Milk

It was a fun evening that did not last long. Old friends had congregated together in a pub once again after ten long years. Most of the people there had forgotten what my face might have looked like. When I was first asked, I was quite hesitant to go, knowing that the last time we had seen each other were not exactly in good terms. It was a heartbreaking ordeal, and it was saddening to me that we had parted in such a tumultuous end. As I entered the pub, I worried that my clothing of choice might not be appropriate for such an occasion. The others had always been quite typically quaint British. Thrift store preppie babies with a mild taste for cardigans and tweed. Once I stepped into the garden where they had cooped up, not much has changed.

Before I could voice out my opening hello, everyone had lit up and screamed my name in unison after seeing me with such a boisterous hurray. I admit I did appreciate the surprising reaction. It had been quite some time since anybody had felt such joy upon seeing me. These past few years had been an awfully solitary road, and my recovery since then has been quite stagnant and in dire need of a short reprieve. A small gesture of appreciation at that particular moment went a very long way for someone like me.

Mara was there, together with her partner, Paul, who was the one who invited me that same day. He was always a pal, but he was also somewhat of a stubborn, old goat who had a pretty rough exterior that was a bit hard to crack. Giulia was also there with her partner whom I did not recognise. Lana too. And Niamh, with a partner whom I have not yet met but very much recognise, for he was fairly famous as one of the main bills in a British soap I did not admit to people of actually being a guilty pleasure. Of course, I was a bit starstruck, I suppose, it was unexpected indeed, but I had to temper my fanboyism and act casual and cool about it.

I thought none of these people I knew had changed if at all. Mara still feels the urge to boss me around the first time she saw me, and she is the only person in the group who deigns to refer to me by my surname. Paul did the same thing, but he caught it from her. She was always quite a firecracker, rambunctious, and fun. Of all the people I met that evening, she was the one I missed the most, simply because of her massive chakras that all open up to reveal her joyous impression of life. And also, I had thought she had the most potential to be the greatest amongst us all in our group. Her charisma could elevate a dying man’s lifespan by another year or two.

“Have you been here in London all along?” Mara asks, everyone gazes at me anticipating the answer.

“Yes,” I responded nervously. I have always felt like I could never finish a sentence when I am around these people. Somehow, I was always so self-conscious about whether or not they have a sincere interest about what I was going to say. It was always clear to me especially when they were being quite nonchalant about their fake interests in people, especially Giulia and Niamh. Those two have always been close to each other like Catdog. You could tell from their demeanour how united they are at being easily disinterested at the others. Or maybe it was just me. I have always felt a certain unease when dealing with these two, even though they were right as rain and nice. They best exemplify the typical British social nicety stereotype everyone just loves to lambast. A politeness so Stepfordian that one who has a sharp social immune system would want to suffocate themselves with a handknit lasso.

“We miss you, bro,” Paul interjects. I notice his voice has changed, growly when it used to be grizzly. His rugged exterior certainly has not, but he has lost weight not massively but enough. Certainly better than it used to be. “We always meet up and talk about you in our stories. You're never far and away from all the good memories. Me and Mara had been living in Barcelona for some time, just doing our things here and there, you know.” He takes a sip of pale ale and taps it gently back to the table. “What have you been up to then, lately?”

I loathe these personal questions, because we all know there really is not much to tell save for the occasional heartbreaks and torturous nothingness. Compared to the rest of others, at this moment I felt quite left behind. I would have ridden in their coattails if they had asked me to post-graduation, but nobody ever dared to. After that debacle of our final performances, we kind of just drifted apart in many ways. So many things had happened since then, and I felt like life kind of just passed me by so quickly.

“Not much, aside from the occasional writing here and there, making ends meet,” Paul could tell I was being cagey about it.

“No family? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?” he paused and just as I was about to answer, he had to throw a rapidfire question which I did not anticipate and was hoping no one would remember. It was a question that soured my palate. “Wait, what happened to that girl you brought once to the lower year’s final performances who was pregnant?”

I remember telling Giulia and Niamh about it back then, but I never remember meeting with Paul about her, the girl. It was a conversation I did not want to tread. “It’s a long story... I personally have no idea how to begin talking about it.”

But Paul, oh Paul, his tactlessness surprises even the smartest cat. He had always been quite tame and apologetic before, but his audacity has increased tenfold since then. I guess spending much time with Mara has changed the man, when the next thing he does is ask me the most audacious question I have heard someone ask me in years, “You have a child then though, right?”

My face flushes with terror as many voices come swirling in and out of my orifices, now unleashed by a single stroke. The light from my kindness is neutered once again. Nothing is ever sacred. This right here is precisely why I hate hanging out with people.