Chapter 7 VII

CHAPTER 7

What happened over the next few weeks clouds over in my mind. I only know that I slept little, started drinking and suffered anxiety attacks. I thought the office would be more understanding, but they were not. I had bitten more than I could chew and colleagues complained about my performance.

I was fired, to put it simply. I felt worthless and guilty for having to tell my parents that I could no longer send them money. My father told me that he'd found a new position and I shouldn't worry, but that didn't solve anything. I couldn't see myself getting ahead, I had to pass all my subjects and I'd started drinking heavily. At first, I would only go to the bar as soon as I'd finished my homework with Roy.

'Can you tell me where you're going?' Beth would ask. Now I was no longer bothered by her temper, as I knew it was caused by her insecurity.

'I'm going for a walk around town. I love Dublin.

Soon it stopped working. I was getting drunker and drunker, but I was surviving and on a daily basis I only drank a few pints. On weekends I would go into the bar by myself and drown my sorrows in alcohol. I used to write short poems, stories and reviews that appeared in the university magazine under the pseudonym Steven Gawain. Until, almost at the end of the semester, Mr. Burns, one of my professors, read some of my texts, ignoring their authorship, as an example of contemporary trends.

In the exam of his subject the professor asked about an author I didn't remember and my results were not as expected. When the grades came out, I saw on the board that I had failed. With that balance I could not validate my studies in London, but at least I would escape from that hell. However, my tenacity made me go to Mr. Burns' office to make a claim.

'And why should I change my mind?' he said, folding his arms.

'I am Steven Gawain.

'Are you kidding?'I laughed.

'No, I am not. I sent those texts by email, and here's the proof,' I replied showing him my cell phone.

He remained silent for a while before replying.

'Your work on the magazine is very good, but what you answered on the test is insufficient.'

'I was going through a bad time and under a lot of stress.'

'Come on, Anna, do you think I haven't heard all those rumors going around? There's talk about your sexual preferences, that you spend all day at the bar, and that you're pretty lost.'

'And is that important?'

Burns frowned.

'It should be to you. After all, it's up to me to approve or fail you, but if I may give you some advice, don't give up on your dreams and don't depend on others' affection.'

'May I know who is spreading these rumors about me?

'They are circulating, Anna, and it saddens me that they are.'

"'Erika,' I thought. But I no longer cared.

I passed without honors, but Burns offered me a job in the creative writing courses as a college teaching assistant.

'But that's not fair,' I said, 'I had failed and you passed me.'

'I've taken into account your background and knowledge.'

I had the opportunity in front of me - should I take it? After sleeping on it and getting my parents' permission, which I kept asking for even though I was twenty, I decided to take the plunge. I would study there for one more year and come back with my homework done.

How easy things were in theory. The summer left me with too much time on my hands and, every time I saw Jack at home, I felt miserable. I hit the bottle until I barely had enough money to pay for it. If things continued like this, I wasn't going to make it safely to the end of September to start the project. I often came home in the wee hours of the morning, staggering, and Mr. Radcliffe's complaints were not long in coming. Roy no longer needed school support, as the family was going to spend part of the summer in Bath and the rest on the coast of the Italian Riviera. And then came the words I had been dreading:

'We can't renew your contract, Anna. We've forgiven you for not doing your job in my sister-in-law's office, but we don't think you're the right person for this.

I didn't complain. On the street, for the second time. The eternal return. It all seemed like a bad dream. Even though I was sleeping among cardboard, it was hard to assimilate that I was sleeping on the street. I had no friends, except for an old man with a beard who had also been kicked out of his house and with whom I sometimes shared leftover food and bottles. I moved from Grafton Street, which seemed too central, to a more secluded and green area. I was ashamed of myself. Sometimes we were joined by Rachel, a drug addict woman, who looked pretty bad but sometimes got cash for groceries, because she was walking all over town with a friend who was missing an arm and people felt sorry for them.

Old Bill and I would beg too, but our take was much smaller. By the end of September, I wasn't ready to start teaching, so I didn't show up. My cell phone broke down and I couldn't reach my parents, who I had to contact from a pay phone.

'Hi. How are you doing, sweetheart?', my mom asked me.

'Fine, as usual. I keep on working and studying, so I juggle with both', I lied.

They believed me and didn't need the money any more, but I felt terrible.

'Maybe if I'm here is because I deserve it', I told Rachel one night we were drinking in the tent she'd brought.

'No, never say that. You're strong and will get by', she would answer.