I woke early on another lonely Boxing Day. Having to meet a friend on the opposite side of my hometown I decide to go strolling, hours before I needed to. I kicked around town in the snow, seeing no sign of life. Then, choosing to re-visit some of my old haunts I beat a winding route through the suburbs and sub-suburbs of town. With no music, my mind was free to actually think, contemplate and reminisce, and I revelled in every second of it.
Taking Doc’s Alleyway I called in on Alex, but he was still asleep. “Whadda want?” he said, “I’m sleeping man.” That was a funny way to greet an old friend. No-one is awake this early around Christmas, as it’s a rare and deserved time off. Having no job meant every day belonged to me, and I could do with each day as I pleased. Christmas was no different, it was just another day off. No-one wanted to trudge around in the snow all day either, except me, and I was walking round on a nostalgia trip. The more I walked, the more every tiny detail reminded me of you. I was wishing back both you and our youth.
I cut up through the Churchyard and over the tiny little park where we first met. You were wearing a green paisley blouse. That colour burnt an impression into the back of my mind forever. I passed the bench where we met to talk about your friends when they’d let you down and you needed a shoulder. It was on these pavements that we walked and talked, flirting the whole way, with me trying to catch your eye and a smile as often as possible. I remember you when you still had your braces. I always wanted to kiss you to see what it was like, but we never did. Why was that? What happened? What went wrong?
Aside from relationships, and trying to win girls over, things seemed easier then. None of us had need for money. But we worked bad jobs anyway, cursing and hating our way through them one after another. I visited you once at your garden centre gig, and we talked about the plants as we walked around. I spent the rest of the day alone, thinking about it in the corner of the park.
I walked up the alleyway behind the Co-op, past the allotments and into another park. There wass still no-one out but me, and I thought it was tradition to go walking on Boxing Day. The memories the pavement and park hold stack up and up in front of me as I strolled over them for the first time in years. My feet felt hot with life, a warm feeling of de ja vu despite the snow. The park was blanketed by white, except some small glimmers of lush green grass poking through. I paused for a smoke.
I passed along your road and contemplated calling in at your old place, presuming you’ll still be there, but wisely decided against it. I doubt you want to walk around with me like we used to. This regime of paranoia we’re living under has probably got to you too. It’s much safer to stay home, wherever you are. I wondered what you were really like back then, as I can now see that we hardly knew each other. I don’t even know what you did with your time. You didn’t play music, or write, or paint. I can’t even recall what music you did like. You were only a socialite. Now, that seems lame. At the time I didn’t think twice about it.
All that waiting, and thinking it over, and not acting added up to more than one broken heart. I think you broke mine for two, or three. I told no-one, not even you. I kept it all quiet and hidden, and for what? How awkward would it have been to say it – let those warm words get tangled and spew out? Let go for once. Let loose. Silence is deadly – and it leaves a long, dark and all-encompassing shadow over everything after the silence. Are you happy I wonder or do you feel lonesome too?
I scratched through the suburbs. A never-ending wriggle of semi-detached houses guided my way as if I was watching the North Star for my bearings. We were always talking about leaving town, and doing this and that. Recently I heard you were leaving the country. I wish you the best. You evidently continue to be more daring and go-getting than I’ll ever be. We were two opposites in temperament. You were loud, daring, light-hearted and full of life. I was cold, quiet and shy. The confidence I lacked you made unimportant because your personality rubbed-off on people. You warmed people up.
By now, I was starving and headed to the Supermarket Cafe for a cheap fix. I hadn’t been there for years either. The young punk behind the counter cursed his boss as he took my order and offered endless cups of free tea. Those knowing nods and these old shirts do have their perks. I pulled up a chair, rested my feet on another and caught up on some writing, in which you featured heavily. I spend the whole year without you on my mind, then we meet again and I spend ages trying to forget you. Hanging around our old stomping ground doesn’t help things, it only inflames them.
I used to see you every day and looked forward to it. I was keen to talk to you, but with intentions. Now I see you once a year, on Christmas Eve, hence why you’re on my mind. We used to walk these streets together, passing smokes back and forth as we passed through every alleyway on your side of town. We were always searching, seeking, rambling. What changed? Did we grow older? I’m sure I blinked and ended up here. As much as I want to feel the same it’s different without you to think about each day. ‘Out of sight, out of mind,’ the saying goes.
I checked my watch and needed to leave quickly, so sunk another tea and rolled a smoke before I hit the road. I made my way over the car park and into the woods. There, even the trees reminded me of you. I can still see you dangling from a branch screaming my name. “Henry, Henry! Help!” With you hanging there, I paused for a moment out of your view, and smiled at the situation. Here I was; comfortable with both feet planted firmly on the ground and you, suspended from a tree, with your blue jeans all muddy and chewed up at the bottom and your white Beatles shirt pulled up a little showing your stomach. I laugh a little at the thought of it; two teenagers driving each other insane and not admitting it, but feeding off it. At least, that’s how I saw it.
Walking further out of town, and further away from anything reminding me of you, I kept an eye on the time. I was still meeting my lift at half eleven and had to make it. I kept on my toes. Turning the corner into the village square I watched my lift arrive at the exact time we’d agreed. An amazing feat. I threw my backpack in the backdoor and got in the front. A cushioned seat had never felt so good.
At the last set of lights before the open road and open countryside we pulled up for what seemed like an eternity. As soon as we stopped I recognised the opening brass section of a Beatles tune coming from the car behind, cranked up really high. They stayed behind as we made way down the first stretch of dual-carriageway, then, as the chorus kicked in, they overtook us. The music was crystal clear, or seemed it, despite the hum of the tyres. Everything had become surprisingly inaudible, but the music.
“All you need is love. All you need is love. All you need is love, love, love is all you need.”
Talk about hammering away at one point! I did what one tends to do, and applied the lyrics to how I was thinking and how I was feeling at that moment. No one song could have been more fitting for a whole morning affected by our once-yearly meeting. Those damn Beatles.
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