Chapter 3

            I didn’t want to eat their food. It looked good, but it was Melissa’s s**t. They didn’t touch their dishes either, so for all I know she could’ve meddled with the cooking using something like arson. I was too excited to eat, any road, because I really wanted to have the couple over to San Francisco. Right then, almost nearing seven-thirty, the views of the Financial District from my suite would be spectacular and impressive. And George’s place, don’t get me wrong, was cute and had amazing views in its own right, but I just wasn’t getting excited out of the whole environment.

            I didn’t tell them, but I was already having a little gathering before I headed out to Sausalito. Some local blokes I knew it the area and ladies I met on my last visit out to San Francisco a few years back. Nice company, not trashy sorts at all, but nonetheless fun and engaging. They were all waiting for us back at the Fairmont when I brought the likes of Melissa and George back with me. They looked rather shocked, and knew no one.

            “Alright, oi, everyone!” I shouted over the music, “it’s my dear friend George and his wife Melissa! Make em feel welcome, shall we?” A few smiles and quick sharp glances looked our way but the party continued on as before. I couldn’t really abandon them, being a good host and all, so we tried sitting around for a bit. “Here, come look at the balcony,” I started again, moving off the couch and hurrying outside. I was right, all the buildings were lighting up almost simultaneously. God, the sight of it was golden. Perhaps George didn’t think I fancied such sights or noticed them at all, but I’m very much a sentimentalist sort of man. Tonight would be hard proving that, amidst the loads of people in the rooms.

            “It’s quite lovely,” George agreed. He leaned over the railing to look down at the streets and cars, even I would not have done such. “I’m actually shocked you didn’t go for something bigger.”

            Through a laugh I said, “I’m a modest bloke, George! I’m probably not going to stay out this whole week any road. I think I’ll try the Mark Hopkins next visit, or Ritz-Carlton.”

            “Well, you should stay the whole week, since you’re hardly ever out here,” George suggested, moving over to Melissa’s side. I shook my head, “There’s so much more of the world to see,” I explained. “I’ve got to chase after all of it. Might be in Rio, I reckon.”  

            Melissa sighed and finally said, “Well, be sure to not just chase and run through it all. I mean, remember to absorb it all, eh? Fast-paced life for nothing.”

            No s**t, I thought, but I couldn’t say much in George’s presence. “It’s something I always keep in mind,” I assured her, “I’ve taken up photography these past few years, and the places I’ve been, my god miraculous and beautiful! I always make sure to have my share in its beauty, from the dirty city markets and their alleyways to high peaks of beautiful architecture and mountains alike.  I installed a gallery at Pewesbury just for my souvenir snapshots.”

            “Ha, imagine Geoffrey here,” George replied, “picking up old habits. He was such an amateur photographer back at Liverpool. Picked it up from Charlie, always showing me what pictures he took at the gigs and clubs they all went to while I stayed in doing papers and stuff.” It was a nice memory to bring up, and even Melissa looked admiring, but surprised, at me.

            “Well if you said amateur,” she started, “they still must’ve been gey s****y photos.” They both laughed, and so did I; just reminiscing about those things made the awkward mood between the three of us a bit nicer.

            For some reason I was feeling really sentimental and nice, just because of the sight of the starlit TransAmerica Pyramid, not too far from where we were standing on a balcony, I guess. Since we had just finished discussing photography, I declared, “You know, one day I will take a lovely photograph of the two of you.” Blank stares from both of them. “Really!” I nodded, “I mean, you’re a right boring pair, but genuine nonetheless. I’ve got to see if I can make a spot for this photo in the gallery. It would look nice, this genuine picture of genuine persons.”
            “You’re not really making sense,” Melissa remarked with an uncertainty in her looks, “Pretty much a picture of boring people, according to you.”
            “I mean nowt of the sort, my dear,” I said. “It’s the least I could do. Next time you’re in England, or next I’m in San Francisco! Either way, this is going to happen. I could, oh my god! I could�"” I reached out to the skyline of twinkling scrapers, “I could just plan ahead, set up a wonderful setting for the shot, get a wardrobe going for the two of you, a rooftop or a cliff on the edge of the Mediterranean!”
            George was laughing hysterically. “You’re drunk, I’m sure Geoff,” he concluded. “You and your wild notions and dreams about so many odd things. We don’t care wherever you take us or what you dress us up in, to be honest. Anything’s perfect.”

            “It is sweet, however, Geoffrey,” Melissa added. No sourness or contempt there.

            “Well, someday. I promise! This means,” I put my arm around George’s shoulder, “that I must stay in touch with you, my dear mate George! We ought to fix this.” He shrugged me off and said cooly, “Eh, baby steps, Geoff. Let’s just enjoy ourselves now and, em, toast to this em�"this little gathering we got going on here.” God, I forgot about all the others inside, and the music was being blasted louder. I smiled and simply said, “A lovely night after all, innit?”

            It was no doubt an awkward sort of evening, but we all did have a pleasing last impression of each other before I was off again and out of the country. I really did want to stay in touch, even if George didn’t believe me. Yet I promised myself I would keep close connections with everyone worthy of knowing, and I was beginning to realize after all that George Berkeley’s dullness was ironically the spice I needed to these relationships.