Hello Friend We Missed You

Hill looks at the list of items on Roger’s most recent weekly shopping list, mundane items mixed in with his latest whims and obsessions. Hill sighs as he pushes the trolley towards the fruit and vegetable aisle and chooses four loose carrots, four loose red onions, and two large potatoes. Hill looks again at the list and sees that Roger has written something indecipherable next to ‘porridge’. Hill crumples the list, puts it back in his trouser pocket, and pushes the trolley towards the alcohol aisle.

Aimlessly staring at the craft beer section, Hill hears a distantly familiar voice. Listening for a moment Hill realises it is Stuart Penry, loosely speaking a friend from school. Hill and Stuart’s friendship arc could be assessed as:

Year Seven: Great mates, inseparable, football, table tennis.

Year Eight: Great mates, inseparable, football, table tennis.

Year Nine: Great mates, Hill listened to Ready To Die on repeat, Stuart listened to Ocean Drive on repeat.

Year Ten: Mates, Hill experimented with right-wing politics, Stuart experimented with girls and listened to Ocean Drive on repeat.

Year Eleven: Mates/Non-Mates, Hill looked at the internet, Stuart had sex with girls and listened to Ocean Drive on repeat.

Year Twelve: Non-Mates, Hill read Empire, Stuart fell in love with the head girl and listened to Ocean Drive on repeat.

Year Thirteen: Non-Mates, Hill read Sight & Sound, Stuart fell in love with the new head girl and listened to Ocean Drive on repeat.

Continue looking at beer, Hill thinks.

Shitty names for these beers, Hill thinks.

Looking straight ahead, Hill picks up and scans the labels of every single bottle of beer in the craft section. He can still hear Stuart’s voice, a peculiarly generic placeless drone, like a voiceover from a toothpaste advert.

He’s seen me and is waiting for me to do something, Hill thinks.

Take control, Hill thinks.

Hill turns to speak to Stuart but sees that Stuart’s back is to him and he is talking on a mobile. Stuart still seems in good shape physically, apart from a prominent bald patch around the crown of his head. Hill smiles and feels good about himself and his full head of hair. He thinks it strange that Stuart hasn’t shaved his head, that he is happy to have such a glaringly obvious bald patch. He thinks it strange that Stuart has never been on any social media and revisits a long-held theory that Stuart took that stance to avoid the awkwardness that would arise when it came to their relationship.

Am I a delusional human being, Hill thinks.

Hill considers how he could just leave, how Stuart would never know he had been there, how he could walk away victorious and tell Roger that his old friend Stuart was a balding loser with shitty prospects and no online presence.

Full head of hair delusion syndrome, Hill thinks.

Pick up some beer and walk away, Hill thinks.

Hill picks up the beer and looks at the illustration on the bottle of a steampunk surf-pirate. Hill would only buy craft beer with other people’s money, in this instance Roger’s. The inheritance he received from his mother was still enough to last him a couple of years if he was careful. He had enough for rent on the studio, utilities, food, generic brand supermarket lager. At first, he enjoyed living like this. In the aftermath of Lucy dying, he found the inflexible routine of having a small, fixed budget a great comfort. Time spent looking for cheap products, walking from supermarket to supermarket; the hours spent slowly drinking Tesco French lager whilst staring at the studio walls all seemed like a consistent, balanced existence.

Nothing bad happens when nothing happens, Hill thinks.

Pick up the beer and leave, Hill thinks.

Hill crouches down to pick up a reduced four pack of Tiny Rebel and feels a hand on his shoulder. He twists his head to look up and sees Stuart’s face looking back at him. Hill feels his heart rate increase exponentially, instinctively pressing his hand against his chest.

Oh God, Hill thinks.

Bloody cheapskate, Stuart says, motioning at the bottles of Tiny Rebel.

Hi Stu—, Hill says.

Are you shorter than you used to be? You look small, Stuart says.

I think I’m probably the same height, Hill says.

Hill looks at Stuart’s shopping basket; a copy of Top Marques magazine and a large discounted pork pie, both partially obscured by several pouches of Strait Salt.

For a casual supper we’re hosting tomorrow, Stuart says. Best accompanied with a few cheeky shots of Due Vittorie I find.

Did you go to the seafood festival last week? Hill says.

After a long pause, Stuart looks at his watch and says he has to get home to his wife and kids. He takes his phone out of his trouser pocket and suggests he and Hill swap numbers.

Great, Hill says.

Why, Hill thinks.

Hill stands and watches as Stuart uses Siri to register Hill as a new contact.

Hill from school, Stuart says.

‘Hill from school’, Hill thinks.