Page 65 of The Notecard
The timer on the oven beeps. The pizzas are done. We walk over and I open the oven door. I take out both pizzas and put them on a wire rack to cool off. They smell incredible. I went with a simple pepperoni, while Meg went with olives, mushrooms, ham, and onions. I can’t wait to tuck into them. One night. It changes things. I wonder if Meg’s thinking about it too. I tell her to sit down at the table, and I’ll bring the food through. We have the pizzas, the salad, and the rest of the bottle of wine. I bring the pizzas through and set them down before I go back for the salad and the wine. When I walk back in Meg is at the fireplace. She turns and looks at me.
‘Is that your dad?’ she says.
‘Yes,’ I say, sitting down at the table.
‘It’s the only photo you have up in the flat. It’s a good one.’
‘It’s how I like to remember him.’
It was the day before I left for university. I was eighteen, and Mum and Dad took me to the local pub for dinner. My parents had wine, I had a few beers, and we had a delicious meal. We were talking and having a good time. It was strange knowing I was about to leave home, the only home I had ever known, potentially forever. The whole day had a strange feeling about it. As if I was watching myself from outside of my body. It was the end of my childhood. There was no going back. Mum nipped inside, and Dad and I had a talk. Man to man. Dad and I didn’t have many heart to hearts over the years. He wasn’t that sort of dad. He waited for Mum to leave, then he turned to me and said.
‘Nick, I just want to say that I’m so proud of you. You’re going away to university now. You’ll be gone for four years, and they’ll be some of the best years of your life. Enjoy them. Embrace every moment. All of it. Don’t let the experience pass you by in the library. Study hard, obviously, but it’s a precious time. Enjoy it. And if you ever need anything, we’re here. If you need to come back for a weekend, or if you need money, or a chat, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m so excited for you, son. I love you, you know that, right?’
I nodded and said, of course, and maybe for the first time, we both sort of cried. Not full-on floods, but we had tears in our eyes. We hugged until Mum came back and could sense the moment. It was then she took the photo of us. Dad and I on a bench, our arms around each other, smiling into the camera, our eyes glazed over with tears. Dad, with more hair than I remember, me heading off to university. Father and son. It’s my favourite photo of us. A moment in time.
‘It must have been so hard, losing him so young?’ says Meg.
We’re sitting down, about to tuck into our pizzas. Flashes of Dad go through my mind. The thing that matters the most, has always mattered more than anything in history, is love.
‘It was. Still is. It’s a different hard now though. Now I’m just sad because of all the things he’ll miss out on. When I get married, have children, all the years that him and Mum never had. The holidays they didn’t get to go on. That’s what hits me when I wake up in the middle of the night and think about him. I’m thankful for all the wonderful moments we had, and I’m sad for the memories we had yet to create.’
‘I know it’s different, and I’m not trying to compare, but that’s what hurts most about James and I breaking up. I thought we had an entire life together. It took me a long time to get over the feeling I wasn’t going to live the rest of my life with him.’
We smile at each other. An understanding smile. Jack Johnson is still playing. I light the candle on the table, then get up and turn off the lights. It’s romantic. Just us.
‘Oh my god, this pizza is amazing,’ says Meg. ‘I can’t believe we made these.’
‘It’s why I always make my own. It’s better than delivery pizza.’
‘How many more surprises do you have up your sleeve?’
‘I mean, to be honest, not many. I’m good at bed sheets,’ I say.
Meg laughs.
‘That’s brilliant because I hate doing bed sheets.’
‘What about you?’
‘Surprises?’ says Meg. ‘Let me see. I’m good at limbo, which I know isn’t a particularly important life skill, but if we’re ever on holiday, and there’s a contest, I’m a guaranteed winner.’
I look at Meg and smile, and there it is. If we’re ever on holiday. The future that doesn’t exist. This is the problem with one night. There is no what if? There is no, imagine a future where this happens. When I spoke about getting married and having children, I wasn’t thinking with Meg. It isn’t going to happen. The future. One night.
‘How are things with your parents?’ I ask.
‘I think I preferred it when they were separated,’ says Meg and I laugh.
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I don’t, but it’s hard being around them these days. They’re more in love than ever. You know when you see a teenage couple walking down the street, and he’s got his arm around her neck, and he’s pulling her into him, and she’s got her hand in his back pocket, and they kiss at about every fourth step. It’s disgusting and you can’t watch them because you think to yourself, you think this is love? You have no idea. You’re just a couple of annoying kids who think no-one has ever loved like this before. That’s my parents at the moment.’
‘It sounds horrific.’
‘It is. With that and Keri and Hugh all loved up, there’s no-where to hide. How’s things with your mum and Michael?’
‘They’re in Ibiza at the moment. Michael has a house on the beach.’
‘Wow, go Michael.’
