Even though we never kept in close contact all that much, it seems so strange now that he's gone and I can't talk to him. Knowing that he's in Tokyo, probably drunk and jet-lagged, carrying a small fortune in Japanese Yen in cash on him. Or by now on (in? what's correct) some kind of orientation, where he will be saying moshimatsu in his thick Northern accent.
Who in Japan will ever tell him that Hull is grim and smells like fish? Who will beat to death the same joke about fish over and over again, and still make him laugh?
I worry about him out there, all on his own. I know he can take care of himself, he -- like me -- took himself around the USA one summer and lived and worked in New Orleans for a while without knowing anyone. Just the same, I worry how he will cope if his depression comes down on him and he realises that he's an 11-hour flight away from home, knows nobody and can barely speak the language. Maybe he will luck out and run into Scarlett Johansson while in Tokyo (like he said he was going to do).
Tom was a wholly different person on Saturday to the depressed, subdued guy who had stayed with me in Leicester shortly before I left. I don't know precisely what prompted the change, just as I was never really clear on what had got him so depressed to begin with. I give credit to a girl named Kim that was on the Jet program like him, and whom he'd met on the interview day in London. I won't divulge details, but I'm sure she had a part to play in cheering him up when I couldn't.
Tom and I wandered around Camden market, and he found a retro shop and bought himself a pair of 1970s-style football shorts. Even though he said the seams would probably split if he tried to play football in them, he was pleased to find them and sent text messages to friends telling them of his great find. We then spent most of the afternoon drinking in a bar and talking, like old times.
I took him to the airport, we met his family and he checked his baggage and the representatives from the Jet program. And I hugged him goodbye, and made my way home.
Even though I have written how I am sick of feeling impermanent and that nowhere is my home and starting over all the time, I was envious of him. I might just sign up myself and go try teach English to kids in Japan. It would only need to be for a year -- which out of a lifetime is nothing. I can settle down later.
This is Tom:
Tom with his silly hair, playing with my digital camera. Currently speaking Japanese somewhere with a thick Northern accent...
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