June 12th I found myself worrying that I wouldnt recognise Elsie when we finally met again. The last time I saw her, we were both fifteen; now were thirty, and I could only imagine how shed turned out in our little Yorkshire town.
Probably three kids and a husband who drinks too much, I thought, a sour grin forming on my face.
It baffled me why I harboured such anger. After all, I was the one whod left, not she.
When I arrived at the reunion, people greeted me as if I were a celebrity, which made me feel oddly embarrassed. I spotted no sign of Elsie among the former classmates and convinced myself it was better that way what a foolish nostalgia, I reminded myself, I dont need Elsie.
Then I saw her.
Elsies hands were slender, the blue veins clearly visible, her face sharp as a foxs, hair short and soft, styled like a tiny dandelion puff. She looked striking, and without thinking I blurted, What a beautiful Elsie
Our old schoolmate, Tom Gibbons, laughed and replied, Youre not the only one who says that! Look at Myrtle her hair is long and her skin flawless. Elsie, though, is a bit freckled and pale as a moth.
There were indeed some tiny pimples on Elsies cheeks, but to me they didnt lessen her charm. I grudgingly agreed with Tom, Right, perhaps.
I didnt know how to befriend Elsie. The girls no longer chatted with the lads as they used to, and a casual approach would likely get me teased by someone like Myrtle, who always seemed to have a boyfriend on the horizon.
Tom suggested an idea: a birthday gathering at his flat. His place was cozier than mine, forcing us all together, but it was still a laugh. Toms mum invented riddles for us, and we later played with the Transformers the classmates had gifted us, with me pretending to be the biggest one.
Mum, I asked the night before the party, can I invite the whole class?
My whole class? she replied, surprised. Where will we fit them all?
Please, Mum, can we?
Probably nobody will turn up, my dad said from the kitchen, just set up a buffet table. Theyll have a good time standing around, not necessarily at a table.
What about relatives? I asked.
Well see them another day, dad said kindly. And well need a tablecloth, napkins, and at least seven dishes
We settled on that plan. I feared Elsie might refuse and not come, especially because she wouldnt have any money for a present. Everyone knew she came from a large family; her mother was a librarian, her father a drunk, sweets were a rarity, and she borrowed jackets from her older sister. So when I approached her to ask her to the party, I stumbled over my words:
I was wondering if you could do me a favour could you sketch a cover for a record?
She looked puzzled, and I explained that a dog had torn the original sleeve, leaving only a plain white one, which I disliked.
Do you have a record player? she asked, suspicious. Everyone knew my father owned a chain of restaurants in town, and his home was equipped with the latest gadgets, not old gramophones.
Yes, we do, I shrugged. But I prefer vinyl. Will you draw it?
She had a talent for drawing top marks at school and her pieces often appeared at local exhibitions.
Alright, she said. Ill do it.
At the birthday, while half the lads were glued to the console and the others watched a film on the VCR, I showed Elsie, Mark, and two other girls the turntable and the records. I listened to everything from jazz to rock, but my favourite was The Beatles just like my dad and the torn sleeve belonged to a dog named Bun.
Elsie seemed bored at first; a turntable wasnt terribly exciting, even if it was my own. But when the music started, she sat upright, eyes fixed, as if a marching band were playing. Mark lost interest and returned to the console, while the girls turned the room into a makeshift disco, flailing about like theyd been shocked. Elsie stayed on the edge of the bed, unmoving.
A few days later she approached me, shyly, Could I borrow a record? I promise to be careful!
Thats my dads, I said quickly. He wont let anyone have them. But youre welcome over to mine whenever you like.
It feels a bit awkward, she admitted.
Its like trying to wear trousers over your head and sleeping on a shelf that keeps sliding off, I joked, imitating my father. Everything else is fine, so just come over.
Thus began our friendship, sparked by a shared love of a legendary band and then growing into something genuine, free of any games.
My son, youre serious about this girl? my mum asked one evening. Shes barely spoken, just nods at everything you say. I understand men are drawn to quiet types, but shes practically penniless. You need the right company from the start perhaps a switch to a grammar school?
Mom, I dont want to travel to the other side of town, I muttered. My current school is fine, the teachers are decent, and Ive even heard the tutor say my pronunciation and vocabulary are excellent, something not every school can boast.
My mother often hinted at the grammar school, but I resisted, not only because of Elsie but also because I genuinely liked my school.
Let her have her fun, my dad said. Its a young mans business.
Im not having fun! I snapped, feeling my ears flush red, which only made me angrier.
That argument bought me nearly a year of freedom. My mum rolled her eyes whenever I brought Elsie home, but she stopped mentioning the grammar school. In Year 9, she walked into my room while I was studying Elsies silhouette, and everything changed.
Initially I thought I was overreacting; when Elsie ran home, my mum said nothing. That night my father returned home quietly. Three days later he announced, Were moving to London.
London? Why? I was bewildered.
Im expanding the restaurant chain there. Youll need to finish school in the capital, not here. The competition is fierce, so well prepare early. Ive already arranged a place at a good school and found tutors.
I wont go, I replied.
And where will you go then? he asked.
There was nowhere else to go. When Elsie heard the news she wept, and I promised to finish my studies and then fetch her. She sighed, sounding older than her years, Youll never come back
On my departure I handed her the very record whose cover shed drawn, the one wed first kissed to.
It was clear my mother had been the mastermind behind the London plan, and I felt deeply betrayed both by her and by my father. When a classmate later left for university in Cambridge and told my dad, I want to go to Cambridge too, my mother burst into tears, fearing I would be left alone.
I remembered my older brother, born with a weak heart, whod died a year after birth, and how my mother had struggled to have another child. I understood her fear of losing me, though a part of me felt a grim satisfaction.
In London I toured every landmark linked to my idols, started smoking, changed my haircut, and dated a different girl each week, trying to forget Elsie. Each new romance quickly lost its spark.
When I returned to England and began helping my father with the restaurants, Id already had two semiserious relationships: one with a Greek girl who clung to me like a leech, and another with a pale university student named Jane, whose light hair reminded me of Elsie.
As soon as I got back, my mother began lining up potential brides, and I moved into the flat my father had given me for my eighteenth birthday. She called often, but I seldom answered. My dad urged me to be gentler; I retorted, She wanted me to be successful? I am. She cant force marriage.
When Mark texted me, I didnt recognise his profile picture at first, but once we cleared it up I was glad to accept his invitation to the school reunion, even though I wasnt technically invited.
SheElsielooked at me, smiling, without a hint of resentment, unlike me.
Hello, I managed, you havent changed a bit.
It was true; Elsie was still the slight, pale girl with the blueveined hands. Her hair was now a little longer.
From that moment I stopped noticing anyone else. We talked and talked. Elsie was indeed married now, but had divorced, and she had a tenyearold son named Oliver, who shared my name. Hearing my name made me blush, yet I couldnt deny the warmth it gave me.
Come with me, I blurted, realizing how foolish it sounded. Take your son and lets go to London; its better there than here.
Youve always been a dreamer, she said softly.
So that means no?
She gave no answer and headed for the door. I couldnt stop her; I had no words to persuade her to stay.
Ill go with you, Myrtleno, I meant Myrtle, the girl from schoolsaid, What hotel are you staying at?
The Central, of course, I replied.
Ill see you off, she teased.
I didnt even ask. I called a taxi, and we left.
When the knock came at the hotel door, I assumed it was housekeeping. Maybe theyve got the wrong floor, I thought.
On the threshold stood Elsie, her dress the same, hair tied in a bun, her nostrils flaring with irritation.
And where is she?
Who?
Myrtle! First she ran off with her husband, now shes after you?
I laughed. Theres no Myrtle here. Go check yourself if you like.
I stepped back; Elsie entered, looked around, settled on a chair.
My sister called, saying you both left together.
I drove her home in a taxi, as any gentleman would, and thats it.
And you didnt even kiss?
I raised my hands, halfjoking, Im innocent!
What else? Her lips are plumped, and theres more to it.
I didnt come here for that, I said.
Then why? To see me after fifteen years, remembering a promise?
So you were waiting?
Painful, isnt it! You forgot me the next day!
Well, I hardly remembered you either.
So should I leave?
Go ahead. But maybe first we listen to the record?
The record?
Yes, I brought the player.
Elsie squinted, smirked, So youve forgotten me, yet youve hauled a turntable here?
It appears so.
She pulled a bag from the hall, rummaged, and handed me a parcel.
It was the very record whose cover shed redrawn, the one Id given her when we said goodbye.
You left me the next day, yet you kept the record all these years? I teased.
She shrugged. I extracted the disc, ran my fingers over itno scratches, pristine. I set it on the player, pressed play. The room filled with music.
Without a word, we moved toward each other: my hands on her waist, hers on my shoulders. We twirled slowly, like at a prom that never happened. A blush rose on Elsies cheeks, my heart pounded as if Id just run a hundredmeter dash. Time seemed to stop, and it mattered not why wed broken promises or why she claimed she wouldnt go with me. The Beatles All You Need Is Love crackled from the speaker, and we both felt its truth.
Looking back, I realise that chasing after distant dreams and trying to outrun my past only left me hollow. The real treasure was the simple connection I had with Elsie, nurtured by shared music and honest moments. Ive learned that chasing glory abroad can blind you to the quiet joys at home, and that promises, however forgotten, can be kept through a simple record and a dance. The lesson: cherish the people who listen to the same tune as you, for they are the ones who make life harmonious.
