ROB, YOU MADE MY DAY ! (again)
I'm at home, making a tape of some old singles, when the phone goes.
"Hi. Is that Rob?"
I recognize the voice as belonging to someone I don't like, but I don't get any further than that.
"This is Ian. Ray."
I don't say anything.
"I thought maybe we should have a chat? Sort a couple of things out?"
This is... something.. gone mad. Blank gone mad. You know when people use that expression to communicate the fact that something OK has got right out of control. 'This is democracy gone mad.' Well, I want to use that expression, but I'm not sure what the something is. North London? Life? The nineties? I don't know. All I do know is that in a decent, sane society, Ian wouldn't be ringing me up to sort a couple of things out. I'd be sorting him out, and if he wants to be eating dungarees for a week, he's going the right way about it.
"What needs sorting out?" I'm so angry my voice is shaky, like it used to be when I was on the verge of a fight at school, and consequently I don't sound angry at all: I sound scared.
"Come on, Rob. My relationship with Laura has obviously disturbed you a great deal."
"Funnily enough I haven't been too thrilled about it." Sharp and clear.
"We're not talking joky understatement here, Rob. We're talking harassment. Ten phone calls a night, hanging round outside my house..."
Fucking hell. How did he see that?
"Yeah, well I've stopped all that now." Sharp and clear has gone; now I'm sort of mumbling, like a mad guilty person.
"We've noticed, and we're glad. But, you know.. how are we going to make the peace here? We want to make things easier to you. What can we do? Obviously I know how special Laura is, and I know things can't be too good for you at the moment. I'd hate it if I lost her. But I'd like to think that if she decided she didn't want to see me anymore, I'd respect that decision. D'you see what I'm saying?"
"Yeah."
"Good. So how shall we leave it then?"
"Dunno." And then I put the phone down - not on a smart, crushing one-liner, or after a raging torrent of abuse, but on a 'dunno'. That's taught him a lesson he won't forget.
HIM: Good. So how shall we leave it then?
ME: I've already left it, you pathetic little twerp. Liz is quite right about you. [Slams receiver down.]
HIM: Good. So how shall we leave it then?
ME: We won't leave it, Ian. Or at least, I won't. I'd change your phone number, if I were you. I'd change you address. One day soon you'll look back on one visit to the house and ten phone calls a night as a golden age. Watch your step, boy. [Slams receiver down.]
HIM: But I'd like to think that if she decided she didn't want to see me anymore, I'd respect that decision.
ME: If she decided she didn't want to see you anymore, I'd respect that decision. I'd respect her. Her friends would respect her. Everybody would cheer. The world would be a better place.
HIM: This is Ian. Ray.
ME: Fuck off. [Slams receiver down.]
Oh, well.
Oh well, nothing. I should have said any of those things. I should have used at least one obscenity. I should certainly have threatened him with violence. I shouldn't have hung up on a 'dunno'. These things are going to eat away at me and eat away at me and I'm going to drop dead of cancer or heart disease or something. And I shake and shake, and rewrite the script in my head until it's 100% poison, and none of it helps at all.
"Hi. Is that Rob?"
I recognize the voice as belonging to someone I don't like, but I don't get any further than that.
"This is Ian. Ray."
I don't say anything.
"I thought maybe we should have a chat? Sort a couple of things out?"
This is... something.. gone mad. Blank gone mad. You know when people use that expression to communicate the fact that something OK has got right out of control. 'This is democracy gone mad.' Well, I want to use that expression, but I'm not sure what the something is. North London? Life? The nineties? I don't know. All I do know is that in a decent, sane society, Ian wouldn't be ringing me up to sort a couple of things out. I'd be sorting him out, and if he wants to be eating dungarees for a week, he's going the right way about it.
"What needs sorting out?" I'm so angry my voice is shaky, like it used to be when I was on the verge of a fight at school, and consequently I don't sound angry at all: I sound scared.
"Come on, Rob. My relationship with Laura has obviously disturbed you a great deal."
"Funnily enough I haven't been too thrilled about it." Sharp and clear.
"We're not talking joky understatement here, Rob. We're talking harassment. Ten phone calls a night, hanging round outside my house..."
Fucking hell. How did he see that?
"Yeah, well I've stopped all that now." Sharp and clear has gone; now I'm sort of mumbling, like a mad guilty person.
"We've noticed, and we're glad. But, you know.. how are we going to make the peace here? We want to make things easier to you. What can we do? Obviously I know how special Laura is, and I know things can't be too good for you at the moment. I'd hate it if I lost her. But I'd like to think that if she decided she didn't want to see me anymore, I'd respect that decision. D'you see what I'm saying?"
"Yeah."
"Good. So how shall we leave it then?"
"Dunno." And then I put the phone down - not on a smart, crushing one-liner, or after a raging torrent of abuse, but on a 'dunno'. That's taught him a lesson he won't forget.
HIM: Good. So how shall we leave it then?
ME: I've already left it, you pathetic little twerp. Liz is quite right about you. [Slams receiver down.]
HIM: Good. So how shall we leave it then?
ME: We won't leave it, Ian. Or at least, I won't. I'd change your phone number, if I were you. I'd change you address. One day soon you'll look back on one visit to the house and ten phone calls a night as a golden age. Watch your step, boy. [Slams receiver down.]
HIM: But I'd like to think that if she decided she didn't want to see me anymore, I'd respect that decision.
ME: If she decided she didn't want to see you anymore, I'd respect that decision. I'd respect her. Her friends would respect her. Everybody would cheer. The world would be a better place.
HIM: This is Ian. Ray.
ME: Fuck off. [Slams receiver down.]
Oh, well.
Oh well, nothing. I should have said any of those things. I should have used at least one obscenity. I should certainly have threatened him with violence. I shouldn't have hung up on a 'dunno'. These things are going to eat away at me and eat away at me and I'm going to drop dead of cancer or heart disease or something. And I shake and shake, and rewrite the script in my head until it's 100% poison, and none of it helps at all.