Wish You Were Here

"Hi Ades," I said, speaking to Adrienne into the phone.

"Jules! Oh my god! What have you and Clive been up to? It's been so long since we've seen you, the longest ever. Billie and I were just talking about you the other day. You didn't get out at all on the tour this time; I've never known you miss so many of their shows."

"I know, listen Ades, I have something to tell you. It's Clive and me."

"What? No way, please don't tell me that you have split up," said Adi. I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

"We have," I said cautiously.

"Fucking hell, Jules, you were meant to be getting married in two months. I was going to go out tomorrow and buy myself an outfit, shit. What happened?"

I could just see her twirling one of her dark tendrils round her finger as she always did when on the phone. "Oh, the usual," I said, not really wanting to talk about it.

"What you mean, you got cold feet again?" said Adrienne. How many times had I broken this news to her? Three at least.

"Something like that; he wasn't right for me," I said.

"Oh Jules, who the hell is right for you?" she said. "Have you told Tre yet? He was only talking about you yesterday, saying that he hasn't seen you in, well 'fucking ages' were his very own words."

"I know and...no, I haven't told him yet."

"Why?" she asked. Yeah, why indeed.

"I'm scared to," I said, and I was.

"What do you mean, scared?" said Adi. "This is Tre here."

"Well you know how he goes on, says I can never find someone to settle down with, and then when I do find someone and it ends, he, well, I think he gets pissed off with me. He didn't like Clive much, anyway, did he?"

"He never seems to like anybody that you go out with for some reason," said Adi.

"I guessed he didn't like Clive after the first night I introduced them, and he was like 'who the fuck is called Clive these days.'" I said, half laughing. "Look Adi, I'm coming home." There, I'd said it.

"Back to California, you mean?" said Adi.

"Yeah, I've had it with Scotland; I know its where I'm from and I have some family here, but...I now see California as my home."

"About time you came to your senses," laughed Adi. "Listen, we're seeing Tre later, should I say something to him about you and Clive?"

"No, leave it. I've got a flight booked tomorrow, so I'll be seeing him then," I said. I couldn't wait to get back.

"Great, and make sure you come round here, I can't wait to see you; I've missed our nights out. It's not the same texting and phoning, especially with the time difference," she said.

"Yeah, I can't wait Adi, I've missed you and the kids; they've probably forgotten me by now."

"Don't be so stupid. How could they forget you? You're their wonderful Aunt Jules, and don't you worry about Tre, Jules; don't you worry about telling him. He is your oldest and best friend, after all."

"I know he is; anyway, I shall see you tomorrow, Ades."

--

I laid back on the bed, looking out towards the loch. It was beautiful here, but I needed to get away. Clive had gone to stay with his mother, and I needed to sort my stuff and to just get away from here. It was over and had been over for a long time. Fuck it. Why couldn't I just have realized sooner? I sort of cared for Clive but...he just wasn't my type and moving back here to Scotland with him a year ago had proved it. I'd broken his heart, and I needed to just get out. I hated myself so much at the moment.

I glanced over at my bags piled up over by the door, waiting to be picked up first thing in the morning so that I could head off to Glasgow airport and home. Home to where my friends were. I smiled then, thinking of Tre. He was my best friend in the entire world; I had known him for so long now, and yet when it came to my love life, we disagreed. He said I fell in love too quickly; I'd been engaged three times now, yeah three. But this was the closest I'd come to actually getting to the altar. Tre was going to be my 'matron of honour' even. We'd laughed about it. I'd not seen him for ages but had talked often, e-mailed, text, but had not seen each other.

I pulled out my iPod and scrolled around looking for the song. I'd not played it in absolutely ages. It was our song, mine and Tre's. We loved it and always sung it together. We'd sung it drunk, sober, over the phone to each other, and we always got louder at the words "... two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year... " as if trying to outdo each other. There it was: Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here". I'd missed hearing it.

Jules fell asleep, listening to their song and remembering when they first met... .

...1982-Mendocino hills

Jules really didn't want to go to America at all, but she knew she had to with her father's job. She loved it in Scotland, had so many friends, but when her dad had got offered this job, everyone was so excited; it was an opportunity that couldn't be missed, apparently. All her friends had said they'd love to go to America and were jealous of her, but she didn't want to go, and the real reason was she was going to have to leave behind Scotty, her little dog. She'd had him since she was four, and he was six now, and he was going to live with her grandparents. She loved walking him, just her and him together, wandering about the hills and lakes. He was her pal and now...

...well now, here I am, in some hills fairly near to San Francisco, and it looked like the middle of nowhere. On the drive up the mountain, I had felt sick. There were hardly any houses about, just one or two dotted here and there, and I knew I was going to be bored stiff.

I'd unpacked some stuff when Mum suggested I go and explore the place.

"If you go down a little further, there is a beautiful lake with a couple of houses; maybe there will be some kids your own age," she'd said. Yeah, more like a couple of old gits with fishing rods and check shirts. Fucking hell, what were we doing here?

I remembered walking down to the lake and hearing a noise' it was a banging and tapping kind of a noise with barking and laughter. Then I saw this kid of about the same age as me with mousey, floppy hair. He was playing with a Labrador puppy and had set up some kind of makeshift instrument. He was banging a few sticks onto boxes and, logs trying to make some sounds.

I stood there for a while, then for some reason, he turned round and looked at me. His eyes were blue, the same blue as the lake, I remembered thinking, and then he spoke.

"Hi," he said in his American accent. "Have you and your family bought the old Miller place?" he said.

"I think so," I said but not really sure who we had bought the house from. I decided then to head down the slope towards him. His dog jumped up at me and started licking at my face. It tickled me, and I bent and ruffled his ears and read the name on his tag. Jip

"Hi Jip," I said, bending to him.

"Hey, what kind of accent is that?" the boy called over to me.

"It's a Scottish accent," I said, looking at him.

"Oh...so you've come all the way from bonny Scotland, have you?" said the boy, trying to do a Scottish accent but really crappily. "Do you wear a kilt?" he said, smiling. He had this crooked, toothy smile. He seemed friendly enough, but he wouldn't have fitted in at all in Scotland. He was too smiley; all the boys there were miserable as hell. I'd not seen many boys smiley and nice before. They all seemed moody.

"No, we don't wear kilts, though my dad has one; and it only comes out on special occasions like a wedding," I said, still ruffling at Jip's ears and glad of the excuse to have Jip next to me. I didn't want to keep staring at this boy.

"What's your name?" he said. "Would it happen to be Mac something or other?" he smiled again.

"Yes, my name is Julie MacDonald," I said proudly.

"Well Julie Macdonald, had any good burgers lately? Are you related to Ronald MacDonald at all? Anyway, I'm Tre," he said, smiling away.

"As in tea tray," I said to him, looking up. Jip was nuzzling away at my hand, desperate for more of the same affection he had been getting.

He laughed again. "No. Tre as in 'very' in French."

"Very what?" I asked. What on earth was this kid going on about? He was a loon.

"Very cool," he answered. He had started playing with a knife and some wood, and I hoped he wasn't going to cut himself. There was nobody around to help. I would be of no help as I couldn't stand the sight of blood.

"So what's your surname?" I said, eyeing the knife. God, why was he playing with a knife? Maybe they did that sort of thing here.

"It's Cool," he said not looking up. Knives made me nervous.

"Yeah, it may be cool," I said, "but what is it?"

"No, it's COOL. C-O-O-L. Tre Cool," he said impatiently, shaving away at the stick with his knife and not even looking at what he was doing.

Weird, I thought, and he must have realised what I've been thinking as I didn't answer him.

"Anyway, it's not my real name, that's Frank Edwin Wright III," he said.

"Oh, that's a long name; I think I prefer the Tre one," I said to him. Jip had gone over to sit with him, and I felt sort of alone and conscious but didn't want to leave for some reason. He seemed good company.

...and that was how we'd met, and now I was going to see him tomorrow and have to explain once again that I was single. He was going to take the piss, big time.