Madness and an Old Friend

A short story...

Madness and an Old Friend

Once upon a time I met an old friend. It had been a very long time since we had seen each other. Truth be known, we never were particularly great friends. More acquaintances actually, loads of mutual friends. Back in the day I was too busy flying about from party to party and boy to boy. I hardly noticed him, except when he played guitar. He went on to become an acclaimed musician. Worked at it diligently. Played and played. A local legend, earning international recognition. A great talent.

Almost forty years later we met again. I had been going to shows for some time. Hanging back in the clubs, just far enough so not to be seen. I thought maybe he wouldn't remember me and if I were to say hi, I would just be embarrassed. I followed his career. Bought the albums, read the website, listened closely to radio interviews. A dedicated fan.

A time came. I heard the band was playing at my local club. I arranged a party. Gathering a great group of friends, we went to the show. There was much dancing. After the first set, and several drinks, I managed to say hello. He was gracious and seemed to genuinely enjoy chatting. I was thrilled. Perhaps he was simply humouring a fan, an old acquaintance. That's part of the job. He's good at his job.

Two years later I went to see him play again. This time I made myself seen straight away. He was very engaging. So charming. I flirted shamelessly. It seemed like the thing to do. It felt good. He flirted back. It was wonderful. There was hand holding, touching, kissing. All very exciting. I hadn't felt like that in years, in decades. It was intense, visceral, thrilling. I wanted more.

There were private messages, discrete meet ups and telephone conversations. It only lasted a few weeks. All the while my heart pounding. He was never out of my mind, not for a moment. The intensity was palpable. I didn't want it to stop. I knew it was impossible. Softly, he was gentle, he was clear. It was over. It was done.

I went a little bit crazy. Lost my mind for a few moments, and months. He went on to find love with an appropriate girl, a beauty. I was rescued from madness by my partner, my best friend. There was relief in that. But still I think of him. I think of him often, too often. Getting over madness takes time, and effort. Its a long, slow, uphill kind of thing. Sometimes the hill is slippery. Sometimes I slip.