Julia and Joe finally went all the way one chilly Friday afternoon in November. They had come back from the pub together to Joe’s now empty flat, his brother having moved to their Grandparents. They had drunk more than they should and they were somewhat in a torpor. One thing led to another and the deed was done, sleep coming quickly to Joe. Julia however, now sober, sat awake staring out the window to roofs and streetlights adjacent. Shadow cloaked her face as she sat.
Joe woke up dazed and confused, patting around to find only soiled bed sheets. He squinted at his phone, blinded by the backlight seeing naught but his cover screen of him and Julia in St James Park on a sunny day that Summer. Hard to remember such a day compared to the pouring rain in the street outside. After performing his morning ablutions he decided to give Julia a call. Surely she just wouldn’t leave without even leaving a note or waking me up right? Maybe she had work?
She answered her phone after four rings, stated that she was busy and she would call him later and then hung up. Somewhat stung by this abrupt response Joe lay back in bed and flicked through youtube. A test flight of Falcon 1? Another failure? What a shame. As he wasted the day away, the waited for call never came. Finally impatient, he texted her, ‘will you call me today at all? Is there something wrong?’
“Nothing’s wrong” she replied, “Just with fam atm will call tomorrow xx”
Joe was no fool so he decided to ring Bob, the sage on relationships especially since the success of his house party. “Just give her time mate, it was a big deal and I''m sure she’s just taking time to process it. Wanna come to Dragon’s roar later? Jonas is putting on a gig and he’s got that new guitarist Tom with him, supposed to be real good.”
“Naa Bobs, I''ll skip ta mate, hanging from yesterday”
“Alright, next time then mate”.
The sun rose on its name day like an emperor of old, and Joe rose with it. After cooking a sumptuous breakfast of bacon and eggs he called Julia. She picked up and they talked about nothing, making no attempt to broach the subject of Friday night. Finally, Joe asked whether she was okay with what they did together or whether it was too soon for her. He shifted in his seat with the question but he had no choice. She answered that it was lovely and she wished she remembered it more as she had drunk too much. Joe laughed and agreed.
“See you at school tomorrow?”
“Yes babe, see you tomorrow, gonna be busy with coursework all day. Kill me aha!’
After the call Joe’s face relaxed and he decided that he also had much course work to complete. Exams and applying to Uni will be on them in no time at all.
—----
The following Friday was Joe’s birthday. He was finally 18 and he was on track to become a young millionaire. His mates had organised a do down at the favourite Dragon’s Roar, still open despite its serving of minors. The landlord was most likely glad one of his regulars was now legal, yet whether he noticed from behind his interminable copies of the Daily Star one would never know.
Julia had turned up in the same green leather leggings she had once worn on their first date and the effect was immediate. She blushed at Joe and his pals ogling and she quickly sat across from Joe, the white silk she had braided into her deep black, almost purple hair swinging like a willow caressing a river.
They sang, they danced, they sang some more. Joe made toasts to his father, toasts to his friend and lastly to his most beautiful girlfriend. Julia’s smile remained, watching Joe almost fondly, yet if one was to look closely one would see a twitch in her eyebrow, almost imperceptible. Bob, always aware however, frowned and looked at Julia closely. She noticed his gaze, smiled again, and then looked away.
The night went on and finally Joe had his limit, too many toasts, too many songs and he was out for the count,
“Help me take him home?” Julia asked Bob.
“Sure love” he laughed donning Joe like a cloak. That’s saying a lot, Joe was no slouch at 6’2” and yet Bob hefted him like a sack of potatoes.
“Rugby” he grunted at Julia’s raised eyrebrow.
They got Joe home and Bob dumped him into his Bed.
“I’m sure he’s got some of his old man’s whiskey still about the old sop. Fancy a nightcap Jules?”
Julia hesitated and then shrugged her shoulders. “Why not?”
—-----
Joe woke up to a pounding headache, a full bladder and a mouth like a camel’s left foot. Staggering to the privy he almost pissed himself right there and then. On his couch, where his parents used to sit, was his best friend stuck like a limpet to his girlfriend. Clothes were not included. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
They had yet to notice and the noises of lovemaking continued. Joe returned stiffly to his room, picked up his laptop and bag, walked past the oblivious couple in the midst of their throes and exited the flat. Outside in the street the remnants of the late night crews were coming home. Joe leant up against a large bin and gave leave to the nausea. As he walked away, no emotion could be seen on his face.
—----
He knew this couch well; this was the couch he would sit at waiting for the 5am cartoons to start. This was the couch where he would eat biscuits and listen to his grandad''s tales of the cavenous mines and the perilous events and that evil ''milk snatcher''. Joe never understood when he was younger why anyone would snatch people’s milk and booed wholeheartedly whenever his grandad brought her up. His grandad was always pleased with this reaction, giving him some sweets that came from his seemingly bottomless pockets. Even now, 10 years later Joe was sure there were sweets in those corduroy trousers. “You don’t like sweeties” he would say as he would ply Darius and Joe with another bag of pear drops or suchlike. “Don’t tell your mother now you two!”
Now he sat on the couch drinking a cup of tea with a digestive in hand. His grandad was reading the paper in his own settee, glasses perched on the end of his nose, perilously close to dropping yet always at the last moment being propped back. His Nan was watching the telly, whilst answering correspondence. Joe was sure his Nan got more mail then the Queen. He reckoned she kept the royal mail in business all on her lonesome.
“Nasty business that. A wrong’uns always a wrong’un mark my words Joe” came the remark from behind the paper.
“Forget about them dear, plenty of fish in the sea and all that. I mean look at your grandad, never in a million years would i have thought i would have spent my life with a dusty old miserly miner like him”
“Mmm nasty business indeed. What did you say about me love?”
“Nothing dear” she winked looking at Joe, eyes crinkling.
Joe couldn’t help but smile. Some things would always be alright, regardless. Still, he stared at the brownish murk that was his tea, and tried to understand how he felt.
He felt that he should feel anger, maybe even betrayal at least, but he just felt numb. Wouldn’t normal people exact anger, crimes of passion even? The French were experts in that. Maybe I''m just too english, I left like a thief in the night, like I was the one committing a sin. Yet I feel nothing. Just … numb.
He nodded at his grandparents and smiled. They seemed content with his response and continued with what they were doing.
He thought about how these parents of his deceased father seemed so down to earth so pure, despite the passing of their only son. And yet, his other grandparents, Grandmother Sue and Grandfather Joe were the opposite. As soon as their daughter lost her marbles they seemingly disinherited the whole branch and focused on their other more ‘normal’ children and grandchildren.
He didn’t care one way or another, the two people in front of him were the only grandparents he needed. His cousins and aunts and uncles were essentially foreigners, the blood between purged as if blood letting would break all legal and emotional ties.
He contemplated turning his phone back on, knowing that he had messages from both Julia and Bob. If he felt nothing, why not? Yet the phone remained dead, a useless brick in his pocket.
—---
Joe returned to school as if nothing had happened, shunning all those that came to speak with him. He focused solely on his school work and managing the affairs of his father and his sectioned mother. Bob came up to him many times to talk but Joe only smiled and indicated he was busy. He quit the band the following week hanging up his fender for the last time. He didn’t feel the music anymore. Tom, who was the guitarist in another popular band took his place in what was now called The Vibe. Apparently he was the one who chose the new name as a precondition for joining.
Perversely, Joe dived deeper and deeper into the Calculus behind the physics, even deciding to take a late A level in differential calculus. Now with four main A levels to pursue he was even busier. He crossed paths with Julia earlier on, but the look of hatred that appeared on his face kept her away. He was surprised by his reaction but ignored it, like the rest of his emotions, buried along with his father.
The funeral was held late November, with only close family attending and some of John’s colleagues from when he was a professor. A cursory member of the Black Rock foundation turned up to represent the company he worked for prior to his death, but they only stayed to make sure that Joe was happy with their payout. He told them to fuck off.
His university applications came back all positive stating that if he kept to his predicted grades an interview and even a place was almost 100 percent guaranteed. Oxford even said that if his Physics hit A* along with Calc there was a chance of a scholarship. Joe was happy with that, University fees being what they are. Not that he didn’t have the money of course, his father had made sure of that, just the prestige that attached itself to scholarships, especially at Oxford, were hard to beat. He could be working at Cern or even SpaceX in no time with that kind of record.
—
Time continued to tick by and days became weeks and weeks became months. Exams were held, students swotted and sweated. Dreams were made or crushed from the opening of a website, choice D universities became choice A and they resigned themselves to their fate. On the other hand Joe had succeeded, A*s across the board, and Oxford was a sure thing. The college that was the best for Physics had already sent him a welcome pack for the following September.
Now he no longer had a reason to get a job for the summer he decided to travel. He bought himself a rail pass and travelled through all the various countries he had only read about or his dad had often cooked some dodgy dish from. He read profusely, wiling away the long hours on the train with texts by Wittgenstein and Hobbes in preparation for the logic courses he would take at Oxford. He spent an inordinate time in Rome, being an empire fan like most modern imperials, poking down alleyways and sipping coffee at roadside bars. He met many women and bedded some, names and faces a pleasant dream soon forgotten, a watercolour canvas, beautiful in its impermanence. And thus he returned to the British Isles, a travelled man, maturer perhaps, undoubtedly wiser. So began his university days.