But It’s Working In Your Blood
Today’s short story is based on the following MGMT lyrics suggested by my brother; “but it’s working in your blood, which you know is not the same as love, love is only in your mind and not your heart”.
Lucas wasn’t one for the ladies, though it wasn’t through a lack of trying.
Being called “Lucas the Puke-as” almost every day for 7 years of Primary School and another 4 at Secondary was enough to dent anyone’s confidence.
The Christmas Disco in 2001 had been the peak of his embarrassment. It’s one thing being called “Lucas the Puke-as” but it’s another thing entirely actually living up to the name in front of the other 100 or so people in your year.
Dave’s Dad was a big cider drinker and Lucas had a bit too much scrumpy before they left for the salubrious surroundings of the school assembly hall.
The fermented apples had given Lucas a shot of confidence, so much so that he’d asked Julia Cowie to dance. At that precise moment Lucas put the ‘puke-as’ into his name for real and he’d never been the same since.
Fast forward 8 years and Lucas was working for the local council in a dead end job hoping that there was something better out there for him.
It was “Saggy Sandra’s” leaving do and a few of them had gone on to Whistle Binkie’s. A guy called Sam Barber was playing an accoustic set which was going down really well and although Lucas had only sunk a couple of pints, he was beginning to feel courageous.
Jenny from Accounts had a low-cut top on and looked totally different than she did at work. For a start her hair was down, Lucas had never seen her with her hair down before.
Her bright red lips seemed to be getting bigger and more inviting as the night wore on and Lucas found himself in a bit of a trance.
Lucas snapped out of it when Sandy came back from the bar with a round of shots, he wouldn’t tell anybody what it was, which meant it was probably something stupidly potent.
Scared not to show himself up, Lucas downed his shot along with everyone else and the next thing he knew he was kissing Jenny and his colleagues had all disappeared.
The lively chatter and sound of Sam Barber’s guitar faded into the distance as Lucas and Jenny stumbled out onto the cold wet cobbles on Niddry Street locked arm in arm.
Lucas being the gentleman he was ran ahead to the bottom of the street to see if he could hail a taxi while Jenny huddled from the icy drizzle in a darkened doorway nearby.
After a few nerve-jangling minutes, Lucas got a cab but Jenny didn’t come to join him. He got back out and told the driver to wait a minute.
When he went back up Niddry Street to the doorway where’d he left her he saw an old man doubled over with an outstretched cap. Lucas asked him if he’d seen the girl who’d been standing there but he just pushed his cap out further towards Lucas.
Lucas swore and gave the guy 50p as he heard the taxi drive off behind him.
The old tramp in the alcove in front of him then said “Feel the drink son, it’s great isn’t it? but it’s working in your blood, which you know is not the same as love, love is only in your mind and not your heart.”
When Lucas woke up in his flat later that day, he had no recollection of Jenny and picked up the jobs section of the local paper, being on the dole for the last 4 years was taking its toll.
Posted in Fiction
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