July 1st, 1989
At Jon’s, Middlesex
Fuelled by guilt, I rang Jon first thing this morning.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hi Jon, it’s Karen.”
“Karen who?” he asked.
Making my name sound like a question, I said, “Karen McGarr.”
“McGarr you said?”
“Yes, Karen Mc…” I stopped when I heard him chuckle.
“That was mean.”
“Sorry McGarr, couldn’t resist.”
Jon offered to come and pick me up but I told him I had to drop mum off at church and then I’d catch the train. Mum was super excited that someone called Billy Graham was coming to speak and when I dropped her off two hours before he was due to appear, the parking lot was already full.
Bit of a nightmare getting here, with Saturday shoppers jamming the trains and too many screaming kids.
Jon came to meet me off the train and we went straight to The Harrow, where the usual suspects lined the bar. It was so nice seeing everyone again and we picked up where we left off. Jon has the nicest friends.
It’s Dickie’s birthday so Jon threw an impromptu party for him that only just wound down. After everyone cleared out, I offered to help Jon clean up a bit. While we were in the kitchen there was an awkward moment when we came dangerously close to kissing but I laughed it off.
Now I’m separated from him by only a wall and can hear him moving around his bedroom. I keep hearing the echo of Frankie’s voice telling me I need to get back on the bike and I wonder if it counts if you get on the bike with someone you previously rode with.