June 9th, 1991

June 9th, 1991

Scott’s House, Antigua

There are people who need no excuse to celebrate and there are people who never feel the need to commemorate any type of milestone and I’m getting the impression William is the latter!

Take tonight, for instance, William’s last night on the island before he returns to the States tomorrow, after a two year secondment here.  The people he’s come to know were throwing a farewell party at our favourite nightclub (where we first met!) but an hour before we were due to leave, he said he didn’t want to go.

“Why not?” I asked, thinking he might be feeling poorly.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Are you ill?”

He shook his head.

“You can’t just not show up, unless of course you’re ill, which clearly you’re not!”

“I’m not going,” he sulked.

“That’s not fair to everyone who took the time to organize it, besides, they all want to say bye to you.”

“I don’t like that kinda thing.”

“Well,” I huffed. “It’s too late now, we have to go!”

“You can go,” he stated. “I’m not going.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can’t go without you.”

He looked at me as though I were speaking a different language, reminding me of Nana, who told me on more than one occasion she didn’t like crowds or being the centre of attention.

“Fair enough,” I said, not wishing to upset him further. “But you should at least call and let them know.”

“Can you do it?”

“Absolutely not!” My tone was in keeping with my level of frustration.

I don’t mind missing a party but I’ll never be the one making the call.

 

 

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