More than just a pretty face - 20
It hadn’t been a satisfactory conclusion. Howard had been so shocked - and flattered - that the American girl, Diva, had come to party, that she had remembered Howard’s name, and that someone attractive and confident and not Vince should be interested in him, and as a result had managed to lose his head a bit. He hadn’t meant to ditch Vince, had been about to apologise, especially when Vince turned away, small and hurt and claiming he would never love again (Howard’s heart had cracked at that, though he had put on a brave face) until another young, pretty thing had walked into the backyard and Vince had assured Howard that everything was fine. Howard found out later that the girl had been no more than a friend of Vince’s who had come to find him in order to show off how well his latest wiglet looked on her.
And now the party was over, the horror that had been his... thirty-second... birthday, finally over and done with. There had been some up sides of course. The bouncy castle had actually been good fun and watching Vince breathless and exhilarated as they’d bounced had set Howard’s heart to racing despite himself. At one point, as half of Camden had clambered on to the bouncy castle with them, Vince had lost his footing, falling sideways with a flail of arms and flowing sleeves, and Howard had reached out instinctively to grab his hand. In the giddiness of it all they had held hands, joyful and carefree until Diva had bounced toward him, arms outstretched and smile inviting and Howard had let go of Vince in order to wrap his arms around her instead, excited by the press of her body against his, and yet unsettled as well, because it was wrong - she was wrong - not by any fault of her own but simply because she wasn’t Vince and he because had used her to prove something and by so doing had hurt them all.
Diva had yelled to him that the bouncy castle was the best idea ever and that Howard was a genius and he had looked past her in time to see Vince scowl deeply, his bouncing dropping in its enthusiasm as he frowned at such misplaced praise.
“No, no,” Howard told her hurriedly. “No this was all Vince’s idea. He planned it all. For my birthday.” Diva looked skeptical and Vince looked away, a blush staining his cheeks like nettle rash, but Howard continued on regardless. “It’s an interesting story, actually. You see, Vince had promised me a bouncy castle for my birthday the very year we met, told our whole class to come along to my birthday. I’m sure they would have been happy to attend without Vince’s sugar promises, I was quite a popular student really, had all sorts of nick names and songs dedicated to me,” he said with a nod and a grin, hoping that Vince wouldn’t choose that moment to pipe in with what those names had actually been. No one needed to hear a rendition of the ‘Loony Moony’ song, and certainly not on his birthday. “Vince had everyone in our class convinced that my birthday party would be the greatest our primary school had ever seen. When the big day came though... Vince and the fabled bouncy castle were nowhere to be found. My classmates jumped on me instead.”
Even by the standards of Howard’s stories it wasn’t a winner. There was no punchline, no twist. Howard had ended his birthday at the local hospital with a concussion and some very nasty bruises.
“I was there,” Vince burst out suddenly. “I did want to... I had it all planned. Mum was supposed to bring it, and...” his lip wobbled dramatically. “I said I was sorry,” he continued with a hint of a whine in his voice. “And I brought you them flowers at the hospital, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you stole those flowers from someone else’s room though, didn’t you?” Howard countered, not knowing why he was arguing, knowing that he should have gotten over the incident years ago, yet never had.
“I said I was sorry,” Vince repeated, now standing motionless as the bouncy castle heaved around him. “I had it all set, the whole thing, so’s you’d like me and be my friend and all. But my mum...”
With a muffled sob Vince fled the castle and the party, his hands pressed over his mouth to stop the distressed noises from drawing any further attention, even as his flowing sleeves turned every head he passed.
Howard went to follow him but was pulled back and fell to the floor of the bouncy castle as Diva tugged on his wrist.
“Don’t bother with him, Howard,” she said with a mixture of anger and annoyance. “He doesn’t really care about you. He set you up, asked me to come by the shop and see if I could sweet talk you into allowing the party because I look like your ex-girlfriend Amy, then asked me to spread the word that it was his party and not yours. He said no one would come if they knew it was for you. He doesn’t care about you. All he cares about is himself.”
Howard launched himself from the castle and was halfway across the yard before his brain registered exactly what Diva had told him. He turned back to her, trying to find the lie in her words but the anger and frustration were still written clearly on her face, as well as a good measure of pity. She was telling the truth and his heart dropped from his chest with such speed that he felt physically ill.
“It’s not like that,” he tried to tell her, but the words seemed to stick in his throat as he watched her walk toward him with more sympathy than he was sure he’d ever been faced with before. “Vince is just going through a really rough time at the moment, that’s all, but really he-”
“He pretends not to know you,” she countered. “Tells people you’re nothing more than a glorified stalker that he keeps around because it’s ‘cool’. He actually made it cool to have a stalker so that he could have an excuse for your existence! He uses you!”
“He needs me,” Howard said lamely, hating the truth she was speaking, and the volume she was speaking at. All eyes were on him and this was not the kind of attention he wanted from the crowd gathered for his so-called birthday party.
“Does he?” Diva asked him pityingly. “Or is it just you who needs him?”
“No,” Howard said into the silence of the backyard. No one was bouncing now, everyone was listening intently to what he would say next. “He needs me. Vince-”
“Vince uses you! He uses you, Howard. Because the truth is, Vince Noir is only cool when compared to you,” Diva shrugged. “Sorry, Howard.”
He chanced a glance up and saw a few of the partiers nod. Everyone looked vaguely uncomfortable at such a revelation and Howard wasn’t about to hang around and see what Diva might say next, no matter how accurate it might be, so turned on his heel and walked as swiftly as he could through the shop and the flat and up to Vince’s bedroom. They needed to talk, to actually talk, and he was determined to do it right this time. But, of course, when he opened Vince’s door, Vince was nowhere to be found.
An hour later Howard looked up from the tired trance he’d fallen into whilst waiting for Vince to return to see Naboo leaning against the door frame.
“This hasn’t really worked out according to plan, has it?” the tiny shaman lisped, his eyes surprisingly sharp for someone who’s turban was on such a jaunty angle and who smelt so suspicious, even from half a room away.
“No,” Howard agreed tiredly. “It hasn’t. I’m sorry, Naboo. I just can’t do this. I’ve tried and I’ve tried but I can’t keep it up. I can’t save Vince. I can’t save anyone. I’m the most forgettable man in history, I’m not cut out to be a hero.”
“You know what you’ve got to do.”
“No,” Howard said with more volume. “I can’t. Can’t you see, Naboo? Vince doesn’t want my help. He barely remembers who I am, most of the time, and when he does he’s apparently busy trying to pretend that he doesn’t know me at all! If I go back in there, back inside his body, his mind, his immune system will kill me before I even get to Amy, let alone figure out how to help him!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course Vince remembers who you are,” Naboo scoffed. “D’you know how intense a memory has to be for a person to remember it on a cellular level, Howard? And Vince’s cells did remember you, didn’t they?”
“Not straight away,” Howard pouted. “At first they wanted to melt me down in a bath of pain.”
“Yeah, but they did recognise you eventually, and that’s pretty significant, don’t you think? That Vince’s immune system, that his very being, remembered you?”
“Well, they remembered the pancakes,” Howard mumbled.
He could feel his resolve slipping already and cursed himself for being so easily influenced by those around him.
“Yeah, they remembered the pancakes,” Naboo agreed. “A memory so happy it’s imprinted on the very essence of who Vince is. That’s pretty fucking amazing, Howard. ‘s like muscle memory, or something, ain’t it? It’s why I knew you were the only one I could send in there the first time. And it’s why you need to get your pumpkin ass up on to that roof before I have to turn my back on you again. ‘Cos I don’t actually want to do that, believe it or not.”
“What? The roof? Why?”
“Cos Vince needs you, you ball bag. You promised Amy that you’d help him and you just ran away instead. Every single time.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had quiet a lot on, so-”
“Lies, lies, from tiny eyes. Now get up there and do what you should probably’ve done back at the arctic, or at least after Nanageddon.”
“Which is?”
Howard blinked at Naboo’s exasperated sigh. Now he definitely had no idea what Naboo was on about.
“Just get back on the roof, Howard and work it out. Me an’ Bollo are off to Saboo’s an’ won’t be back tonight, if you catch my meaning... which you obviously don’t.” He sighed again. “Poor Vince. Still, maybe you’ll just figure it out once you’re up there.”
“Figure what out?”
“It’s time to be a man of action, Howard,” Naboo just told him with a smirk, “I know you’ve got it in you.” And he padded softly out of the room before Howard could think of another question.
Howard sighed heavily. He should have thought to check the roof. Amy had told him that it was where Vince went to hide from the world and he suddenly wondered what it usually took to send Vince Noir into hiding. Everything was such a mess, a horrible tangle, like too many trumpets trying to take the solo and not listening to the beat. Howard had heard more than his fair share of bad jazz over the years (not that he’d ever admit it) and he knew how it felt when the music had gone wrong, when discord filled the air instead of sweet, smooth rhythms, and that was how he felt just now. And, he suspected, how Vince was feeling as well. He needed to fix it, but how was he to go about it?
“And Howard,” Naboo’s voice suddenly wafted through the still air of the flat. “The equipment’s all set up in the stockroom. I’ve made some modifications. Just point and click, yeah? Good luck.”
Oh, Howard thought. Right, that. It was probably time to just get it over with, even if it meant getting dissolved by Vince’s immune system or fried by his Braincell. Still, perhaps if he got Vince into the right frame of mind beforehand things would go a little more smoothly. With a sudden grin Howard climbed to his feet, hoping that they would still have the necessary ingredients after Naboo’s dubious baking that afternoon. Downstairs he could hear Naboo kicking out the last of the party goers, complaining that he could find Lester’s body but not his head, but eventually there was nothing but silence, and Howard walked out of Vince’s bedroom and in to the kitchen. The party was over, the horror that had been his... thirty-second... birthday, finally done with. And it was time to grow up. It was also time to make pancakes.