Boys Don't Cry

We'd known for months Calvin was leaving. I mean, it had been on the cards for years that he was going to move back to Canada, but back then it had been more...well, hypothetical. There was no actual date in mind, and more recently Calvin had speculated at some date in the next few years. Plenty of time away.

Then circumstances changed, Calvin got made redundant -- for, what, the second time in like 3 years or something? -- and everything got moved ahead of schedule. In just a few months it went from being a date in some unknown future, to a concrete reality. But I have an knack of being unable to really grasp major things until they are actually happening -- they don't seem real. I'd like to say that's why I never really studied as much as I should have in the past, because I couldn't quite make the link in my head from that to my future. When I was going to Utah, I only started to pack the night before I left.

Months became weeks, and soon the weeks were dwindling away. A group of us went out last weekend as a farewell dinner for Calvin, something I had originally been organising as a belated birthday meal for me -- which funnily enough had been originally planned for Jongleurs in Camden town, which is only "funnily enough" if you know that last Saturday night Camden market burned down. The meal itself was good, despite some dramas that I don't want to relive by documenting here, but even though that was a farewell it still didn't seem altogether real. I gave Calvin a photo album/scrap book we had bought him, so that he could put in pictures of his old friends and whatever else he desired. And still, I thought someone might still turn the lights up and everyone would say "Surprise! It's all a big joke, he's not going anywhere!" -- although how that would have worked for anyone I don't know. Besides, the time had come and Calvin wanted to go. Real hockey, cute Canadian girls and proper weather all awaited him.

Last night was his last night in town. Much like any other Friday night we all went to the pub, but where I'd objected to going on nights like Christmas eve, last night it felt right. Going anywhere else just wouldn't have been the same -- it was like a ritual. So we went to the pub and drank and talked and laughed like any other night -- while I also tried to get my friends to sign a card I had bought for Calvin. It wasn't easy -- I'd already got several people to sign it during the week, but a few still remained on the night. I didn't manage the subtle part very well, but I think Calvin appreciated the gesture all the same.

At the end of the night, Calvin drove us home and I was the last one left, sitting in the back on my own, when we got to my house. It wasn't goodnight so much as goodbye, and I just didn't know what to say to really sum it up properly. We chatted for a few minutes, until I said that I had to go inside or else I was going to end up crying. We said so long, see you later, and I went upstairs. As I sat trying to compose in an SMS the words that eluded me in his card and in person, my phone buzzed with a message from Calvin. He called me a bastard for making him cry, said he'd just about been keeping it together until then. Good to know I wasn't being over sentimental. I reminded him of the good times we'd had celebrating Canada Day (even with this year's terror scares), the jazz club in Soho and countless nights playing pool -- even playing pool on Christmas Eve one year -- and that I'd see him when he's back in July.

It's not going to be the same, but here's raising a glass to new horizons and new adventures.