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| CATCHING UP ON OLD TIMES by Sky Babies Friday nights at mum’s are always the same. Dinner at 6 and then down to Asda for the weekly shop. She tends to go late, more bargains to be found after 8 and the aisles are jam packed with suitable singles. I’m almost 30 and by now, she thinks, I should be married off. I grew up in small town Wales, where everyone knows everyone else’s business. I can’t stand it, hence my decision to move away years back. I had no real friends there, always being the outcast in ripped denim and listening to whatever was deemed ‘uncool’ by my contemporaries. There were a few…not real friends, older guys, a couple of whom lived on my mum’s street. We played together when we were young, doctors and nurses in the back yard. Since we grew up we had become distant and one of them in particular saw me more as an annoyance than anything else, always wanting to hang about with them when they were destined for better things. Besides, who wants a 14 year old girl latching on when you have all of the local beauties falling at your feet? For the past six years I have travelled the world teaching in exotic places and not thinking too much about home or anyone. Mum would email frequently with updates as to how my old ‘friends’ were doing, and that was pretty well by all accounts. The older guys were in a band and reaching great heights back there. I was pleased for them but didn’t think that really compared to my life sipping cocktails on the beach and meeting new, fantastic people. Still, what makes you happy. Grocery shopping is always a drag, especially when your mum tries to haggle down the price of a joint of beef for Sunday lunch. Ahhh, Sunday lunch and back to London where I’ve decided to settle. I decided to leave her harass a scared looking pimply 16 year old shelf stacker and make my way down to the wine section. A nice bottle of Merlot should do the trick. I peruse the shelf looking for a divine bottle of French red I feel eyes scanning me. I try to ignore it and busy myself reading the labels. There’s a tap on my shoulder. “Hello stranger, it’s been a while.” I know that voice. I turn around. “I saw your mam and she said you’d more than likely be around here. Fuck, was she giving some kid grief!” I laugh, “Just as normal. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a long old time. Must be about...” “Eight years” he interrupts. “You’re looking well…considering.” “Considering what?” I ask defensively. “Considering you’ve spent so much time in the presence of ‘them pesky kids’, can’t say I envy you.” “It’s not all bad you know.” I say with a smile, which he reciprocates. “So, what you doing now?” He asks. “Shopping, what does it look like?” I quip in response. He laughs “I mean in life, what you doing and where you living? You here for a stop gap before you head off to some other hot place?” “Same job, just in London. You know the Welsh blood and warm weather are not compatible for long. Besides, all the sun was turning my naturally blue sin golden and I can’t be doing with that.” “Yeah,” he smirks “we can’t be doing with that, can we?!” Before we can continue my mother comes hurtling towards us grinning. “Jeeze, steady on with that thing woman!” He winks at her. “See you haven’t changed much, you cheeky sod” she retorts. “Glad you found her James, she’s a bugger when it comes to wine. I blame all that time living the good life.” “Yeah, fucking fantastic” I mutter. “Mind your language, young lady or I’ll tell your father.” She banters. “And I see you two are still the same, always bickering over something.” He laughs. “Anyhow, we’d best get on. Don’t want you to miss out on the cheap cakes mum.” I say, trying desperately to get out of this awkward situation. He smiles slightly. “Well, maybe we could catch up some other time. London’s great but sometimes you just need to touch base with someone familiar.” He takes some paper and a biro out of his pocket and starts to write down his number. He thrusts it into my hand and I begin to walk away. “By the way, what’s yours?” Mum shouts it back over her shoulder and I give her the look of death. She seems oblivious. As we turn the corner I say, through gritted teeth “I could bloody kill you sometimes!” “Shut up, he’s only trying to be friendly.” She snaps. Three weeks pass by. I am totally submerged in lesson planning and assessments. I could do with a break. Christmas is just around the corner and I know that doing the work now will free up some time to enjoy the festivities. He hasn’t called. I didn’t expect him to. I haven’t called him, I’m not sure if I want to go back to that place in time again. I busy myself with work and new friends but everywhere I turn I am reminded of him. The alarm wakes me playing one of their songs, I see his face on the front of every magazine, there’s posters for their new album in every tube station. It is as though he’s popped back into my life with little invitation. I feel 17 again and hopeless. He tolerated me then, but why should he do it now? We had grown apart years ago and there’s no reason to go back over painful past grounds. Saturday, 8pm and I’m sitting in my lounge watching Casablanca with a bottle of Carmenere on the go. As Bogart requests Sam to ‘Play it again’ there is a buzz on the intercom. Irritated I let out a ‘Grrr’ and pause the DVD. Really not amused, this is my only free night before I gruelling final week where kids run riot in anticipation of the holiday. I get up to answer. “Yeah?” “Hi, sorry, it’s me” the voice says, “can I come up for a bit?” I sigh “Sure. Just push the door when you hear the buzz.” I open my front door and hear the footsteps on the stairwell. I’m standing there in less than flattering get up, a faded old t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, my usual relaxation gear. Finally he reaches me. He is visibly upset about something. “Sorry,” he says “just needed someone familiar to talk to, these sycophantic bastards up here will just tell me what I want to hear. You’ll tell me straight. Your mam gave me your address. If it’s a bad time I’ll go.” “Don’t be so daft,” I say. “Come in.” He follows me into the flat and closes the door behind. “Welcome to the world of a single girl on a Saturday night. If I knew I was going to have company I’d have made more of an effort.” “You look fine,” he says. “Could do with a drink though, if your offering.” He plonks himself on the sofa. “Got the wine open if you fancy.” “Anything stronger, I could do with it?” “There’s a bottle of single malt in the cupboard I was saving for a special occasion, which I guess this is.” I shout from the kitchen, reaching into the back of my booze hide-hole and grabbing a glass. “Thanks.” He mutters as I hand it to him. “So, you going to tell me what this is all about?” I ask, curling into my armchair. “Ahhh, another huge fight with my woman. It’s been shaky for a while but I think it’s blown to fucking bits now.” He mourns into his glass. “Just not happy anymore with thing. I don’t think she can handle the attention I get and it has driven a huge wedge between us. We fight all the time and I’m thinking what’s the point in it all?” He continues to list the disagreements they have had recently, how he is feeling and ponders on what to do. I listen intently, offering a nod here and there. “Do you love her?” I ask when he finally is done. “Thing is I really don’t know. No, I don’t think so, not in the way I’m meant to…not in the whole hearts and flowers way. We were great friends first and I’m beginning to think that I am with her because, well, she was there and interested. Everyone else I know is happily settling down and I thought it was about time I did the same.” “Well,” I offer “I’m no psychologist but I would say you’re not really together for the right reasons.” He glares at me, “but that is just my opinion, based on what you have said.” “You know,” he responds “I thought it could be right. I could make it right in time, but time has come and gone, and we’re in this mess. I dunno.” “Not having been in that position, I can’t answer. My relationships have failed for other reasons and I’ve never been in anything serious.” I offer, topping up my glass. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be laying this on you. It’s been years since I’ve seen you and I treated you like a dick for a long time.” He drains his glass. “Maybe it is best if I leave.” “No, it’s okay.” I say putting my hand on his arm tenderly. “We were mates once and as any friend, past or present should, I’m here for you if you want to talk. Besides, I was an annoying little fuck and you had every right to brush me off. You were older, doing things, and I used to hang around trying not to feel like such a no-hoper.” “That you never were. Well, you could be annoying” he laughs for the first time, “but you always listened if I was feeling like crap.” “Good to hear I serve a purpose.” I stick my tongue out and refill his glass. “So, how come you haven’t been snapped up by now?” “Too damn busy I guess. That and the fact I tend to date arseholes.” I say matter of factly. “You always did. I forget the number of wankers I had to have a quite word with. Bet you didn’t know that.” He says lighting up and offering me one. I inhale deeply. “So that explains why they all went running. But why did you feel the need to do that for me?” “Well, we grew up together, and you had no brothers or sisters to look out for you.” He smirks, “That and the fact your mam was always around ours bending ears about the latest idiot you came home with. I felt I had to for a quite life. She always used to say ‘You will look out for her, won’t you’. I guess I owed it to her.” “And she’s still interfering.” I giggle. “This time it’s in trying to find me a man. Like I have nothing better to do.” “Don’t you get lonely?” He questions. “Sometimes. Maybe I try to fill my life with other things so as not to focus on it.” He begins to blow smoke rings and chuckles. “You always used to try doing that but could never manage, it was funny as fuck. Give it a go for me.” “Haha, just to be an object for your amusement again, no way!” I laugh. “I remember catching you smoking in the behind the library one night, do you remember?” “Of course I do. I begged you not to tell my mum but you went straight around there and told her everything.” “I was only thinking of you.” He winks, “It’s bad for your health.” “It fucking was too. I got a right hiding when I got in and had to throw all my fags down the toilet. I wasn’t impressed…and it didn’t stop me, it just taught me to be more careful and to trust no one.” I grin. “Catching you drunk was the funniest. You with your head almost stuck down the drain outside your house when your parents were away for the weekend.” “You got your mum out of bed to take me in. She wasn’t happy but said it was a lesson to be learned. She never said a word.” I say semi-accusingly. “My mam adored you. She used to say how good you were.” He says with a far away look in his eye. “And I thought she was wonderful, always used to stick up for me when my mother was having a go. She took me to Cardiff to get my belly button pierced when I was 16. My mum went mental but yours just said it’s part of growing up and to remember what they used to get up to at that age.” He laughs, “Oh god, the stories of what they used to get up to. Classic.” I drain my glass. There’s no more wine left in the bottle. He picks up the whisky and gestures his head towards it. “You joining me?” I smile “Why the hell not.” I venture into the kitchen to sort out a glass and a few snacks from my rather barren cupboards. Didn’t stick to mum’s Friday routine and now I wish I had. There’s nothing worse than being a hostess with little to offer a guest. As I fill bowls with nuts and staling crisps I hear him moving about in the lounge. “Mind if I put some tunes on?” he calls. “Sure, if you like.” I answer. “I didn’t realise you were still into punk and heavy shit.” He says, putting the Misfits on. “Yeah” I say, entering the room, hands full. “By day mild mannered English teacher, by night Souxie wanna-be.” “Nothing wrong with that, she was kind of cute.” He grins. “So, you coming to sit next to me or what?” “I guess it makes nibbles sharing easier.” I utter and he smiles. “Interesting selection of books you have too. Hope you don’t mind but I glanced at your bookshelves.” “Not at all.” I say. “You can usually make a good estimation of a person by what they read, but you…I’m confused. You range from Camus to deep theology, from classics to throw away fiction and beyond.” “Yeah, well it keeps me interesting I guess.” I offer, reaching for the bottle on the table. He picks up a copy of ‘When the wind blows’ which is laying on the floor. “This is depressing shit. Two old people waiting to die after the bomb drops, hoping for salvation.” “For some reason always my favourite book. Nothing to make you feel better than a bit of futility.” “You always were obsessed by nuclear fear.” He says. “I remember as a kid you’d spend hours drawing fallout shelters. We thought you were weird then.” “At that time I thought it was realistic. A girl never can be too careful you know.” I smirk. “So, if you know the bomb were to drop within hours and you weren’t prepared, what would you do?” He asks. Easily I answer “Everything I would normally regret.” He moves a little closer, gazing into my eyes “Such as…?” “Well, for one I’d get naked and run around Oxford Circus station.” He laughs “Anything else?” “Yeah, I’d make peace with the past…and then gloat that I was right.” I say distantly. He gazes at me intently, which makes me blush and turn away slightly. “What about you?” I ask, “What would you do?” “Me, I’d go to the top of Primrose Hill and look out over the city, thinking what a shame it would be that no future generation would see its magnificence.” “Nice” I say. He leans closer to me, “And maybe try to do some things I should have done long ago.” Slowly he presses his lips against mine and I let out a sigh. His lips are soft. Momentarily he breaks away and then returns to kiss me with some urgency. For a moment I am taken up in a world of bliss but reality kicks is and I break away. He looks disappointed. “Sorry, it’s not right.” I murmur, confused. “I don’t want to be a rebound.” He sits back into the sofa. “My fault” he says, dejected “would it help if I said it weren’t a rebound thing? Because as far as I’m concerned, it’s not.” “You’ve just had a fight with your other half. Please don’t get things mixed up. Regardless of what you said I can’t be part of this.” I sip my malt and he sighs. “I didn’t mind before, when you kissed me to get back at that dick who gave you the run around.” He mutters. “That was different” I retort. “How?” he spits. “Fuck, I was a kid, things weren’t serious.” I grab his hand “This is you now, into something serious which you need to think about before you do something that could affect everything you have.” “I don’t love her, I don’t want her. It’s been over for months and we’ve both been to scared to say so. We both know it.” He looks sorrowful. “I know I should not have done it, but…” “But what?” “Did you want me to do that? Did you want me to kiss you?” He searches deep into my eyes. I cannot hold his gaze. “Look at me.” He says softly, cupping my face and turning me to face him. “Please…” I implore him. “Answer me, please.” He whispers. “As one old mate to another, one seeking some truth here.” I pull away from him and look down. “No…I mean yes. Fuck I don’t know.” I start to shiver. “Damn, you’re cold.” He says tenderly, putting an arm around my shoulder. “Come here. I promise I’m not going to try anything.” I half smile as we snuggle up together. For the first time in a long while I feel safe, protected. “There,” He says quietly “now isn’t that better.” I nod and rest my head to his chest. He is warm. I listen to his heart-beat, something tells me it’s faster than it should be. We stay like that, in silence for a long time. His breathing starts to change as he drifts off to sleep. I make a move to get up. This semi rouses him “Stay here babe, I’m comfy.” He slurs in a semi sleepy way. I move down and rest my head on his lap and start to drift away. 10 am and I wake with a start. He has gone, leaving an empty glass as a reminder that he was ever here. I get up and walk into the kitchen; I have the vain hope that a decent cup of fresh coffee will clear my head a little. As I approach the sink I notice a piece of paper stuck on one of the cupboard doors. With some apprehension I reach for it and begin to read. “Thanks for last nigh, it helped me get a hell of a lot sorted in my head. I know now what I have and what I’m missing from life. You’ve been the key in helping to unlock a lot I have kept in for too long. I’m going to try and give things another go…” My heart flips. I’m tinged with happiness for his realisation but, somehow sadness for myself. “PTO…Sorry, I ran out of space. I want to give things another go, that is of course if you want me. J.” <<< Miscellaneous |