Elizabeth

I called her from my parents’ bedroom, overlooking the street. ‘Hi. I just wanted to thank you for that letter you wrote for me, a template for asking her out. That was so kind.’
‘How did it go?’
‘It didn’t. I mean, she was all very nice about it, but it turns out, she’s already got a boyfriend. I didn’t know. Ack!’
‘Ack indeed. I heard she’s had hundreds…’
‘Well, she is gorgeous, but I didn’t know her that well. I just… saw her with friends a lot.’
‘I read those poems you wrote about her. They were… interesting.’
‘Thanks. I suppose they were a bit idealised. I wrote some more that weren’t quite as idealistic, in the aftermath. The sad thing is, she seemed to think I wanted to prise her away from this boyfriend, which I didn’t even know she had… “I thought you knew,” she wrote, “like everyone else, I have been going out with an old friend since Easter.” I mean… I’m sorry, but she just assumed she was the centre of everyone’s world… I mean, how would I know?’
‘Oh, it’s hard. I know… you wouldn’t do anything wrong… I think you’re a very, very good person.’ Silence.
‘Really? Thank you.’
‘Oh yes. I remember asking you about guitar practice. I was sure you could be good enough for that show we were involved in, if you really really practised…’
‘Thanks. It means a lot to have someone believe in me, like that. Even though I’d just bought that guitar, and couldn’t tell an A from a G string…’
‘I’m sure you’d be brilliant at anything you tried.’
‘Remind me to tell you about my attempts at swimming, horse-riding, tree-climbing…’
‘Well what do they matter? You’re still your own man.’
‘Liz. About tonight. Are you free to meet up?’