Pack Up the Moon (3 page)

“Got any glasses?” I asked, unable to move.

She handed me two large pint glasses before leaving

the room, with her tray now stacked with sandwiches. I filled my glass with wine and John’s with beer. I looked at the wine for a few minutes before taking a sip and made

a mental note never to put wine into a pint glass again. Having said that, it tasted fine. Sean had started to skin up again and I was really beginning to relax after my stressful

day.

“Where’s Clo?”

“She’s here,” said Sean, while dispersing tobacco with expert hands.

“Where?”

“Upstairs with some guy,” he answered, grinning.

I felt suddenly alert.

“I tried to get into the bedroom to leave my coat,” he continued. “The door was locked and Clo’s voice told me to fuck off.”

John started to laugh. I wanted to check it out, but my legs wouldn’t work. Anne kept entering and restacking her tray, only staying long enough to warn us about overdoing it. Richard, who was pissed, was holding court in the sitting-room. We remained in the kitchen drinking, smoking and laughing at rubbish.

After a while Anne arrived back into the room. “How’s it going?” I asked.

“Richard is on his fourth we’re-filthy-rich speech. I really don’t know what’s got into him,” she said and suddenly I was reminded of my mother.

Sean was laughing. “Haifa bottle of vodka, four Slippery Nipples and at least two joints,” he noted as though reading a shopping list.

Anne remained unimpressed. “Yes, very funny, Sean. You’re a fucking comedian.”

Sean was so inebriated he was fully sure that her jibe

was a compliment. “Cheers!” he said, lifting his glass and John and I followed suit.

“You’re a bunch of wasters,” Anne said and we fell about the place laughing, delighted with our title. She smiled and threw her eyes up to heaven like an amused

parent admonishing bold children.

She was piling more food onto trays when Clo walked

into the room with a guy trailing behind her.

“Hey, folks,” she said, relieving Sean of his fresh produce. The guy just stood there, not sure where to put himself. She parked herself on a chair and patted the one beside her. “Sit here,” she said, smiling at her new friend again.

But he didn’t see her, as he was too busy looking at us,

who in turn were staring at him as only stoned people

can. He sat, appearing perturbed. We were waiting for an introduction. Clo smiled at us, as if forgetting about the sexual object beside her. Eventually _John asked her to introduce us.

“Oh,” she said, “this is Philip.”

Anne, now finished piling the tray, welcomed him to her home and headed off into the sitting-room. We all just smiled at him until he excused himself to go to the

loo. The second the door closed behind him, I asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“Did you just have sex with him upstairs?”

“No!” she stated categorically while nodding her head yes.

“So where did you meet this poor bastard?” Sean asked tactfully.

“The taxi rank.”

We laughed again.

“There really is an awful lot to be said for public

transport,” she noted and Sean nodded in agreement.

Anne arrived back in. Sean asked her to sit with us, but she was on a mission to find more ice. John called her Doris Day and, as she left, he was given two fingers for the second time that day.

Philip returned and sat down. We all stared at him again. After a few seconds he spoke. “So this is an inheritance party?”

We nodded again.

“What exactly is that?” he asked, appearing unimpressed.

It seemed pretty obvious to the rest of us, but Sean

decided to answer him. “It’s when a very, very rich

grandparent dies at a very old age and leaves you pots of

cash.”

We all smiled at him, stupidly delighted with the simplicity and honesty of his answer. Philip wasn’t convinced. “So, somebody died?” was his question.

_John looked at him as though he was retarded.

Sean said, “He was very old.” He took a drag of the joint directly after he said it, blew it out slowly and smiled at Philip. He reminded me of Steve McQueen in The Magnificent Seven and we stoners laughed again. Philip was a grown-up and therefore not impressed. He excused himself from our presence by saying he was going into the

sitting-room, but we all knew that he had every intention of leaving the building. We waited till we heard the front door slam.

Sean looked at Clo and stated the obvious. “You do realise he’s gone, don’t you?”

She smiled at him. ‘Gone But Not Forgotten!” She laughed at her own joke.

I turned to John and with surprising ability grabbed

his chin and turned it towards me, looked into his eyes and said in an American hillbilly accent, “I hope you give me somethin’ I won’t forgit tonight.”

Without missing a beat he answered in the same stupid

accent: “You and your sister, honey!”

Sean, who was taking a swig from his can, nearly choked at his friend’s comic genius and everybody

laughed again. Eventually Anne and Richard joined us. Clo passed the joint to Anne who took her first long and

sustained drag and Doris Day left the building. It was a few minutes before she realised that Philip was missing.

When she inquired as to his whereabouts, Clo responded monosyllabically with: “Gone!’

John added, “But not forgotten.”

We all fell about laughing and Anne said, “Christ!”

The night pretty much continued in that inane vein. At one point John and I were dancing — well, in fact, merely holding one another up and swaying. Anne put on Prince’s “Purple Rain”, which was our song. We swayed some more and remembered the night we had listened to

the song while christening our brand-new ten-year-old

Ford Escort. We smiled at the memory and recalled how amazed we were when the windows actually did steam

up. John spun me around at the end of the song and dropped me. Despite this little mishap I felt like Ginger Rogers — again the power of mind-altering drugs. After helping me back on my feet, he kissed me and I felt sixteen. John could always make me feel sixteen, which was one of the reasons that I loved him.

People started to leave and Clo disappeared to sleep

under the stairs, a habit she picked up in college. Unconcerned, we forgot to look for her when leaving. It was three in the morning and Richard and John were in

deep conversation about some stupid football game. We were standing at the door and I was tired and cold.

Eventually Anne called time and we headed out onto

the street. We hadn’t reached the edge of the footpath when I remembered that I had left my lighter behind. I wanted to go back in and get it but John insisted we’d get

it in the morning. I wouldn’t listen. The lighter was a silver-plated Zippo that Noel had given me for my twenty-first

birthday. He had it engraved and I loved it, not just

because it was a cool lighter but also because, to me, it represented his acceptance of my hedonistic lifestyle. So despite John’s protest I went back inside. He said he’d wait on the street.

Anne and Richard were in the sitting-room picking

up cans; Sean was still in the kitchen, smoking yet another joint. I smiled at him and made some stupid remark while looking for the lighter. He offered me a drag for the road. I accepted. He smiled at me.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

I smiled, waiting for the punch line that didn’t come. The words hung in the air.

“Cheers,” I said, a moment too late.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to embarrass you,” he slurred.

“It’s fine,” I said, going red. I saw my lighter on the

table and grabbed it. Instinctively I bent down to peck his

cheek to signify my exit. He turned as I reached his face

and I felt a shock run through me when his lips made

contact with mine. We both pulled back and he began to

apologise profusely. I didn’t want him to fuss, as it had

been an accident. We were friends and it was no big deal.

The End Is Near

I was moving towards the door when we heard a screech

of brakes closely followed by a sickening thud. I hadn’t even properly registered this background noise when Sean

was up and running out the door. I heard Anne and Richard shouting. They were calling John’s name. Suddenly I was stuck to the floor, still staring at the spot where Sean had been sitting.

Anne was now screaming, “Oh Christ, oh Sweet Jesus!”

My heart started to beat wildly. My chest started to hurt. I heard Richard screaming at Sean. “Don’t touch him, don’t move him!”

Suddenly my legs started to work. I was moving, running out of the house onto the street. Once outside, I saw my friends. Richard ran past me into the house.

Anne was standing in the middle of the road, staring down at Sean who was bent over someone who was

bleeding very heavily from the head. I looked around for

John. I must have been shouting his name because Sean looked up at me with panic in his eyes. I walked towards him and realised that the bleeding head was John. I started to shake and it seemed to take forever to get to where he

was lying. I slumped down on the ground.

“John, John, John.” I kept saying his name over and over again but he wouldn’t move. The driver was sitting on the curb, holding his knees to his chest, mumbling something about not seeing him and that he’d just appeared

in front of the car. I looked at this stranger biting his lip and crying.

Richard came out of the house saying the ambulance

would be here in five minutes. Anne ran back into the house. Sean was talking to John. He was telling him that everything would be OK and that the ambulance was on

the way. I told him I loved him and that he was to hold on. It was very cold; John looked very cold. I started to try to lift him up to take him into my arms, but Sean stopped me.

“We can’t move him, Em. He’ll be OK. The ambulance is on its way.”

“Please wake up!” I begged. I just wanted to see his eyes. “Please wake up!”

Anne ran out of the house with towels in her hands as

the ambulance came up the street. The medics got out and moved us out of the way. Sean pulled me away and held his arms around me tight, as though he was afraid that I would run away. Richard was staring at the driver who was sitting on the curb, his lip beginning to bleed. Anne was standing in the middle of the street still holding

the towels.

I was allowed to go in the ambulance with John; the

others followed in a taxi. I held his hand while they worked around me. They stuck tubes into him and used paddles on his heart. He was still asleep but I talked to him anyway. I told him that we could go on holiday as soon as he was

better and not to worry, because everything was going to be fine. I mentioned how much I needed him on a number of occasions and even spoke about some stupid

football match he was looking forward to.

We got to the hospital and I was left standing in a

corridor while they wheeled him into a room that only

staff were allowed into. A nurse took me into a waiting area and asked me if I wanted a cup of tea with sugar.

“Sugar is good for shock,” I said.

She agreed and smiled at me sadly. “I’ll get you that tea,” she said and left.

The others arrived minutes later and waited. Nobody spoke. I was terrified. I knew it was bad.

Please stay alive. Please be OK, I kept saying over and over again in my head.

Holy Mary Mother of God, please save him. Our Father Who Art in Heaven, please save him. Please God, please sweet Jesus, please save him. Glory be to the Father, please, I prayed, then I prayed again.

Sean suddenly remembered Clo. She was still in the house, passed out somewhere, blissfully unaware of this nightmare. Anne went to phone her.

The doctor was walking towards us. I looked up at him and it seemed like hours before my eyes reached his. He asked if any family were present. John’s parents hadn’t arrived yet. I stood up. I said I was family and walked towards him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “John’s head injuries were just too serious. We did everything we could. He wouldn’t have felt any pain.”

He was telling us that John was dead. My head hurt and my eyes were burning. I wanted to stop my heart from beating because each beat was becoming more

painful. The others were staring at inc. Anne was crying. I tried to listen to the doctor over the loud buzzing in my

ears. He took me into the room where I had been previously denied entry. He stood for a minute, watching me stare at John’s body. Then he left. John was in the room but I was alone.

No. This isn’t happening. We’re at home in bed. I’m having a nightmare.

“Wake up! Wake up!” I called out, pinching myself hard. “Wake up!”

I knew deep down I wasn’t dreaming but I pinched

myself harder. Then I held him in my arms. He was heavy and still warm.

I whispered into his ear. “Just open your eyes. That’s all you have to do. The doctors will take care of the rest.”

He wouldn’t though. Death was thick in the air, making it difficult for me to breathe with ease. There was a white sheet tucked under his chin. The blood had now stopped flowing from his head and he was clean. I could see his face again. He looked younger, like the teenage boy who had always picked me to play on his basketball

team despite my inability to play. I took his hand again and I could feel my heart breaking.

I briefly wondered if I was about to have a heart attack

and I welcomed it. He was dead. He was dancing with

me a few hours ago, but now he was dead. It was becoming even more difficult to breathe.

“I love you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I really wish that you would fucking wake up.” I pleaded with him but he couldn’t hear me, but I couldn’t accept that. I kissed him on his blue lips and rubbed my wet face against his cheek. I whispered into his ear and begged, “Please come back!”