Time Spent

Secreted away in a dimly lit corner of the Heart and Hound; a man and woman share repurposed church pews nestled around a worn table. Tall pew sides and low ceilings provide sanctuary from the persistent din of the outside world.

“I was surprised you agreed to meet.”

“I was surprised to get your message, Kathy.”

She shifts in her seat, “After I heard about his death, I—”

“Yeah. A lot of people contacted me at first. That died down, eventually.” He takes a deep breath. “Sorry it took so long.”

“I wanted to give you time, John.”

“I loved him.”

“We all did.”

“No, the same way I loved you.” The words strike like a bolt, “Teenager stuff, ya know. Feels profound, but really, you don’t have the tools to understand. He looked up to me. Asked me how to dress ‘cool’. As if I ever was.”

“You did alright.”

“I never said, but I used to have fantasies about us three living together.” John gathers strength and locks eyes. The sweet, earthy scent of ginger announces a waitress, who places two beaten-copper cups between them. They give thanks in stumbled-unison and are alone again, sheltered in the momentary silence and weathered wood.

“Remember his dog?”

“The Black lab? I don’t remember its name.”

“Her name.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t either.” John fidgets with condensation on the cup. “Whenever he had a problem, he’d lay in bed with her and talk it through. Said that she was always there for him. I think that loyalty kept him level.”

“She died, though?”

“Yeah.”

Kathy shakes her head. The movement is subtle, as if a tense emotion is trying to escape and she shakes to keep it in. John proffers his cup. They raise their cups to an unspoken toast.

“The night it happened, he called me around midnight bawling his eyes out. I’d never heard him cry before and bam, I was sneaking out the bathroom window and running to his.”

“At midnight? He lived near me, John, that’s miles!”

“A familiar journey.” Katherine’s mouth curls up. “We sat on a red-bricked wall down an alley near his, and I listened. He talked until dawn. Well, until his dad came upon us on his way back from work and wrangled him home.”

“Was he angry?”

“At first. He understood, eventually. The frustration fell away... somewhat.”

“Only somewhat?”

“You know how it is with kids.”

“Yeah. Still, it was kind of you.”

“Oh, it wasn’t altruism. I’m not a good person. I just wanted to be the one who was there for him. I wanted to be—” John’s voice cracks and Kathy reaches out to squeeze his hand, “He loved that dog.”

They sit for a beat, the slow silence forces their attention to the warmth of their hands. Kathy gently rubs her thumb over John’s knuckle, then freezes. John’s thumb twitches and they quickly return to their drinks. The clinking of ice and beaten metal chases away the silence.

“Why did you two stop hanging out?”

John blows out his cheeks.

“Sorry, Wanna keep it light?”

“Nah,” a sip punctuates the point, “Do you remember the poem ‘I am very bothered’?”

“No, sorry.”

“Armitage? School?” He asks. Her response is a blank stare. “Doesn’t matter. In the poem, he symbolises his affections for a girl by burning a ring into her hand. And, well, I didn’t know how to express myself back then.”

“John, you didn’t?”

“I know. It’s weird. He didn’t understand. Even less so than the kid in the poem. The school nurse treated his burn and he pretty much avoided me after that. He made a better friend.”

“Stan. Those two were inseparab—” Kathy pauses as John tables his cup a little too hard. She cocks her head low, looks up into his downcast eyes and softens her voice, “Sorry, John. I didn’t think. I—”

“You apologise too much.”

“Now, if I apologise, it’ll make matters worse.” They erupt in awkward fake laughter and share a glance that lets them see the truth. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide it.” The laughter subdues. “Did you ever tell him?”

“Ha! If only I could.”

“Oh my God, you remember Aqua?”

“’Turn back time’? First CD I ever bought.”

“I thought you preferred Barbie Girl.”

“No, but in truth, I like it.”

“Oh, John.”

“Pretend you don’t.”

“We’re hiding again.”

“If only I had said, would I still hide?”

“Insufferable.”

“Hint taken. I don’t think he knew it was a rejection, but I’m still jealous of Stan. Well, envious.”

“That I understand.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was always envious of you two.”

“Really?!”

“Yes! You were always together.”

“Oh, he spent most of that time talking about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He was besotted, but you always seemed to have someone. It’s why he struggled to talk to you at times,” John lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, “and it’s partly why I hadn’t answered your messages.”

“Our friendship... This... it’s complicated, John.”

“Always was.”

They finish drinking before the ice has a chance to melt and order two more.