Supporting Rodney

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I could see the old fart a mile away. Flesh from all parts of his body manoeuvred for position as he wobbled his way out of the car park. His knees hadn’t had a conversation in years. They’d parted company in their youth to make way for an increasing acreage of thigh and he now walked as though he’d lost his horse. Rodney struggled up the steps to the rear door of the pub and spied me immediately.  I always sat near the rear door. No point making the poor bastard trek through the tables and chairs.

 

‘Hi Rod,’ I said. ‘The usual Hen?

 

Rodney flopped with a breathless thump and nodded. Once I’d got back with his pint of Speckled Hen he had recovered a bit and could start talking.

 

‘Nice to see you again, John. How’ve you been keeping?’

‘Fine. Fit and healthy. And you?’

‘Well, you know how it is.’ He pointed to his expansive body.

‘Yeah, I know how it is. I keep telling you. Get rid of it, or some of it at least.’

‘Easier said.’

 

One thing that Rodney could smile about was his hair. Thick black and curly, with hardly a grey strand. Not bad for nearly sixty. And he didn’t really look his age either. I imagine the wrinkles had been working out which bit of flesh to screw up first and no sooner had they begun their wicked work then the flesh would expand and they’d be back to square one.  Wrinkling up Rodney’s face was a bit like painting the Forth Bridge.

 

‘How about eating less?’

‘For Chrissakes, John, leave it. It’s my glands isn’t it? You know it’s my glands. I’ve told you before.’

‘Yeah, I know. Listen, what you need is a life coach, mate. Give you some support. Not just diet. Interests, career change, all that. I’d be happy to do it. I’d be very affordable. As we’re mates.’

‘I didn’t know you were a life coach. How long have you been doing that?’

‘Well, I haven’t, have I? I just think I could help, that’s all.’

 

To be perfectly honest, I’d been Rodney’s life coach in all but name for years. I’d introduced him to his boss and to his last girlfriend, always giving him the low down before he bought his widgets, cameras, computers and all that. I’d suggested his holidays. Rodney needed looking after ever since his wife went off with the neighbour fifteen years ago. He needed someone. A bit low on self esteem. That was the trouble with ol’ Rodney.  

 

‘How’s that insurance bond doing,’ I asked.

‘Oh, Okay I think.’

‘Good medium term investment that. Very reasonable return and tax free too.’

 

Rodney took a final swig of his pint. ‘Yeah, you said.’

 

‘You need looking after, mate. Another pint? You stay there I’ll get them.’

‘Thanks John. I’ll pay you later.’

When I got back, Rodney said, ‘Funny you should mention being looked after.’

‘Why? You like my idea?’

‘No, it’s not that. That’s why I phoned you for a chat. I’ve got some big news.’

‘I’m all ears.’

‘I’m getting married again.’

 

I don’t know how long I sat there without saying anything. But in the end Rodney said, ‘Well, what have you got to say? Bit of a turn up eh?’

 

His face had taken on a new shape and hue. A deep smile had divided the top from the bottom, his eyes had all but disappeared in the newly constructed creases and his body trembled slightly in silent giggles.

 

‘You’re supposed to say “congratulations”’, he said.

‘Yeah. Sure. Congratulations. Who to?’

‘Her name’s Daphne.’

‘Don’t know a Daphne.’

‘You don’t know this one. She’s a physio. I have her once a week or so to help me get some better movement. I’m stiffening up all over the place. Even more of late. If you get my meaning.’

 

Rodney started his silent giggles again. I tried to imagine him and this Daphne …. but the picture was too grotesque.

 

‘Why didn’t you mention it?’ I thought we were mates.’

‘For a start it hadn’t happened the last time we met. It’s all been a bit sudden.’

‘So she came round to give you some physio and one thing led to another. She could get bloody struck off for that. She ought to watch her step Rod. She could get into trouble.’

‘No she won’t. I’m a private patient. And now we’re getting married, she does it for free. I’m no longer a client.’

 

I took several gulps of my lager. ‘You could have phoned.’

 

‘You don’t seem particularly thrilled with the idea, if I may say so, John.’

‘Why didn’t you phone?’

‘As a matter of fact I was going to, several times. But I didn’t.’

‘Why not?’

 

Rod took a large swig of beer. We were both getting through the stuff double quick.

 

‘Well, each time I thought of phoning, it seemed, I dunno, it seemed like I was asking for permission.’

‘Oh don’t be an arse. That’s ridiculous.’

‘Is it?’

 

Rod finished his beer. I downed the final mouthful of mine, swept up the two glasses and walked to the bar. How could he do that? Turned himself into a couple called Rodney and Daphne. It just sounded daft. All these years I’d been his confidant. And now he’d let me down. I placed the refills on the table and sat down in silence.

 

‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ I said eventually.

‘You see what I mean?’

‘What?’

‘I’m a big boy, John. I know what I’m doing.’

‘What’s she like, this Daphne.’

‘She’s big and cuddly. She laughs at my jokes. We just have a great time.’

‘And that’s it? You gonna marry someone because she laughs at your jokes?’

‘What’s up, John? You know perfectly well that’s not it. Not all of it. I found someone who thinks I’m great, with opinions worth listening to.’

‘Wrong time to sell your house, Rod.’

‘I’m not selling it. Daph’s going to move in. She’s got some friends from the US coming over. They’ll take her place for a while and after that we’ll think again.’

‘Got it sussed, eh?’

‘As far as we can see. Even if we make a mistake it’ll be our mistake. No one else’s. And that’s ok.’

 

I was well into my third pint and needed to slow down. We sat in silence for a while.

 

‘We can still have a drink occasionally can’t we,’ I said.

‘Of course, John. Nothing need change. Except you won’t be choosing my décor any more.’ A tremor in his throat and chest signified another bout of silent giggles.

‘I don’t choose you décor.’

‘You did last year. You got horrified I’d done my living room walls in two tones. So sixties you said.’

‘Well, it was.’

‘And do you know what I did?’

‘What did you do?’

‘I changed it.’

I smiled. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘No, John. Not right.’

 

This didn’t seem to be the Rodney I knew. This one was a bit too assertive for my taste. 

 

‘How’s Sheila by the way?’ he asked.

‘We’re not seeing each other now. I finished it a month or so ago.’

‘That’s a shame. I liked her. You must have been together for a couple of years. What happened?’

‘We had a bit of a row. She bought some new furniture, terrible stuff, real ugly.’

‘And I suppose you told her it was either you or the furniture.’

‘Well I told her what I thought. Why couldn’t she just accept other people’s opinions?’

Rodney stared at me. ‘I suppose you gave it with the best of intentions.’

‘Of course.’

Rodney looked at his watch. ‘Gotta run, picking up Daphne. We’ll be in touch, invite you round, get you two introduced.’

‘Run?’

Rodney smiled. ‘Well maybe not run. I will get some weight off. I’m hiring a suit for the wedding. No date fixed yet, fortunately.’

‘Yeah, take my advice. You’ll feel better for it.’

‘Of course, John. You know I always take your advice.’

 

Rodney manoeuvred his way to the car park and left me with the remains of my beer. Rodney married. It was ridiculous. It wouldn’t last. I chuckled. The couple on the next table turned and stared at me. I realised I had chuckled out loud. I nodded a vague apology and followed Rodney out of the door.