by Tom Butler
‘It doesn’t matter what I wear, it’s not going to change my grades. Well, is it?’
‘That’s hardly the right attitude, James. Those jeans are a disgrace.’
She was beginning to make him feel nervous about today after he had woken up surprisingly relaxed. It had been three months since the written exams, so it wasn’t as though they had stayed fresh in his mind.
‘Nearly everybody will be wearing jeans,’ he told her and waited for the inevitable flak.
Looking outside at the weather, she shook her head in disagreement.
‘Shorts more like and micro skirts for the girls.’
‘I’m fine as I am.’
‘James, please. Something a bit smarter. It’s a big day.’
He looked down at his clothes and couldn’t see the fuss. With his ripped jeans he wore a badly creased black tee shirt and white trainers that were turning grey with dirt. The jeans were supposed to look well worn. It had everything to do with current fashion.
‘What about those nice NIKE shorts I got you, the yellow ones?’ she persisted.
‘Yellow? I think not.’
‘You’ve got others. The blue stripy ones, maybe?’
James didn’t seem to be really listening. He was determined not to get changed. Sometimes, it just made you feel better about yourself if you stuck to your guns.
‘Come on, let’s see what we can find. There has to be a better alternative,’ Sylvia fussed.
He threw his arms wildly into the air and gasped.
‘Alright, I’ll wear the striped shorts. Please stop going on. I’ll blame you if I catch a cold, though.’
‘Nonsense, it’s warm out. They say it could reach thirty degrees or more.’
‘I could catch heatstroke then,’ James muttered, looking disinterested. He went looking for the shorts, secretly praying he wouldn’t find them. But he did, and he put them on. Sylvia still pulled a face at the choice of tee shirt. Black didn’t seem like an optimistic colour to her. But it would have to do for now.
‘Happy now,’ he said, with perhaps too much sarcasm.
‘They weren’t your best jeans; I just didn’t think they were appropriate. What’s wrong with looking smart?’
She remembered having the same struggle over clothes with Luke and Noah and to a lesser degree with Clare and Mary.
‘Off you go then; you don’t want to be late. Will you call me when you know or at least text me.’
He promised her. ‘Of course, see you later.’
And with the best of the English weather greeting him outside, and Sylvia’s theory about shorts correct, he joined his peers and a pretty disjointed queue that snaked into the school hall, his fate very much in somebody else’s hands and his nerves suddenly on edge.
He noted how some of the students took their time to open up their envelopes whilst others couldn’t wait and did so with baited breath. Himself, he decided on the unrushed approach, tucking his results under his arm before listening in on several post mortems from some of those who had seen no reason to put off the inevitable.
When he did delve inside the envelope, he was half way home, sheltering from the sun under a large sycamore tree. Though slightly down on his expectations, he had achieved one A (Music), four B’s, three C’s and a D. Sufficient for his needs. He was relieved and pleased at the same time, returning home with an air of nonchalance, to impart the news to Sylvia.
‘Don’t muck me about James. I know that look; stop teasing me,’ she complained, disbelieving his glum expression. ‘Come on. I’m itching to know.’
‘See for yourself,’ he kidded her. ‘I got E’s in every subject.’
She took the envelope and opened it and then used it like it was a swat repelling a fly, just missing his head.
‘You would not have dared come home with E’s. I just knew you would try something like that.’
Before he had chance to dodge, her she was hugging him and looking around her kitchen for her mobile phone. ‘I must tell Phillip; he will be so proud of you.’
James, coming up for air said, ‘I can text him if you like,’ to which she shook her head.
‘I’ll speak to him. None of this texting rubbish.’
‘Well, I’ll send one to Wes then,’ said James, feeling put out. ‘I promised to let him know.’
‘As you wish,’ Sylvia backed down. ’And send one to Mary too, not forgetting Noah, of course.
The last request proved difficult for James. It was tantamount to kicking somebody when they were already down. Noah would hardly jump for joy at the news of his brother’s GCSE results, especially as they had easily exceeded his own. More likely, he might turn bitter again and reignite the bad feelings between them.
Concocting an altogether low-key text saying that he had done alright in his exams, he sent it and was surprised by the speed of Noah’s reply. It said he was pleased to hear he had done OK and that he wanted them to meet up soon to discuss an idea he had. To James, it sounded like a lot of cloak and dagger, endorsed by a quick fire follow-up text asking that they meet tomorrow. James could hardly refuse, so keen that he and Noah remain friends and be part of each other’s lives. But for the next twenty-four hours, he would remain intrigued.
That evening, Wes and Liz popped round at Sylvia’s request, and the adults shared a bottle of sparkling wine whilst James, Mary, Clare and even Luke shared a bottle of Lemonade. Sylvia never allowed any occasion to go without some form of celebration, and, of course, she embarrassed James in front of the others with a cheery speech, singing his praises. She had asked Noah and Sinead to come too but according to Noah his pregnant girlfriend was feeling under the weather, so neither of them came. For reasons best known to himself, James had not told her he was meeting Noah tomorrow. He was sixteen and not a child. He could meet with whoever he liked.
The venue for the meeting was a coffee bar in Groby, the type that served umpteen styles of American coffee, though when he got there early, James ordered a Strawberry Milk Shake and waited. It had nearly been finished by the time Noah breezed in, looking and sounding remarkably more upbeat about life than he had of late. It was clear that the shock of being dumped by the band hadn’t killed his enthusiasm for rock music or the performing of it, and it took him little time to reveal the idea that preoccupied his head.
’Me and you, Bro, we were made to perform together. Once I’d come to my senses and thought about it, there was no other logical way. Why would I need a band when I had a kid brother like you there under my nose all the time. Just think about it. The Swan Brothers. Better still, what do you think of, wait for it, The Sygnets…cool, eh. We call ourselves The Sygnets. Write and record all our own original stuff. Find a decent drummer to go out on the road with. I’ve been there already. I know people. Listen James, we could piss all over Hooded Eye. Who needs a lead singer with tits, a tight arse and Scottish accent? Together, bro, we could be the next big thing.
‘What do you think?’
Noah had not stopped for breath. He sounded like a young, up and coming politician on Valium. James hadn’t had a chance to interrupt him. Not once had he ever thought seriously about actually working with his brother. He was speechless. He watched as Noah licked froth from his lips and sipped some more of his cappuccino. His head had not stopped spinning.
Whilst to many it would seem like a dream pairing and an all too logical step, James began to recoil in horror. But not wanting to reveal this so soon to Noah, he still said nothing that could be construed as negative.
‘Wow, I wasn’t expecting that. I thought you were still trying to get over…the attack.’
‘You can say it. It’s over and done with. I’ve been a big fool, Bro; the answer was under my nose all the time. You and me. We share everything. Fifty, fifty. No more crap. Brothers in Arms. It excites me just thinking about it. Fucking hell, let’s do it.’
Wasn’t this what James had dreamt about and hoped one day would happen. Why was it so out of the question after
all they had been through? There was no hatred now. In a roundabout way, they had perhaps saved each other’s lives so what was so bad that they should be bound together and create beautiful music as though it had been written in the stars. They were young, inventive, vibrant. They were the Swan Brothers and the world was ready for them.
But James didn’t feel that there was no other choice. He had plans of his own. ‘I don’t see things the way you do, Noah. We’ve been apart and don’t necessarily want to do the same things. I’ve been doing stuff with Wes and Liz and I’m excited about it. I’d like to try to expand on that.’
Noah, realising he had a fight on his hands grew defensive and tried gentler persuasion.
’Let me talk to them, Bro. I have ideas, and our musical tastes aren’t so different. We can adapt, compromise on things, and you will get no shit from me. My days of behaving like a spoilt brat are well and truly over, and I’m still friends with a few people who would give us a hand up. It’s now or never so far as I’m concerned. Think about those brain storming sessions we used to have as kids and what a team we’ll make. The Signets are going to take the rock music world by storm. We’ll be ten times bigger than Hooded Eye. I’m talking about the new Oasis, except you and me will never fall out.
‘The past’s in the past. We look forward and forget those things ever happened between us. Let’s shake on it now and plan ahead.’
James thought about other things going on in Noah’s life and wondered if he was escaping from them and becoming delusional. But he had put forward a powerful argument even if he was sounding too idealistic in comparing them to the Gallagher brothers.
‘I’m not at all sure,’ he said, his resistance resurfacing.
‘What’s not to be sure about? Are you still mad with me? I thought we were past that. What do I have to do to prove what I’m saying to you? Tell me, James. Tell me what I have to do.’
James sighed. He was being pushed further and further backwards into an imaginary corner. There was no way he wanted to antagonise Noah with the truth. How could he really tell his over enthusiastic brother that talk of a music partnership was premature and unrealistic. That he had changed, and it simply wasn’t what he wanted any more.
‘It’s too soon, I’m not ready. I want to concentrate on my studies at sixth form college and get my A levels,’ he said truthfully. ‘The music stuff will have to be fitted in, but only in my spare time. Wes understands that, and he won’t rush me. I’m sorry. Perhaps we can hook up in a couple of years. It’s out of the question now.’
Noah reacted as though he had been hit by a boulder.
‘Shit, bro, I really thought…’ he pondered. ‘Are you being pressured by Sylvia and Phillip over college because if that’s the case I’ll talk to them.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with them. It’s what I want.’
‘Never had you down as a scholar,’ Noah replied.
’Neither did I, but I must go with my instincts.
What will you do now?’
Noah didn’t want to even think about an answer. He was standing, saying he was in need of some fresh air. Next, he was heading for the door.
‘Send my love to Mary,’ he shrugged, leaving James alone.
They had come a long way and had many differences, James thought. What the future held for both of them he didn’t want to contemplate right now. After watching his brother walk away somewhat disconsolate, he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, focusing on the dregs of his milk shake.
Feeling sorry for his departed brother wasn’t an option and rejecting Noah’s idea of working together has been an easy decision to make. Though there still existed a strong bond between them, they were moving in different directions now, and life for both held many challenges.
James momentarily closed his eyes and once a strong impulse to run after Noah had passed, he sighed. And a calming voice in his head told him that this wasn’t the end, it was just the beginning. The real journey began now. He hoped he was ready.
The End
