Slide Away.

It's Alright (Manchester 1993)

I intented to go into a good old shaby pub, something Manchester had dozens of when I lived here. But after an hour of strolling through the inner city which has changed so much I barely recognize it, I give up and walk straight into a fancy Steakhouse. And now I sit at the bar, my second Gin and Tonic in front of me and try to forget about the happy chit chat on the tables behind me. Everywhere are bright faces, joyful laughter and I feel utterly miserable witnessing it. 

I never felt comfortable in such an environment. Back in the 90s, when I moved to London and was getting into the photography scene, all these nights out in expensive restaurants and clubs with gallery people, artists, people from the magazines and newspapers, it never felt right. So much shallow talk, so much bullshit. I had left Manchester for London in September 1992, after a massive heartbreak and a scholarship from Goldsmith only to find out that I hated institutions as much as ever. I always hated to play after someone else's rules, not being able to be my own master. 

I smile, without wanting to. That's something Noel and I always had in common. 

Manchester, Dezember 1992

"Just tell the fucker to mind his own business." Noel comes back into the living room, throwing me a can of coke and opening a beer for himself. He flings himself on to the sofa next to me, reaching for the package of Monster at my side. I hit his hand.

"Hey!"

"Don't be greedy. You got your own." Grumbling he takes his own crisps. We had to establish that rule a while ago, because we are both far too jealous over our crisps to be able to share.

"Anyway" he mumbles with his mouth full. "Why do you even care about that guy's opinion?"

"Because that guy is my professor and has the power to not let me pass the term."

"And?"

"What do you mean?" I ask frustrated. 

"And why is that so important to you?" Noel looks at me seriously. "I may be on the wrong track here but you don't seem to enjoy that whole place." 

"I have a scholarship" I mumble and take a sip of my coca cola.

"And that's why exactly important?"

"Because...because..." God, how I hated his straight forwardness sometimes. He asked all the questions I had asked myself already.

"You know, all this time last year I bragged about how I wanted to get the fuck out of Manchester. And then I got accepted at Goldsmiths and I just...shit" I sigh in frustration.

"It's just not my type of place really. You should see the people there, they are awful. Fuckin' middle class geezers, philosophing about how hard life is and how fuckin' unfair society is treating them and how they want to picture the reality and truth in this country. But they have never seen a place like Burnage or worked in a factory or at building sights. And still they think they know just everything."

"What are you doing there then?"

"Because it's my ticket out. I can't throw that away." I lean back and comb through my hair with my fingers. "I'll just have to stick up to it, really. That's how things work."

"That's such bullshit." Perplex I look at him. Noel has turned around to me and looks at me intensely.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Having some fancy people giving you money is not your ticket out. Your photos are. They are the reason they accepted you in college in the first place."

"They think different about it."

"So fucking what?"

"Noel, those are professionals. Really educated and everything and they know the scene, they know the art behind it. If they think I'm not good, well then maybe..." I fall back into the couch and bite on my teeth. It feels like poison to say these words, the same words I have thought so often in the last few weeks. 

"Maybe they are right."

"Alright there, listen." Noel takes my hand and squeezes it tight. "Who are they to tell you your work is not good enough? It certainly felt good enough for you, didn't it?"

"Yeah, I liked it. It never felt not good to take pictures. Well, until recently at last." 

"Well, then don't let this get into your head. You don't need a scholarship or a college degree, you know."

He's right. I know he's right, that's why a part of me squirms listening to his words. All the effort I have put into my work at college, all to prove it to my tutors, to myself. But nothing I do seems to be right and for a while now, photography has done nothing but to put me down. I never thought that could happen. 

"I'll be a looser, Noel." I whisper. 

"No, you'll not." He smiles and strokes a strand from my forehead. "I don't know much of these kind of things. But I like your pictures more than anything else." A smirk appears on his lips. "Except for yourself of course, darling." I can't help but giggle.

"You're really good at being a softie."

"Don't tell the others. Have a reputation to hold up to."

"I'll never tell anyone, mushroom." I earn a pinch for this. Laughing I lean against him and snuggle in at his side. Noel puts an arm around me and I can feel his lips on my hair. There's nothing but this sweet touch for a moment, but as soon as I look into his eyes I shy away.

It's Liam's eyes looking at me.

"What is it?" 

"I'm sorry, I, I just can't." Noel nods his head.

"It's him, right?"

"It's not your fault." He sighs and looks at the ceiling.

"One day it'll not hurt anymore, you know. One fuckin' day."

I don't dare to answer that I think this day will never come. 

Manchester, 2011

But of course the geezer was right again. The day it didn't hurt anymore to think about Liam came. And Noel was there. 

I order another G&T. Tears dwell up in my eyes and I bite my tongue not to start crying. 

He wasn't completely right after all. Thinking about him never stopped hurting.