It had been two weeks since my glorious day at the museum, the day I embarrassed Jason and taught a successful lesson of primary school children in front of my girlfriend's mum and the man I wanted a job from. Three fantastic things in one and quite frankly, if only one of those things happen in a year I'd have been happy. But since then, Bernard had taken a holiday. Fourteen days in Madrid with his wife, Maureen. He said he'd get back to me when he'd gotten back to England, and we'd discuss my future at the museum, leaving ample time for me to sit back and be proud of that great day. But of course I couldn't, as I hadn't stopped working at the supermarket.
Steve hadn't asked me about the museum. Why would he? It didn't involve him or anything to do with an XBOX, why would he be interested? But I was determined to let people know I was doing something other than pushing trolleys, crowbarring references into every single conversation I was having. Sonia at the kiosk heard all about my day teaching school children, even though I was buying a packet of chewing gum and there was a long cue for the lottery. The receptionist got an earful and even the man in the cash point cue, who was startled to hear the specification of the computers we use over there. Still, glad to hear he was interested.
But Steve wasn't. He was too busy applying layers upon layers of sun cream his mum bought him earlier that day, re-angling his Iron Maiden cap on his head and making high pitched noises to show he was hot. This time last year it was trying to snow, now it seemed the whole town was buying stacks of beers and meat for the barbeque's.
'Yeah...' I gazed into the sun. 'Bernard said he'll ring me back...'
'Who?' Steve asked.
'Bernard...from the museum. He's on holiday in Greece.'
'I want a holiday. Been looking on teletext every night.'
'Why don't you try the internet?'
'The what?'
'You know...just Google holidays?'
'Google Holidays?'
'Yeah...'
Steve stared at me. I gazed back, shielding my eyes from the sun.
'There are holidays...' I said slowly. 'On the internet.'
'Is that on the computer?'
'Yeah...on the internet.'
'We didn't have the interweb at our Poly-tech, you know. We had to graft. On our own. Blood, sweat and tears.'
'What did you study?' I asked.
'...Art and Design.'
The only blood came from a nasty paper-cut, presumably.
'They have them in library's, too.' I tried.
'Oh, right.' Steve nodded. 'I went in there last Thursday. Needed a slash.'
I was about to tell him more about where to find cheap holidays when I man walked up to his car in front of us. He bleeped the boot open and threw in a couple of instant barbecue boxes.
'I know him.' I whispered to Steve.
'Oh yeah?'
'Yeah, went to school with him.'
He was wearing those khaki odd length pants, a vest top and overly large sunglasses. He was about to jump into his car when he looked up at us. There were a few moments of awkward smiles and nodding, when Steve piped up.
'All right, mate.'
'Yeah. Cheers.' He said coolly.
Before he sat in the car his eyes shot over to me.
'Dylan? Dylan James?'
'All right, mate.' I repeated Steve's greeting.
'I can't believe it. How long has it been?!'
He whisked over to me and gave me a warm and strong handshake, smiling with all the positivity of a Beach Boys song.
'Years. Years and years.'
When the handshake came to an end, I suddenly was aware of Steve's presence.
'Oh, Steve this is...'
Bang. There is was. The moment I realised I had absolutely no idea what this man's name was. We'd been through it all, as I can remember. Sports Days. Parent's Evenings. School Plays. The lot. And now, more than ten years on, I hadn't the faintest. Back than I could have probably told you his shoe size and favourite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Now. Nothing.
'...a friend of mine from primary.'
I had to talk again to block out any confirmation of his name if Steve would ask.
'We got up to all sorts, didn't we?' I said to him.
'Oh, yeah. Remember that time we hid in the bushes to get out of P.E?'
'Do I remember it? The nettles stung for about a bloody week!'
We both laughed. This was getting rather convincing. I was proud of myself.
'We'll have to meet up someday. Catch up.' He smiled.
Of course I agreed. That's what you do, isn't it? You meet anyone from your past, love them or hate them, you'll agree to see them again.
'Brilliant. Give us your number.' I said.
I got out my phone and pressed a few buttons. He read out his number as I typed it in, his eyes focussed on the screen. The flashing bar moved down to the 'Name' entry. I cleared my throat and thought for a moment. I could just press OK and have the number in my phone, with no name attached to it. An anonymous row of numbers. But seconds has elapsed, even Steve couldn't help me. I angled the phone towards my chest and typed words that I could remember.
'What have you wrote?' He bent the phone back whilst giggling. '...Primary School?'
Anyone would do the same! If you don't know someone's name you think of name so you'll recognise who your numbers are. That's why a mate of my Dad's who built us our shed is called 'Shed Man'. Surely he can't be offended by it.
'Oh my God.' My old school friend took off his glasses. 'You don't remember my name, do you?'
'Yeah, course. It's just this bloody thing.' I tapped my phone. 'It's new. Can't find the right button.'
I began to sweat. Steve just smiled.
'Well...you want to start with that one.'
He pointed at the buttons. In the direction of either to R or the T. I couldn't quite tell. I just had to guess, slowly pressing the T button and looking up at him to make sure.
'That right?' I said softly.
He glared at me, put his sunglasses back on and marched to his car.
'Nice one.' Steve laughed, the distant revving engine distorting his voice.
Things couldn't have gotten worse. Oh, apart from Sharon wanting me in her office just seconds later.
End of part one.
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