No. 1

RMOAMLC

No. 1

Midweek and I’m meeting Julian in town for a drink. He approaches with two pints and slides mine across the table towards me. He examines his own drink against the light before we touch glasses and take the first sip.

“How are things?” I ask.

Julian statres at the head on his beer before replying, “Good, yes very good.” His eyes flick from side to side as if he is struggling to decide exactly where to start telling me about just how good things are. In the end he settles for a “Yeah….” which emerges as a sigh as his gaze drifts off to the middle distance.

Julian and I go way back, he is my closest friend. Something is very plainly not going well.

“How’s work?” I ask.

“Good,” says Julian nodding in exaggerated fashion to emphasise the point. He takes a slug of his beer and then asks, “How about you?”

I stare at the head on my beer. Julian knows that I have moved out of home. I consider telling him about the arguments, the problems over seeing the children and the misery of living in a one bedroom flat with no television and an inflatable mattress with a slow puncture for a bed. “Good. Not bad at all,” I say.

“The kids?”

“Yeah good,” I say and my gaze drifts off to the middle distance. A silence descends on our table. In an attempt to lift it I mention, in what I hope is a casual tone, that I’m thinking about writing something.

Julian raises his eyebrows, ”Mm, what sort of thing?”

“Oh just some personal reflections,” I study his face, “on the theme of mid-life crisis.”

Julian splutters on his beer. “Mid-life crisis? What do you have to say on the subject of mid-life crisis?” His voice is high pitched, challenging.

I shrug, ”I’m not claiming to be an expert,” I say defensively.

“But you’re not having a mid-life crisis. Good grief, you’ve got a job in the City and you’re free to have relationships with whoever you want.” There is bitterness in his voice and in that moment I catch a fleeting sight of the demons that torment him as if stealing a glimpse into a locked room.

But I want Julian to understand, I want his approval. I want to tell him that a mid-life crisis is not about wearing novelty socks or buying a sports car. It’s the overwhelming disappointment you feel when you accept that you have run out of time to change the course of your life. It is like perpetually living in that moment at the end of teenage discos when the lights go up and you realise that you have missed the opportunity to ask someone to dance.  And as if this were not hard enough to bear, the truly crushing fact is that there is nobody to blame but yourself. You did this to yourself. I think all of this but what I actually say is, “Got time for another?”

Over the second pint we relax and discuss safe topics. We make each other laugh and when new have finished we go our separate ways and promise to meet up soon. An hour later I’m off the train and in my car arguing with my ex over the phone when I notice the blue flashing light in the mirror. The policeman and I play the “do you know why we stopped you” game and I breath a huge sigh of relief when I learn that it was for not having my lights on. Unfortunately the sigh is gently perfumed with beer and moments later I am standing on the pavement blowing into a small black box. In the time it takes for the machine to register the amount of alcohol in my breath I have carried out a fairly thorough audit of the consequences of a positive test and my legs are like jelly when the officer tells me I am fine and to be more careful in future. He gives me the clear plastic mouthpiece as a keepsake and I thank him and get back in my car.

The next morning I wake up with only the deflated mattress between me and the hardwood floor. I roll over and pick up my phone. There is a text from Julian,

Good to see u last night. Love to read that stuff you mentioned. Let’s meet up again soon.

I spot the clear plastic mouthpiece lying on the floor as I text a response. I think of telling Julian about my encounter on the way home. Then I think better of   it because as I lay there stiff and still tired I realise that in addition to the loss of hope and the self loathing, part of having a mid-life crisis is that you face it on your own.