Walk on the Wild side- a short story, based on a true event. Written by Berni Albrighton

 

"Another drink when you’ve finished yapping”

“Excuse me. It’s not like you’ve been waiting or anything”

“Sorry, but what's a bloke supposed to do around here to catch the eye of a beautiful woman eh?” 

“Resort to rudeness, is that it?”

“I said I was sorry. Let’s start again. My name is John”

I learnt a lot about John that evening.

He lives locally. Bought his place off the council.

“I was born in the downstairs front room, Mam and Dad lived there most of their married life. They’re both dead now, it’s just me left” he tells me.

“Brothers and sisters?” I ask.

“They can't stand Whitnash, says it’s a shit hole. Me? I know every brick, every paving slab, every street lamp. It’s hardly changed you know. I love the place”

He is a qualified electrician.

“New van outside, I change it every three years” he spoke proudly. 

He never married and recently came out of a long term relationship.

“Well, on and off long term if you get what I mean”

“I’m 31 next month. Time to settle down” he teases.

I tell him that he has a reputation for walking on the wild side of life.

“Me? Walk on the wild side? Hang on a minute”

He gets up and walks across to the jukebox, within seconds Lou Reed is playing loud and clear in the bar.

“There, a song especially for me,” he laughs. 

He has a handsome smile, roguish but childlike. 

I like him.

I call last orders.

“Let me give you a lift home” he asks. 

“I don’t know, you’ve had a bit to drink ”

“Come on, you’re safe with me. I’m not really a bad boy you know”

He is holding my hand.

Just for a moment I am tempted.  

“Tell you what, let’s share a cab” I suggest. “You can drop me off first and come back in the morning for your van”

He wouldn't listen. He insisted on driving. 

In the early hours a young man was found seriously injured. 

His vehicle had veered off the road into the wall of the old bridge. 

He had crawled along the underpass leaving a trail of blood which the medics were able to follow. He was found unconscious. One eye hung from its socket and a deep gash tore across his face. 

He wasn’t far from home. 

Another five minutes and he would have been safe.

I never saw him again.

People said he rarely left the house. 

He no longer drank, nor gambled and was unable to work due to his injuries.

On the positive side his on/off relationship was back on. 

For years after, I only had to hear that song and be transported back to the last time I saw him. 

For so long I wished that he had shared my taxi.

I should have been more forceful.

I ask myself where would our relationship have gone?

Frustratingly I am left with another of life's unanswerable questions.