something from the kitchen. He grabbed a few bits and pieces and went back into the living room to eat them. He turned the TV back on and settled for a comedy programme because he felt like he needed a few laughs. Unfortunately there was nothing that could even make him smile. His phone rang while he was watching the show and he hauled himself out of his chair to answer it.  It was Stan checking up on him.

“Hey Ron! How are ya? Feeling any better?”

“Yeah.” Ron said, disconsolately.

“Great.” Stan said, “No nasty side effects?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Ron said miserably. And so it went on for about 15 minutes – Stan asking Ron a question and Ron answered with a ‘yes’, a ‘no’ or a ‘maybe’.

When the conversation finally ended, Ron put the phone down and wandered back into the living room. He slumped back into the armchair to finish watching the show. In due course, the programme came to an end and Ron sank deeper into his chair as he waited for the next one. It was another documentary so Ron changed channels to a soap opera. The doorbell rang while he was watching this and he struggled up and out of the room. He cast a backward glance at the TV before he pulled the chain off the door, turned the knob and pulled it open.  Alice stood on the doorstep. She was wearing her old trenchcoat, the one that matched Ron's. She had her suitcases in both hands and was smiling cautiously at him.

“Hi.” She said. Ron's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. Alice looked down at her feet. “Look, I’m sorry.” She said. “I was wrong. I can’t live without you any more than you can live without me.” There was a pause. Several thoughts were running through Ron's mind and he instinctively adopted an indifferent approach which was noticeably weak.

“er…what…er wh-what about…the…the…er,”

“The phone call?” Alice said. Ron nodded. Alice shrugged. “It was just a stupid last ditch attempt to convince myself that it was better that we had split up. But it wasn’t. I missed you, Ron. I missed you a lot.” Ron stood slightly nonplussed and slightly taken aback by this sudden confession.

“Did you miss me?” Alice asked, still clutching her suitcase. Ron attempted an unconcerned shrug.

“Er…well…” he stuttered. Alice smiled. She understood. Ron was glad she did.

“I made myself realise that I wanted to come back to you.” A pause. “If you want me.” Ron hesitated for a split second before stepping out of his front door towards Alice. His expression hadn’t changed and Alice seemed worried about what his next move would be. Ron threw his arms around her. The dazzling smile spread across Alice’s beautiful face. She dropped her suitcases and hugged him back, his arms holding her as tightly as he could. Still not letting go, he picked her up off the ground and swung her round before putting her gently back down. They withdrew just enough to be able to see each other. Then they moved towards each other again. Ron couldn’t wait and pressed his lips firmly onto Alice’s. She kissed him back and the two of them stood together on Ron's front step, locked in a loving embrace. Ron didn’t want this moment to end. He stood completely still with only his head moving as he attempted to get a better grip on Alice. He didn’t ever want to let her go. He just wanted to go on hugging and hugging her. The feeling was increased by the fact that he knew Alice felt exactly the same about him. Finally, they let go of each other enough to enable them to pick up Alice’s bags and take them indoors. This time, as the door closed behind them, the catch shut with a complete click and the flat finally felt full. They dumped her bags in his room and went into the living room. They cleared away his mess and settled themselves in one armchair, keeping as close to each other as possible. Ron switched the TV on but he didn’t care what programme was showing. Any programme was all right so long as he had Alice beside him to watch it with. Every now and then she looked down at him and they sneaked a quick kiss.

When they had finally had enough of the television, they switched it off and made their way towards the bedroom. They slipped in between the covers and slid their arms around each other. Ron pulled Alice as close to him as he possibly could and again their lips touched. Instead of pulling back, they moved forward into a deep and passionate kiss. When Ron turned out the bedside light that night, he knew he wasn’t ever going to let Alice go again. Nothing was worth that pain.