**Diary Entry – Andrew and Steve: Friends Forever**
I was in the middle of a meeting when my phone buzzed on the desk. I nearly dismissed the call but froze when I saw the name—*Andrew*. My old school mate.
“Excuse me,” I muttered to my colleagues before stepping out.
“Hello?” I answered cautiously.
“Steve? Bloody hell, is that you? It’s me, Andy! Thought you’d changed your number by now—couldn’t believe you picked up!”
“Hey, Andy. How’ve you been?” My voice was stiff, automatic. But Andy didn’t notice, barrelling on with that familiar enthusiasm.
“Brilliant! Listen, I’m in London—just got in. I know it’s work hours, but… any chance we could meet? Been ages, mate.”
I softened. “Give me an hour. Where are you?”
“King’s Cross station. Standing right out front.”
“Don’t move. I’ll find you.”
Back at the meeting, my mind wandered. Fifteen years. Since I’d left our hometown for uni, we’d lost touch.
At the station, crowds swarmed. Then—a grin, a wave. A man strode toward me, weathered but unmistakable. We halted, sizing each other up, then shook hands. Then, without a word, hugged.
“Steve…”
“Andy… Christ, look at you.” He clapped my shoulder. “Proper city bloke now, eh? Let’s grab a coffee—too noisy here.”
I drove us to a quiet café off a side street. Dim inside, despite the afternoon sun.
“Order whatever you want,” I said when the waitress came.
Andy hesitated. “Just coffee’s fine—”
“Steak and chips for him,” I cut in. “And dessert.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“You skipped breakfast. I know you.”
He exhaled. “Fair. Took three hours to get my mother-in-law to the hospital. Her hip’s shot.”
I didn’t offer money. He’d refuse.
Over food, we traded updates. Married? Kids? His laugh lines deepened as he talked about his two—Tom, eleven, and little Emily, seven.
“Remember Sarah? From school?” he added. “Turns out she fancied *me* all along. Married her after you left.”
My brows shot up. “Sarah? The one who used to follow me around?”
“The very one!” He grinned. “Reckon I beat you there, eh?”
I chuckled, twisting my wedding ring. “No kids for us yet.”
“Shame. But look at you—fancy car, London flat, head of sales. Top bloke.”
The talk turned to old times—fishing trips, the shed we nearly torched, that time we tried running away to Scotland, convinced the North Pole was nearby.
Then Andy’s tone shifted. “You happy, Steve?”
The question jarred me. “Dunno. Never thought about it.”
“Come off it. We’re from different worlds now. Suits, Rolexes… What do we even talk about?”
“Don’t do that. I’m glad you called.”
“Are you? Then why’d you vanish?”
“You didn’t call either,” I shot back.
He sighed. “Pride, mate. But listen—come visit. Proper fishing trip, like old days. Bring the missus. Sarah won’t mind—she’s stuck with me.” His smile returned, crinkling those sun-weathered eyes.
Later, as I drove him back, silence settled. At the station, he hoisted his duffel bag, one shoulder hiking higher under the weight. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah?”
Watching him go, something ached.
At home, my wife, Claire, was out. I poured a whisky, stared at the skyline. Lights flickered like distant stars. Claire and I used to walk for hours, dreaming aloud. Now? Dinners with clients, her PR firm, my meetings. Perfect on paper. Hollow underneath.
She arrived late, heels clicking. “You’re home early.”
“Met an old friend today.” I fiddled with my glass. “He invited us up north. Maybe we should go.”
Her brow furrowed. “It’s your dad’s birthday this weekend.”
“Next time, then.”
Later, in bed, I dreamt of fishing—a huge trout thrashing, the line snapping taut. No one around to help. I woke sweating, lungs tight.
At breakfast, Claire surprised me. “Let’s go. If it means that much.”
We drove north, windows down. I babbled about Andy, our plans, how we’d finally start a family—give our kids everything.
Claire nodded, smiling. But her eyes were elsewhere. *Let him get it out of his system*, I imagined her thinking. *See his mate’s cramped house, the wife worn thin. Then we’ll return. Back to our real lives.*
Funny, isn’t it? How we chase things, certain they’ll make us happy—only to find the memories we left behind were the prize all along.
