Limbo

I haven’t been to college all week. Partly because of what happened last Saturday but mostly because of Marz, who’s been in bed since Sunday, tired out and throwing up. She’s gone a yellowish colour too, as if she’s got jaundice, but she says that’s just because she hasn’t used the fake tan since last Friday. She won’t let me call the quack either, says all she needs is a few days rest. I’ve been googling on and off all week, trying to find out what could be wrong. The best bet seems to be cirrhosis of the liver and the stuff I read scared me shitless – she could have as little as five years left if she doesn’t stop drinking. I wrote some of it out and went and read it to her – sat well away in case she went ballistic, but she just shut her eyes and said what difference did it make as we’re all going to die in the end and it might just as well be sooner as later and she couldn’t get through without the booze, and besides, did I expect her to chuck away all the drinks customers insisted on buying her? There’s no reasoning with Marz, so I left her to it, but I’m worried, as it seems worse this time.

Old Stuff was okay, although I was like Lee & Perrings on a hotplate all day waiting to see if Calla would come in and eyeball me. I got the mobile out as Jo locked up, walked down the road to the corner with her, but there was no sign of Calla and her butch friend. I dragged past Andy’s flat half-tempted to ring his bell but decided against it. There’s Danny in that place and what the hell am I thinking of? But it’d be nice to see him again all the same.

Marz seemed a bit better when I got back – actually ate half a slice of toast with baked beans. Maybe I’ll be able to get back to college on Monday.