A Friend.(Stephen Pearmine) A new short story.

When she first arrived in the small village, a lot of the locals took a dislike to her straightaway, which wasn't surprising. Recently she'd been diagnosed with depression and anxiety and, even though her condition wasn't her fault, the excessive drinking of alcohol didn't help matters. Her name was Cheryl, she was only 24, a whole life ahead of her, or that's how it seemed to many that observed her actions. Why was she chucking it all away, boozing all the time, leaving empty cans and bottles everywhere without getting rid of them properly? When she was drunk she'd rant and rave at anyone nearby, which made people feel uncomfortable. Over the next few months, Cheryl got on everyone's nerves to the point where people crossed the road, so they didn't have to speak to her.

One day, she half stumbled into the local pub where the Landlord looked up from his newspaper and the moment he saw her, disappointment was felt.
  "What would you like, Cheryl?" he asked, knowing she always drank the same drink, so it seemed pointless really.
  Cheryl laughed out of nervousness, then replied, "Could I have a strong lager, Gavin, mate."
  He poured her a pint and, as he'd expected, she put it on her tab. What annoyed him the most was, she was a young girl with so much going for her, and even though he was aware of her troubles, she didn't help herself by boozing all the time. "Haven't you got any interests, Cheryl? Why spend all your time here?"
  She looked at him dumbfounded. "What do you mean, mate?"
  Gavin was tiring of this now, nothing ever changed with her. "It doesn't matter. Forget I ever said anything." He made his way to the other side of the bar to carry on reading his paper.
  There was no one else in the pub. Well, it was only midday. Cheryl walked to her favorite chair by the fireplace, then sat down, taking a nice mouthful of cold lager. Lovely, she thought.
  Half an hour later, she was still sitting on her own, the pub still empty apart from one customer in the other bar who chatted and laughed with the Landlord. Slowly her mood darkened. Maybe it was her condition that made this happen, or maybe it was something else? Cheryl decided to leave and get some beers from the local shop, cheaper anyway. She got up and, with the empty glass, stumbled more so to the bar, put the glass down clumsily, then said loudly, "See you tomorrow, Gavin."
  There was no reply.
  
 ...................

  Cheryl was now at her favorite spot, sitting on a bench where there was a little woodland nearby and next to that were three bungalows occupied by elderly people. She downed one can, then threw it on the ground. 
  A voice behind her suddenly said, "What do you think you're doing, littering the place? You sit here every day and when you leave there's always cans and bottles everywhere."
  Cheryl looked in the direction of this man. By his side was a dog. She couldn't think of much to say and just said, embarrassed, "Sorry, mister."  
  The man who was easily in his sixties looked her up and down, before saying, "What's your name?"
  She laughed nervously, then answered, "My name's Cheryl."
  He walked to the bench and sat beside her. The dog sniffed her shoes. "Why do you drink yourself silly every day? You're still a young woman, such a waste."
  She shrugged her shoulders.
  He reached out his hand to her. "My name's Arthur. It's really nice to meet you."
  Cheryl shook his hand and giggled. "Same here," she replied.
  He gave her a smile, then stood up. "I must be off, my wife will be wondering where I got to. See you another time, hopefully. "
  She watched him with interest, within a few seconds he'd disappeared from view. She decided to open another can of beer and enjoy her surroundings. It was so peaceful there. The warm breeze and the rustling of leaves from close by caused her to doze off for only a minute. It was time to go home. Without giving it much thought, Cheryl picked up the can she'd thrown on the ground earlier and, with the other can she'd just finished, walked to a bin at the end of the pathway and dropped both in. She then started the journey home.

...................

  Like the same every day, she popped into the pub, had a pint on her own by the fireplace. As usual, the place was quiet. In the shop she bought four cans of beer and went to the bench to drink them. While Cheryl sat there, she thought of the man from yesterday who'd been kind to her. She wasn't used to it. She'd spend most of her days in her own company, but sometimes someone else to talk to would be nice. After finishing the cans, she put them back into the carrier bag, then made her way to the bin. "I was hoping to see you again," she said sadly. She dropped them in, before making the trip home.

 ...................

  The next day and the day after, she did the same routine she always did. He was nowhere to be seen. It made her feel sad, because he seemed genuinely nice.
  In the evenings she'd drink more beer and watch TV and occasionally head to the pub where she'd sit on her own as no one wanted to talk to her. Maybe her appearance put people off, she was a bit overweight and would say stupid things when agitated.i0

  On the third day, he appeared with his dog and, with a smile, said, "Hello, Cheryl. I hope you're well."
  She couldn't believe it and waved at him.
  "I hope you haven't been littering the place while I haven't been here keeping an eye on you."
  Cheryl was a little nervous. She'd never had a proper friend before. "No, I haven't. I've been behaving myself, Arthur."
  He laughed, the dog ran about his feet. "That's good to hear. I would chat, but my wife would be wondering where I'd got to. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, Cheryl."
  "It's a date," was all she answered whilst giggling.
  Cheryl watched him like the other day, but decided to follow him before she lost sight of him again. She didn't want to freak him out, so she was careful not to be seen. Amazingly, he lived in the same direction as her. Within ten minutes it became apparent that he actually lived in the same close, seven doors from her. How come she'd never seen him before apart from being on the bench?

...................

  The next day, when Cheryl had grown enough courage, she knocked at Arthur's front door. It was ten in the morning, so it wasn't too early. From the hallway she heard some movement and a dog barking, followed by a figure approaching the entrance. The door opened, and the man stared at her, then said surprised, "What are you doing here, Cheryl, are you stalking me?"
  She nervously giggled and replied, "I didn't realise it until yesterday, but I live in the same area, 7 doors away. I hope you don't mind me calling round?"
  A smile came over his face. "Please, come in. Would you like a cup of tea?"
  "Yes, please," was all she replied, then followed him down the hallway into the living room. Once she'd sat down, she asked, "If you'd like me to leave before your wife comes home, as I noticed she's not here, that'd be fine, as every time we meet you're always hurrying to get back to her?" 
  Arthur didn't answer her and a sadness was seen in his eyes. He made his way into the kitchen to make the tea. A short while later, he appeared in the doorway holding two steaming cups. He carefully placed them on the little table in front of Cheryl, and helped himself to one.
  She took a sip. It was nice.
  Arthur copied. He put the cup down, then said emotionally, "My wife's ashes are in that urn up there on the shelf. It sounds ridiculous, but I talk to her every day like clockwork after I've walked Jasper, like she's still there. Without her, I'd be so lost, if that makes any sense. I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth."
  Cheryl put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Arthur. I shouldn't have come round really. If you'd like me to leave, I will."
  He looked at her kindly. "No, please stay. It's nice to talk to someone else for a change." He had another sip of tea and so did she.

.....................

  With Arthur's help, she started drinking less alcohol. She spent a lot of time around his house where they'd talk and play card games, also watching old western films that he liked. For the first time in ages, Cheryl's anxiety had improved. A month later, they had the routine of eating breakfast together, then taking Jasper for a lengthy walk, which was great exercise for both of them. After a while, Cheryl noticed she was losing a bit of weight and her confidence grew ten folds. In time, she got a job with the local shop and started to make new friends. The old Cheryl that every one disliked was now becoming an old memory, replaced now by a more positive one, and it's all thanks to Arthur, the best friend she'd ever had.

The End.
  

  

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