Page 20 of Wish You Were Here
‘Ciggy?’
‘I quit, remember?’
‘Oh, right, yeah,’ says Joe, and he looks at me and smiles, but there is something about his smile that’s different. He has a look in his eyes, a glimmer like he has news or something to tell me. I can tell he’s eager for me to ask him how he is.
‘You all right, Joe?’
‘Now that you mention it,’ says Joe, turning to face me and blowing smoke directly into my face. ‘I have some news, and it’s big, Sas. Really fucking big!’
Hopefully, he’s moving to Melbourne to pursue a singing career, or better, Perth, or maybe even America! I would absolutely love it if Joe Thompson was moving far away, or even if he was getting married so I didn’t have to worry about him cracking onto me every time we performed on the same bill.
‘Yeah?’ I ask, and then Joe makes a big deal out of finishing his ciggy, putting it out, and then he looks at me, a huge, annoying smile on his smug face. Eventually, when it’s become quite weird and uncomfortable, he says.
‘Guess who’s going on tour with Fudge Cake?’
I can’t believe the words I am hearing. Obviously, the person going on tour with Fudge Cake is Joe, unless this is a really weird story. Fudge Cake are a huge up-and-coming band that have been big in Sydney for a couple of years now, but have juststarted to crack the national market. They have a large following on Spotify, and from what I’ve heard are about to embark on a tour of Australia and New Zealand, and it seems that Joe ‘fancy a go behind the bins’ Thompson is going to be one of their support acts. I want to cry. I can already feel a barrage of tears beginning to well up behind my eyes, and then it’s like a sudden punch to my gut, a jolt of disbelief, followed by anger and then sadness at the awful injustice of it all. A wave of dejection rushes through me, and I feel nauseous. Why him? What the fuck does he have that I don’t? I am stunned into silence for a moment, afraid that one word will unleash the tears and I’ll fall apart in front of Joe Thompson, and I can’t do that. I won’t do that. If either of us were ever going to make it, I would have put money on me, but now it seems Joe has hit the big time.
Finally, when I am back to some sort of normality, when the world doesn’t feel like it has been turned upside down, I reply.
‘You’re going on tour with—’
‘Fucking Fudge Cake! Twenty-seven dates across Australia and New Zealand. Can you believe it, Sas?’
No, I fucking can’t!
‘That’s brilliant, Joe,’ I say because I don’t want to come across as a jealous, bad loser, although inside I am on fire. I want to tell him that he doesn’t deserve it, that his songs are bland and his soul patch is shit. Luckily, before I have to endure anymore talk of Fudge Cake, Jess and Aaron walk up, and she looks spectacular in a short dress, high heels and I see Joe’s eyes light up – the perv. Although to be fair, she has a cracking chest.
‘Sas!’ says Jess. ‘We came to support you.’
‘Joe Thompson!’ says Joe quickly, pushing past me and offering his hand to Jess first – obviously – and then Aaron. ‘I’m on after Sas. The headliner!’
It’s awkward, and I can see that both Jess and Aaron are thinking the same thing: Who the fuck is this guy? Before it getsany stranger, I tell them I need to get inside and get ready, and so we all head into the pub. I have a quick catch-up with Jess before I walk to the green room. I say green room, but it’s just a large broom cupboard with a chair, a small dressing table with a cracked mirror and it comes with a free bottle of water – living the rock star life! I sit down and look at myself in the mirror, and finally I let a few tears go. Joe is going to live my dream, and he doesn’t deserve it. As I’m wiping my eyes, my phone buzzes with a message. I look down and I have a WhatsApp message from Ben. We decided in our last email to exchange numbers ahead of our FaceTime. I open WhatsApp.
Break a leg tonight! Is that the right expression for a singer? Do singers break legs or is that just actors? Sorry, I have no idea, but I really hope it goes well. I bet you’re going to kill it! Looking forward to our FaceTime on Saturday! Beno xx
Reading his message, the tears subside, and I smile. Unfortunately, before I get the chance to respond, I hear my name being called, and it’s time to go on. I grab my guitar and start walking towards the small stage at the back of the pub. I walk out, the lights shining on me, and I immediately hear a loud cheer, and when I look into the crowd, I see Jess and Aaron. Jess is waving at me, Aaron is holding a schooner of beer, and standing next to Aaron is Joe. I immediately feel sick again. How can Joe be going on tour with Fudge Cake and not me? I have to clear my head because I have a set to perform. I have to break a leg because who knows, maybe my big break is just around the corner. I have to keep believing because what is the alternative? As Lou said, I can’t give up until I have given it everything.
9
Ben
‘What about this one?’ I say to Flatmate Simon, holding up a light blue denim shirt.
‘I mean, it’s FaceTime, mate. I hardly think a shirt is going to make it or break it, to be honest,’ replies Flatmate Simon, a cup of coffee in his hand, while he watches something on YouTube. He calls it ‘market research’, but to me it seems like he’s just been watching YouTube for the past two hours. ‘Although that’s better than the last one.’
We’re in the living room and I have been going through the depths of my wardrobe, trying desperately to get the best look for my FaceTime with Saskia. I need the right shirt, the perfect setting, my hair needs to behave, hopefully we click, and it’s not just really awkward. To be honest, I think that’s the thing I’m most worried about rather than my sartorial choices. I can control how I look, the shirt, my hair and the setting, but what I can’t control is how we actually get on. I think a part of why I’m so good at my job is that I love structure and control, and it’s so much easier with financial markets and property acquisition because I can look at statistics, analyse graphs and make considered choices based on knowledge and experience. However, with love, it feels like a complete shot in the dark, and you never know how it’s going to go. You could do all theresearch in the world, and they could still turn out to be mind-numbingly dull, or with Saffy, a complete basket case.
I return to my bedroom and get ready for the call. I decide to go with the denim shirt and then I set myself up at my desk. Fortunately, it’s a bright, warm day outside, so there’s a good amount of natural light coming in through the window. I open my phone and check how I look using my camera, and it might not be the best, but it’s about as good as I can look. Then it happens. I have a FaceTime request from Saskia! It’s crazy to think that she is all the way across the world in Australia and I am in London. It feels like a date. I’m nervous like it’s a date, yet we are 10,000 miles apart and romance isn’t on the cards. I take a deep breath and then I answer.
It takes a moment for it to connect, and then there she is. Saskia is in her bedroom, and she looks beautiful. I don’t know if she, like me, has spent the past hour getting ready, but whether she has or not, and maybe she just dashed into her room after a night out, she is stunning. I know that if we are just talking about a physical attraction it is definitely there – at least from my side.
‘G’day!’ I say, like an absolute fool, and she laughs. I adore her laugh.
‘You know Australians don’t always say G’day, Beno.’
‘Wait, what?Neighbourslied to me?’
‘You’re aNeighboursfan?’
