Days and weeks passed after James died and my house was like a polling station. There was a lot of drinking, replaying and laughing. It was mostly James’ mates that ended up in my living room like it was some sort of shebeen. They came and went but always came back with the sole purpose of licking James off my face.
This turn of phrase sounds disrespectful. I promise it is not meant to be. They loved him so much that they wanted even the crumbs from my table; they would have taken him in any form. And it made me sad, to see their loss. I would have fixed it in a second, if I could, given them a hearty meal rather than the slim pickings they were getting. It was the worst of times but also the best of times. I heard Alex, Tim, Josh and Harry’s stories and cried with laughter with Mungo and Alg. Then Gautom would appear at the front door, usually hammered. Sometimes Tara would show up too because it was 11pm and she hadn’t heard from me since 7. I loved those days. I loved having my face licked.
For Alex K.