Chapter 9

Our goodbyes that morning were tearful. Cal in floods of tears at leaving me and even I suffered a little from leaking eyes. I was sorry to be parted from her for two months, but knew that in the long run we’d both benefit from it.

Slowly I walked back next door to our house, opened the door and walked in.

“Did she get off all right?” my Dad asked as I walked in.

I just nodded and headed for my room. Once there I sat on my bed, and for the first time in a long time, picked up my guitar. One chord told me what I should have known anyway, it was horribly out of tune. I tunes the E string quickly by ear, then matched all the other strings until I had a properly tuned instrument. Then I began to play. I started with the theme from The Deerhunter. It was a melancholy tune and matched my mood, from the melancholy start my mood went downhill, until eventually I just put the guitar away and lay back on the bed.

There was a soft knock on my door, and Dad walked in. Dad never walked into my bedroom.

He sat down on the edge of my bed.

“So, son, your girlfriend went away for eight weeks, are you going to spend the next eight weeks locked away up here playing dirges, or are you going to get on with your life as well. You’ve got a week of Julius Caesar coming up, then you’re off to Hollywood for seven weeks.”

“Yes but what if...” I began.

He held his hand up to stop me.

“Son, if you never listen to another piece of advice from me in your life, listen to this one. Do NOT waste your life asking what if? You were about to say what if she meets somebody else in Munich?”

I nodded.

“So, what if you meet somebody else in California?”

“I won’t, I’d never do that to her.”

“Yet you think she might do it to you? Not very sure of her, are you?”

“Well, yes, but.”

“Ah, but, the biggest word in the English language. It’s not her you’re not sure of Son, it’s yourself. Not because you don’t trust yourself not to find someone else, but because you’re not sure enough of yourself to believe that she could possibly be that much in love with you.”

“Son, she’s not the type to do that to anyone, and if she did, you’d be the first person she’d tell, and I hope that if the shoe was on the other foot, she’d be the first you’d tell. But that’s not going to happen son. I don’t often do predictions, but I’ll make one. One day, that young lady will be the mother of at least some of my grandchildren.”

“I wish I was that confident.”

“It’ll come son, it’ll come.”

“When?” I asked.

“And that my son is the question of the ages.”

He left me, at least I was feeling less depressed. I pulled out my Julius Caesar book, and had a quick run through a couple of scenes. I’d just reached the point where Caesar exclaims ‘“Et tu Brute’ and expires when my phone rang. It was Cal letting me know that they’d reached the airport and were in the queue to check in. Her Mum was going with her to Munich, staying overnight to get her settled in to the student hostel she’d be staying in, then flying back Monday afternoon. We spoke for a couple of minutes, told each other we loved the other and then she was gone. I went downstairs to see what the rest of the family was doing.

My brother was out with the girlfriend of the week, Alison was doing her homework Dad was reading the paper and Mum was in the kitchen being Mum.

“Ah, you’ve deigned to join us,” Dad said as I walked in.

“Just heard from Cal, they’re in the queue to check in.”

“Good,” he said, and went back to his paper. I decided that since everybody else was busy with their own things, I’d take a walk down town and see if any of the gang were around in one of our usual haunts. I announced my intention to Dad, who said Ok, then went back to his paper again. The first place I tried was the Blue Cup on Sagar street, but there was no-one there, nor was there anyone in the Tartan Café on Commercial Street. Eventually, I found Mike and Keith in the market hall café not a usual haunt at all.

“Hey guys,” I greeted them, “what’s new?”

“Since we saw you on Friday? Nothing,” Mike answered.

“How are you coping without the other half of you?” Keith asked, jovially.

“She only left this morning, but I’m not happy.”

“And you’re off to California next week, so I’m sure there’ll be plenty of things to do to take your mind off the loneliness.”

“I’ll be there to work, and nothing else,” I objected.

“Nothing touristy on your days off then? No surfer chicks chasing you all over?” Keith asked.

“No, just work, when I’m not at the studio I’ll be learning lines.”

“So where are you staying over there?”

“With my agent, James,” I replied, “he has a flat over his garage that I’ll be living in.”

“I don’t suppose you need a bag carrier?” asked Mike.

“I think you’re about seventeenth in the queue,” I replied.

“So, seriously what are you going to do over there? Apart from becoming a big film star and suddenly getting too good for the rest of us.”

“Never going to happen,” I objected, “when I’m rich and famous, I’ll still just be me. And that’s assuming I do get rich and famous.”

Keith laughed, probably at the idea of any of us getting to be rich and famous.

“More like poor and infamous,” he said.

“Seriously guys, If I get big headed over this, I’m counting on you to bring me back down to earth.”

“You can definitely count on us for that,” Mike promised, “just how are you planning on coping without Cal for two months?”

“Well, I’m going to be pretty busy, so I don’t see a big problem really. We’ll keep in touch by text and email, and I’m going to ring her every Saturday night.”

“Aw, sweet,” said Keith, miming trying to make himself sick by pushing two fingers down his throat.

“Don’t knock it,” Mike said, “you can’t even get a girl to go out with you more than once.”

“That’s not true,” he objected, “there was that girl last year.”

“Yeah, but that was only because she didn’t believe it the first time.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark.”

My phone interrupted us by chirping. The incoming text was from Cal saying that they were on the plane and about to set off.

“Well,” I said, “they’re on the way.”

“How long does it take?” Mike asked.

“About two hours. Cal’s taken the book I bought her for her birthday with her to read.”

“What was it again?”

“La Nilsson. It’s the autobiography of her favourite singer.”

“Harry Nilsson?” Keith asked, “I didn’t know she was into him.”

“No, Birgit, a Swedish Soprano.” Sang a lot of Wagner.”

“So a dead Swede?”

“No she’s still alive in her eighties.”

“Well, whatever turns Cal on,” Keith said.

“And you know David’s never going to tell us what that is,” Mike added.

We all laughed.

“Are you guys planning on going home for lunch?” I asked.

“No we thought we’d get something out, maybe a Wimpy,” Keith answered.

“Why don’t we eat here?” I asked, “I’ll buy.”

The Market hall café is famous for it’s extensive menu. You can have pie and chips, chips and pie and you get a choice of with or without gravy. Mushy peas were mandatory.

“Ok,” Keith agreed with a nod.

“I’m in,” Mike added.

We went to the counter and got our meals, and I paid. It wasn’t expensive I got change from five pounds.

“So apart from Julius Caesar, what’s on for you this week?” Mike asked.

“Apart from school and Julius Caesar nothing. At least I get killed half way through this one, so I’ll have time to do my homework before I have to go back on at the end to take the accolades from my adoring public.”

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Don Carter

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