Refrain

Chapter 4: Hamster Wheel

As the three of them paced around the Sheldonian Theatre back to Clarendon Quad, they were the only ones left.

Embroidered inside the gate's steely curlicues, the small door was left open like an intentional mistake. They took turns stooping through it, with Louis helping Naila lift the hem of her long black dress over the tall threshold. Turning left, King's Arms was just around the corner. Cadence, reacquainted with his 20s fear of overstepping the mark, tailed several steps behind the two adults, who walked abreast with their shoulders brushing, and were chatting in voices too far for him to make out the content.

At the end of Holywell Street, with every nearby building either part of a college or a library, King's Arms on a Saturday night is the kind of place you hear before you find. Made for 'social people', it summons those with friends, and mocks those without. It was the kind of establishment I tried my best to avoid back in my own Cambridge days, for I always counted myself gladly among the latter group. Cadence's hesitation towards pubs was somewhat less categorical: he'd never bring people there himself; but either out of a fear to offend or a secret wish for company, he wouldn't refuse to tag along.

Over their head, a new moon smiled with its thin mouth, still immature enough to keep its brightness from earth. King's Arms had its tables and benches out for the summer, occupied by groups of five and six, too engrossed to suppress their voices as they conversed with the barely visible faces of their friends in the dim yellow streetlights.

They walked up to the entrance in an awkward column formation, out of the way of the narrow door, which incessantly emitted people with their 'excuse me's garbled by the unlit cigarettes between their lips. Naila was straining her neck to look inside for Joseph. Finally, I'm seeing Joseph this Saturday as planned, here of all places, thought Cadence to himself, and chuckled into Louis's back. My brother turned, but before his look touched Cadence's face, it was caught midway by someone approaching.
Cadence smelt the familiar Dunhill tobacco, and smiled.

'That took you two ages,' Joseph patted Louis on the back. 'Almost half an hour, just to walk those thirty steps here? Are you two getting old or what?'

'Well, we're not exactly young anymore,' Louis smirked. 'And I've been on my feet for two hours. Have some pity.'

'Sure, sure. Says someone who didn't get a chair for his office for the better half of a year. Great concert, by the way. Let's go sit.' With his back turned to Cadence, he took Louis by the arm.

'Wait, Joseph. This is Cadence. I thought you wanted to talk to him?'

Cadence had half hoped Joseph would keep on ignoring him in the crowd, something the old professor had done often at first, and which Cadence, after they eventually became close, had thought it too late to parse and resent in retrospect. But Joseph followed Louis's eyes and found him. Behind them, Naila was stepping outside, and watched him also.

The sounds around Cadence subsided. He hadn't felt all their eyes on him in a long time, they made reality take on a different, distant hue, a picture taken with a film camera that declined as it came to life. In his many attempts to locate the instant that made him see the past—want the past—as more than just a single visit, he always thought back to this moment of terminal lucidity, with the four of them gathered at the doorstep of King's Arms. What he felt then wasn't bitter, but something lighter, tangier. Something you'd take another bite of, knowing full well it'd make you tear up. Something akin to joy, only woollier, because it's being replayed in your dream.

'Oh yes. We do need to talk.' Joseph narrowed his eyes at Cadence. 'Imagine the surprise when I saw you earlier tonight on the stage.'

'You two knew each other?'