It was dark when I got to the Portugal. It turned out Scott’s event was rather bigger than I expected. People were gathered inside, but folks had spilled out of the building and into the beer garden al fresco area around the back, where food tables were set up under lanterns suspended on cabling, casting a soft silver glow over everything. Scott was by a disused fountain outside, talking with some other guys about how they could possibly make it erupt with beer. He had a very closely shaved head, stubble, and was wearing a leather jacket – had probably whipped over on his ‘cyle. Scott was one of the coolest people I knew; he just radiated an admirable sense of floating through life on a cloud, not giving a damn and having a blast the whole time.

“The only question is,” one of the guys was saying as I wandered over, “how to prevent people peeing in it.”

“Whoa, let’s not race ahead of ourselves,” Scott bantered, “first we need to scoop out the catfish.”

“You could lure it out with a mousefish,” I said, and they all turned to me.

Scott broke out with a grin.

“Hey, Jerry!” he said. “I hoped you were serious when you said you were going to show. These days, I can’t tell, man. You feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” I lied, my headache still probing around behind my temples at odd moments.

“Glad to hear it. When I said this might be the last time we see each other, well, I wasn’t completely exaggerating. You know Tash and I are hitting the road tomorrow, heading up north to visit her folks. This doubles as our going away party.”

The news didn’t take me by surprise. He’d been talking about this move for months. Still, I felt something deflate in my chest. It meant the loss of another person in my life.

“You sure you won’t be too smashed to drive?” I said.

“We’ll leave in the afternoon, of course; it’s a flight most of the way. And we’re not geezers just yet, Grandpa.” Then he said thoughtfully, “We’ve put a deposit on a house up there.”

“Oh, right, congratulations,” I said, trying to keep my voice natural, but on the inside, feeling something unpleasant tug in my chest. Surely not envy? Even though we were good friends, Scott and I were very different, with very different values…or so I thought. Scott was a drifter, not a plan-in-advance type like myself. He didn’t have clearly defined goals. I always imagined I would be the first to settle securely and be the one telling him to try it sometime. Never imagined it’d be the other way around and I’d be stricken with petty jealousy of him, and that was an alarming realization for me. Just how far had I fallen this past year?

Scott must have caught something in my tone.

“I know,” he went on wistfully, “the party years can’t go on forever. This Flip business is probably going to pass and the world keep on turning, but it’s got me thinking about the future. We only have so much time on this planet. I’m serious about Tash, and ever since her dad had his heart scare last year she’s wanted to be able to visit them more often. I’m going to start a business up there, too. Plus, we’re talking about having a family of our own.” He paused and then shrugged and said, “Anyway. Enough of me. What about you? You been seeing anyone, yet?”

I looked away. “I’ve been too busy.”

“I don’t mean commitment, I just mean fooling around, casual stuff.”

“Nothing,” I stressed uncomfortably. “It’s been good having my own time and space again.” That was a lie.

Scott slid his arm over my shoulder and steered me away from the other guys so we couldn’t be overheard.

“Your breakup hit hard, I know,” he said. “Man,” he shook his head, “What happened? I thought you guys were rock solid. Tasha told me Jennifer glowed talking about you – you had Tasha wondering what I was doing wrong not making her feel like that. Next second Jen calls it off.” He clapped me on the back in sympathy.

“I don’t know,” I said. That was a lie, too.

“I’d be stinging, too,” he went on. “I never told you – guess I can now – but one time I came over. You weren’t home, but Jen was and I accidentally got a real sinful sight as she came out of the shower. I thought, Lord, you see that every morning. Think I was more embarrassed than she was.”

“She probably timed it,” I said, and meant it. I didn’t mention that, when we lived together, the dynamic was usually reversed; I was the self-effacing undresser and she was the one trying to catch me in my birthday suit.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. She’s got a gorgeous ass. Her ass is like its own pair of tits. And her tits are even better. Puppies up and noses pointing.”

“I get the picture. You saw everything.”

“Sorry. I know, it must sting,” he said quickly.

“I’m doing much better,” I said dismissively, and at this rate, my nose should’ve been as long as Pinocchio’s.

“If it makes you feel better, I always thought Jennifer was too much work for full time commitment. Tasha’s low maintenance, it’s great. That’s the beauty of finding the right person, they make it easier to live with them, than without. You seemed kind of drained sometimes with Jen, like she’d had you running marathons on a leash.”

“Not a bad way of putting it.”

“Well, forget it. Let’s look forward to the night ahead.”

Scott pointed me to a table lined with food, and got me a drink – champagne, not beer. I got a plate and took a number of different samples, canapes, cheeses, fruit, salad, and hot food. Then desserts were brought out, cakes, puddings, trifles and mousses.

Afterward, Scott said:

“Let’s get you talking to some girls,” and he got to his feet, and started leading me through the crowd. I trailed after him through the masses of people, until he stopped suddenly and awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Uh, maybe not that way,” he said. I looked past him and my eyes locked onto a young man and woman standing together, talking with another couple. I knew the sight of the woman so well, it hurt like a punch.

She was an unusual combination of the best features from different worlds; an Amazon from some bygone exotic Empire that had collapsed in a war and now no longer existed, and since had merged back with the 'normal folk' to live amongst them once more as an equal.

Her hair was naturally light blonde – a seraphic, almost unnaturally light platinum, but every so often she had it, and her eyebrows, dyed a shade of midnight brown. Her odd coloured hair made dyes come up unexpectedly, for instance red came up magenta, and copper came up yellow. With experimentation, she’d found the dark brown shade worked, apart from an odd, panther-like greyish blue that came up under certain lighting. That hue always sparked nervous electricity inside me for some reason. She must have decided to mix things up lately, as ¾ of her long hair, from her scalp, was that pantherine blue, and the last length lightening to her natural silvery blonde.

She was wearing a stunning white dress and white wedge heels – she always wore light when her hair was dark, and vice versa.

Her outfit matched her male partner’s hair – his name was Stuart, I knew – and his hair was white – not blonde, but white, which looked unusual on such an otherwise young man. He was tall, held himself well, was dressed well enough in a sweater, tie and trousers. Any woman would be satisfied enough to have him on her arm. He was an unexciting choice for her, but maybe she’d changed. Maybe she was done chasing, and just wanted to settle into quiet normality.

I could prep myself to remain composed if I knew I was going to see her, but I was still not used to having her sprung on me like this without warning. At least they hadn’t seen me. Yet.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was here?” I said under my breath.

“I didn’t know,” Scott shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I invited them, but she said they weren’t coming. Anyway,” he eyed me, “what’s the problem? You’ve moved on, right?”

I wouldn’t have come if I’d known she was coming, was the problem. I suddenly wanted to leave, but ditching Scott would be rude. I was stuck.

“It’s awkward, man,” I said hesitantly. “I don’t want her to see me on my own. I should’ve brought someone.”

“You’re single, so what? Own it. We’re probably all dead after midnight anyway.” He took a sip of his beer.

“—I’m only kidding,” he added at my look, and shoved my shoulder. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck were rising; a personal kind of ‘Spidey sense’ that only meant one thing:

She had seen me.

You wouldn’t know, just looking at her. She was like a cat who knew you were in the room, and where you were, without turning its head or moving its eyes. When she was interested by something in her peripheral vision, she assumed a stillness and a deliberation while everyone else continued to move around her obliviously. That’s how you knew you’d just got clocked. One time, back when we lived together, she came to me, swearing up and down that there was a mouse in the house. I never saw evidence of it, but at her insistence, I set up a trap. Sure enough, the next morning there was a dead mouse caught in it.

Nothing got past Jennifer Tomlin.

Not even a mouse. And now, horribly, not me, either. For they were both strolling on up to us. Scott and I stood in place, trapped. Like a good host, Scott beamed and spread his arms, while my hands disappeared into my pockets and clenched into fists.

“So you both decided to show up after all!” Scott said magnanimously. “What a nice surprise!”

"We couldn't get a reservation at Le Bistro Rabelais," said Jennifer.

"Oh. What about that new place,” said Scott, “Gulliver’s Kitchen, or whatever it’s called.”

"No good," Stuart smiled with resignation. "Either the portions are too big or too small – ” he gave Jennifer’s shoulder a small squeeze, “ –  this one’s so fussy. And stubborn."

"I was just keen for a dinner on the waterfront," Jennifer said with finality.

I found myself staring at Stuart, more to avoid looking at Jennifer. There was something in his face that looked different than the last time I'd seen him. Sadness? – No, a kind of tiredness. Couldn't hold that against him; I was tired myself; and sick, too. Maybe it was just all the doomsday fervor.

I could feel Jennifer’s eyes on me, more than a passing glance, and her expression had softened. Not wholly unpleasant, but I thought better than to return the look, or even say anything. If I gave her an inch of attention she would take a mile, and I could really use not being poked fun of for still being single. After another couple of minutes, they both moved on. Crisis averted.

I looked pointedly at Scott. “Find me some of your women. And fast.”

He found a couple of young, attractive women he said were single and willing to indulge my half-crumpled ego in conversation. One of them was unreasonably tall (in large part due to a stilt-like pair of heels), and happened to be the one Scott indicated was most compatible with me.

The nerves were jumping in me. I hadn’t played this game in a while. Technically, Jennifer had pursued me, not the other way around. I frowned.

“Kind of a giraffe, isn’t she?” I said.

“I would say, model-esque,” Scott said lightly.

He introduced us and got the girls drinks. To my pleasant surprise, she was very open and animated from the first, laughing at my half-hearted jokes and goading me to keep talking. Her friend nodded and giggled every so often. Reassured, Scott wandered off. And that’s around when things started to go downhill.

I searched for common interests, but kept coming up with false leads, nothing I could latch onto. Undeterred I started tossing around for observations; the music playing from inside the Hotel, the food; did she know anyone else here. Her input was polite, neutral and pedestrian. She needed me to talk and entertain her. But that was a nice change, being the centre of another’s attention. So I obliged, talking about some of my interests, keeping it light. All the while, I couldn’t help but notice her eagerness to empty her glass…and then another, and another, causing her voice to get progressively louder, and her laughter to sound increasingly exaggerated over the comparatively harmonic music.

She asked me more about Scott – apparently she was a distant friend of, and invited by Tasha. I made a funny remark about Scott, and she honked like a goose with laughter. Her smile was starting to go askew.

Her eyes kept wandering from my face, until – while I was mid-sentence speculating what impact the Flip might make on the economy – she eventually reached up and tweaked one of my ears.

“You have big ears,” she said. “It’s funny.”

I didn’t think my ears were much bigger than normal, but they did stick out a little. It didn’t bother me, and neither did her comment. But in actual fact, this was a warning sign to abort, that I unwisely mistook for burgeoning romantic affection.

“You have cute ears, too,” I said, and lifted my hand to push her hair back. Her head pulled away abruptly, out of my reach. 

“Oh my God, you don’t think I like you?” she said, drunk and deafening. She fixed me with a wide eyed stare. “I just thought you were a funny little man. You’re so small!” she giggled recklessly. Heads turned and eyes narrowed on us.

She carried on obliviously.

“Look at this – “ she bent for a moment to slip off her shoes, making it apparent that I was still shorter than her even without them.

“This is you when I’m not wearing heels, little guy,” she said, standing over me. “And with the heels on, I think you put yourself at risk of accidentally getting squashed!” she paused on that image for a moment and then let out a burst of laughter.

It was true, I was a little on the slight side. Even Jennifer had been taller than me, though only by the barest fraction. But still, Jennifer – to her credit – had never made fun of it. And she never made fun of me like this. To Jennifer, I had been a toy, sure, something to play with, but you looked after your toys. To this girl, I was dirt.

“You need to carry a loudspeaker around just so I can hear you,” she went on. “You really think we would work?”

An awkward silence punctuated her pauses. People standing around us had stopped talking and were watching us, some helplessly but most entertained, men grateful to not be standing in my shoes, women hating to admit to themselves the lady had a point about my height.

“I get the picture,” I said tersely. The girl sobered a little, or at least, her face went flatter.

“Everyone’s entitled to standards,” she sniffed.

“There’s being classy about it, and there’s not.”

“Wow, no need to be rude.”

“One to talk.”

“Geez, you might be as big as Mickey Mouse, but you act like Donald Duck. Good bye,” she said, drawing out the space between the words, for extra effect. She turned, and, laughing a little again, teetered away, causing her friend to jump in and link arms to prevent her from falling over.

In the short pause that followed I regretted not calling off the banter to ensure that I was the first to storm off. Now, in the fallout, everyone was staring awkwardly.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I realized, to my horror, that Jennifer and Stuart had ambled over nearby and must have caught the whole spectacle. Stuart had a faint look of sympathetic embarrassment for me – which was somehow worse than if he had been openly laughing. I couldn’t read Jennifer’s face; it was a cold, impassive mask. That made me think she was pretending not to know me, or be associated with me – and that, too, was somehow worse than laughter.

Later, I bumbled into Scott’s girlfriend, Tasha, inside the Hotel, by the stage, where some musicos were setting up and testing their instruments. . She was a small, thin, but stylish woman with black hair.

“Scott tells me you’re working the charm,” she smiled. “How’s it going?”

“Looks like I’m fresh out of charm tonight, Tasha.”

“That’s no good. Well, don’t despair. Have another drink. It’ll get your confidence back.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass. I don’t need the excuse to create an even bigger embarrassment of myself right now.”

“Oh, don’t beat yourself up, Jerry,” she said kindly. “You have a lot to offer. Why, Jen told me earlier she thought you looked very nice, very handsome tonight. She’s happy to see you’re taking care of yourself. And I agree.” She gave me a wink. “Naughty, though, making her a little jealous like that.”

I was doing no such thing, at least not intentionally. Anyway, I thought to myself a little sullenly, at least that’s what it looked like, like I was doing well.

Back outside, Scott was telling a funny story to a friend, but not the kind you let the kids overhear.

“How’d it go?” he saidwhen he saw me.

I told him.

“Dude, don’t take it to heart,” he said, trying to save the day with a vodka martini, and I gratefully took a deep draught of it. What the hell, I thought. Might as well loosen up and get comfy. Who am I trying to impress?

“It’s my fault,” Scott assured me. “I tried hooking you up with a cracked egg. But there are plenty more in the basket.”

I wanted to agree, but I had seen the other girls’ smirks and stifled laughter when the giraffe had ditched me. If the girl was a cracked egg, well, maybe the whole basket had been dropped.

Scott noticed my expression.

“Look,” he said, “if you’re done with women for tonight, I’d like you to meet some guys I know. There’s one guy and he’s really into time travel. Builds stuff in his garage. You interested?”

I agreed. Time travel was an idle fascination of mine. Little was I to know, the forthcoming meeting of minds would change the course of my life forever.