April 14th, 1989

April 14th, 1989

At home

Ben went to the Spanish Embassy in London to see about his work visa. I decided

not to go with him to allow him the “space” he so clearly needs.

Went shopping with mum this morning then spent all afternoon huddled in the phone chair:

Pamsy – “You really need to get down here, it’s time to get back out on the town.”

“I know.”

“When does Ben leave?”

“A week from today.”

“Oh goodie, I guess we’ll be hitting the town next Friday night?”

“I’ll see,” I said.

“No. Come down. I insist. I need you here.”

Next, was Sarah – “I’m so happy it’s Friday! Why don’t you come over tonight?”

“I can’t, sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to a party with Ben.”

“Whose party?” she asked, sounding mopey.

“No-one you know, friends of his parents.”

“Bo-ring. Come to mine instead. I haven’t seen you for yonks. Plus, it’s the weekend.”

At that point I was dying for a cup of tea but as soon as I got up the phone rang again.

“McGarr! I actually caught you at home. Shocking. What are you doing tonight?”

“Going to a party.”

“The guys and I have a gig later, you should come and hear us play. It’ll be much better than any party. I guarantee it.”

“Possibly but I’ve made a commitment.”

“McGarr, please, you and commitments do not go hand in hand.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” I said, laughing.

“In my experience it is. I’ll come and pick you up if you don’t want to drive. How’s the car running by the way?”

“Seems to be fine.”

“Are you still a scaredy-cat about driving?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“In that case, I can leave work right now and head to yours. No driving required on your part.”

“I can’t, sorry.”

“This is your chance McGarr to stand at the front of the stage screaming for the best band ever.”

“Thanks but I do have plans.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, sounding despondent. “I’ll let you know when we have our next gig.”

Enjoyed dinner with mum and dad before they got changed and went out to meet Janice and Terry. Over dinner, dad had mum and I in stitches with stories about some of the people he works with. He’s very intuitive and I think he’s great at describing people to a to a T. I’m sure I must drive him mental sometimes with my comings and goings but I know if he gets onto me it’s because he cares and I can’t get mad at him for that.

Ben rang to say he had just got home and wasn’t in the mood for the party but I insisted we go because we said we would and I don’t think you should just back out of something because you can’t be bothered.

That proved to be a mistake. Ben refused to dance and every word I said seemed to piss him off even more than he already was. We left the party at eleven thirty and on the walk home he accused me of being selfish and condescending. I asked him why he thought that but he said he didn’t want to talk. When we got to his, I got in my car without either of us saying a word.

And now I’m home, crying again. This is ridiculous. I thought being in love was supposed to make you happy?

 

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