It Only Takes 19 Years

There’s always a first time. For everything. For good things and bad things. For things we care about and for things we don’t give a shit about. For things we’ve been anticipating forever and for things we prayed would never happen to us.

 

Howard didn’t remember all of his first times. Just like every other mortal human he forgot about some of them, sometimes due to the passing of time, sometimes on purpose and with the help of alcohol or other drugs. And then there were a couple of first times Howard kept precious in his memory, like his first day in school, and the first time he kissed a girl, and the first time he drove a car, and the first time he had sex. But there were no first-times-memories anywhere half as near to his heart, anywhere half as vivid, and half as often recapitulated than his first times with Jason.

 

Howard knew, that the memory of the first time he filled up a car while Jason was waiting on the driver’s seat (somehow trying to keep over-excited Rob and Mark from accidentally knocking out lost-in-a-note-sheet Gary) was not a landmark of history. And of course he knew, that he was very probably the only bloke on the planet who exactly knew date and time of the first time he saw someone blow his nose (September, 14th, 1990, 4:47 p.m.). And most certainly Howard was fully aware, that it is not a sign of good mental health to be able to fully render everything Jason had said the first time the two of them were alone in a filthy room in a shabby B&B. And these were only the tip of the iceberg of his first-time-Jason-memories. Lashings of first times were still safely hidden underneath the waterline of the deep ocean that was Howard's memory.


 

But what could he do? These first times were burnt into his memory, even if he wanted to forget them, he possibly couldn’t. God knows, there were times he tried to. But no matter how much he drank, smoked or numbed his mind with loud music or pretty girls – whenever he woke up from any of these orgies, the memories were still there. No matter how many times he would yell at them to bugger off, they never left him.

 

So at some point of his life Howard surrendered and stopped fighting them. Instead he started asking himself why they haunted him. Only to figure out that they didn’t really haunt him. Because if he was honest, he liked recapitulating them. He did it whenever he could. Not always in the most adequate situations, though. In fact, he could drive Gary off the wall with nearly dozing off into dreamland when they were on the promotional treadmill. Sure, publicly Gary would blame Howard’s shyness and tell people that he just hated giving interviews and started daydreaming in them. But when they were alone, he told him off, said he had enough of his ‘Jay-dreaming’. “Get a grip, mate! Christ!”

 

Mark didn’t mind at all about it. He thought it was cute and lovely and he always gave Howard a little affectionate pad on the shoulder or the arm or the butt. And when Robbie came back, he amusedly noticed that this was still happening and grinned at him like the Cheshire cat, with that annoying knowing look in his eyes. “Still, eh?”

 

And Jason? Completely oblivious, of course. The Lord alone knew where this man had his head. Seriously, someone who spent so much time thinking should get it at some point, shouldn’t he? But he didn’t. He swaggered through his world, his head in the clouds and his feet on the ground, eventually making handstands or spinning on his head to change perspective, but still not getting anywhere. Circling around himself, pretty, charming, utterly adorable, but completely useless. Over-thinking the world’s problems and 5000 years of history, but never once noticing that Howard’s odd behaviour might have something to do with him. Sticking his nose into every book that wasn’t up the shelve fast enough, but never once reading in between Howard’s lines. Tidying his CDs alphabetically, but never once sorting Howard out.

 

Howard, however, came to the conclusion that there was a reason why they couldn’t get started and in his humble opinion it was, because they were both not really fit for life. Jason needed to get his stuff together and he wasn’t quite there yet. And Howard needed someone who had his stuff together in order for him to not fall apart. Together they’d be a debacle, a catastrophe, an armageddon. It would all end in tears.

 

He was quite proud of that conclusion, so proud in fact that he told the others (well, except for Jason, that was). It didn’t earn him half the reaction he had hoped for. Gary rolled his eyes indignantly and told him frankly what he thought: "Utter rubbish." Mark nodded thoughtfully, smiled softly and said he should try again. Robbie attempted to let him know he was a twat (it was hard to understand in between the fits of laughter, but Howard was almost sure he heard the words “you” and “twat”).

 

What Howard didn’t know was that Jason also had first times on his mind. Unlike Howard’s they were not the kind of first times that made Jason smile, though. Basically, because he’d got them all wrong. There was the first time Jason had stripped off his shirt during rehearsals and Howard had turned and left the room. Jason thought Howard was unimpressed and started working out on his biceps and triceps like a maniac. Howard stood outside gasping for air. Then there was the first time Howard had opted to share a room with Gary rather than with Jason. Jason didn’t sleep at all that night, tossing and turning and wondering what Gary had that he hadn’t. Howard didn’t sleep much either, but at least he didn’t have to take a cold shower in the middle of the night or needed to bite his lip and try and find yet another way of hiding his erection. And then there was the first time Jason saw Howard wanking – the ever famous wanking competition in the back of the tour bus. Jason was devastated that even annoying little Robbie outshone him (it’s always the darn singers!) and had to get out of the goddamn bus. It was an all too easy win for Robbie after Jason had left, but being a perfect gentleman he refused to accept the 10 quid from Howard. Howard frowned and kept his money.


 

None of this Howard guessed. He had no idea that he wasn’t the only one keeping first-times-memories precious, until…until that day they flew to New York. Just the two of them, Mark and Gaz had left a couple of days earlier. Howard wasn’t too keen on this journey, he was edgy about meeting Robbie and nervous about being so close to Jason on this long flight. Surprisingly enough, Jason for once was calm and content and all smiles, and he gladly offered Howard the window seat and he sat down next to him and in all seriousness had the nerve to start reading his fucking book. Howard snapped and as some kind of weird punishment for Jason, he angrily stared out of the window. (Hah! Take that, bastard!)Not that Jason took much notice of this, since he was happily reading his darn, shitty book. And then Jason stood up and left for the loo and his book lay abandoned on his seat and Howard could’ve sworn it was grimacing at him, winding him up with its sheer presence and doing a little happy dance of superiority. (Sure, because that’s what books do, isn’t it?) Howard got immensly angry with the annoying behaviour of the flippin’ book and the fact that he couldn’t just throw it out of the window (‘cause that’s what it deserved, really, wasn’t it?). So with trembling fingers he prepared to stuff it into the seat bag, just to get it out of his sight. (Effin’ book, getting all of Jason’s attention!) The book didn’t think for a minute to surrender that easily, somehow it twisted its way out of Howard’s hands (nothing to do with his trembling, of course, all the book’s fault!) and fell to the ground with a loud thud (seriously, just how heavy can one book be?), baring the open pages 437 and 438, while the bookmark that had been resting in between said pages softly sailed through the air like a parachute. The grace of the flying bookmark in the light aircon breeze calmed Howard down and at some point of its slow fall downwards, he grabbed it out of the air. Something about that little piece of paper made him curious and he took a closer look only to find it was…his telephone number from back in the day, when he had still lived with his Mum, scribbled down in his own handwriting. (What the fuck?!) Jason had added “Howard” above it in neat and tidy letters. (Blimey!) Howard remembered that day back in Nigel’s office when he had written this note. “Call me anytime!” he had said to Jason and then their hands had touched briefly and it had been like a slight electrical shock, but not in a bad way. The first time he’d given Jason his telephone number. Many more of these notes were to follow over the years, but this was the first one. And he’d kept it. All those years! Howard felt his blood pumping through his venes and he shivered of excitement. And guilt. Not just for being cruel to the book and having read Jason’s bookmark. He felt guilty, because there had been another half of the same sheet of paper once, the one on which Jason had written down his number for him. Howard had no idea what had happened to it or where it was now. He’d probably lost it, or maybe it was tucked in one of his old diaries, somewhere in some box in the attic. However, he had not kept it precious, not like Jason had.

 

Howard sat in silence, only surrounded by the monotone, piping noise the plane caused, the bookmark in hands, lost in his thoughts, trying to sort them, trying to get some order into that new perspective that had just opened its gates for him. He didn’t notice the frail figure standing in the aisle, looking down on him, then elegantly bending to pick up the book from the floor and slowly sitting down next to him again. For a little while neither of them spoke. They couldn’t possibly, both of them convinced that their voices couldn’t be heard over the sound of their beating hearts. Howard couldn’t string together a single thought in order to say something clever. And Jason was busy telling his heart to stop pounding against his ribcage. Howard tried to breathe. Jason tried not to blush. Howard tried to sit still. Jason couldn’t move. Howard wanted to curse. Jason felt like crying. Howard swallowed hard. Jason bit his lip. Howard wanted to run. Jason wished he could be somewhere else instead.

 

“Erm, your book fell to the ground.”

“Thank you.”

 

Yes. Nowt better than some clever conversation in order to clear an awkward situation. Howard cringed. Jason hoped the seat would swallow him.

 

“Do you want to put it back in?”

“Uhm?!”

“The…bookmark?”

“Oh! The bookmark. Yeah. I mean, no. I don’t know where it was anyway.”

 

Even better. Cringeworthy conversation without eye contact. Brilliant.

 

“You don’t want it back then?”

“I’ll find something else to stick between the pages.”

“Oh, so you just replace it like that?”

“Uhmm, yes?”

“After you kept it for 20 years?!?”

“I didn’t keep it for 20 years!”

“Oh, no?! And how did it get into your book? Did a time machine land in your lounge and spit it out?!”

“No need to be sarcastic. It’s only a bookmark.”

“It’s only….?! It’s a twenty-year-old bookmark!”

“19 years to be precise.”

“Oh, right, so I’m not allowed to be sarcastic but you’re allowed to be PRECISE, eh?!”

“What’s wrong with being precise?!”

“EVERYTHING!”

“Oh, this is SILLY!”

“YOU are silly!”

“And YOU are PATHETIC!”

 

Oh, wonderful! The cherry on top of the icing of the cake of crisis intervention negotiations: mix wrong logic with a useless argument and be as ill-founded as possible while doing so. Well, at least there had been eye contact. Piercing blue eyes met piercing blue eyes. Sparkle. Anger. Hurt. Rumble in the stomach.

 

For the rest of the flight they remained silent. Ceasefire. One word to describe the rest of the flight, the rest of the afternoon, the rest of the day: unpleasant.

 

Hours later in New York the other three shrugged their shoulders and left for karaoke and a couple of drinks. “It’s about time you sorted this out, mate”, Gary let Howard know. Mark nodded. Rob nodded, too. Rob? “Eh, plonker, you’ve only just returned, what do you know?” Robbie grinned, the way only Robbie grins, and started singing and swaying “Everything changes but you…” Then Jason returned from the loo and like so very often in this band he was wondering what the hell was going on.

 

That night, though, they follow Gary’s advice and sort things out. A knock on the door and first Jason is reluctant to open. But then, he can’t possibly shut Howard out. He has never done that, has he?

 

Howard starts. “Uhm, I’m sorry for today. I don’t know what…well…”

Jason’s trying to be helpful. “Aww, don’t worry, mate. What was it all about anyway?”

“A 20-year-old piece of paper?” Howard dares a slight grin.

“19 years old…”

“Watch it, Orange, watch it!”

But Jason doesn’t always take good advice. “Well, 19 years, 6 months and 14 days to be exact. And 4 hours and…” The kiss shuts him up. Howard’s lips on his, demanding, thrilling, loving, and a little bit angry. All those lost years. It tastes good. All those years. 19 years. A long way for a first time. It all doesn’t exactly happen the way Howard had imagined it in his dreams, and it’s not exactly the way Jason had always thought it would be either, but it’s still good. Brilliant. Fucking amazing.

 

It might take 19 years. But it’s never too late for a first time.