Mystic bit (July)

A somewhat dishevelled Paul was at Manchester airport terminal 3 to pick up his old mate Frankie. A dishevelled look was not unusual for Paul either a consequence of long hours on a stakeout or a night at Ms place where he refused to store any clothes – fearing it would signal a commitment that he did not yet want to make.

Frankie was coming home from Chicago and his plane was 2 hours late. The cappuccino that Paul had drunk had left a bitter taste in his mouth and already he was bored with the latest issue of Private Eye and with the overloud dull one sided conversation of a middle aged Yank at a nearby table. Paul never travelled with his computer or tablet. Often his work got a bit physical and in any case he left the fancy electronic side of his work to App in the Fuel Café.

Paul found himself musing on last night with M. A visit to Band on the Wall for some cool jazz had been an aural treat but the conversation back at Ms place had turned sour as she once more addressed his lack of commitment.
- The thing is Paul neither of us are getting any younger.
Paul shrugged, not wanting to encourage her.
- And sooner or later I need you to commit.
Paul nodded.
- Understood?
- Understood.
M sighed wearily and offered him a brandy.
- Best not, I’m picking Frankie up first thing at the airport.

Things went quiet, too quiet, and despite their physical closeness in bed there was a real distance between them. The trouble was Paul didn’t want to commit but nor did he want to lose M. It felt like a choice was being forced on him and he wondered what would Frankie say? He knew already ‘Keep it light, stick with your truth, be you, not what the other person wants.’ ’That’s all very well but what if I lose her?’ ‘You’ve lost her already if it means you’re giving up on you to be with her.’
- Oh shit!
An elderly woman sat nearby was startled by his profanity.
- Oops… sorry said Paul blushing. She smiled in return.