Purely coincidental

The night was bitch cold and the little oil heater was barely making a difference to the flat, but Alex was happy enough –he’d just but his latest short story to bed. It had been written and published on his website and Facebook in three hours. Whether anyone actually read his stories afterwards wasn’t important to him; it was the writing itself that mattered.

He went to the kitchen and managed to find a clean(ish) glass and poured himself a generous measure of Teachers whiskey. It was then that the door buzzer rang. He looked at the clock –it was 10.20pm; it must be a mistake. No one rang at that hour for him; in fact, no one called round at any time –just the way he liked it. He went back to his desk to decide what story he was going to write next.

The buzzer interrupted his thoughts again. Prank calls; it was Friday night and the last thing he wanted to do was confront some irate drunken lout. Then there came a decisive knock on his door –somehow they’d gotten in past the main door. (Alex knew that many of his fellow residents had trouble understanding the shutting mechanism of the front door and just let it shut of its own accord –defeating the idea of having a secure area.)

Another knock on the door, Alex just wanted to ignore it but he had a feeling that this person would not be going away in a hurry. He walked over to the door and looked through the peephole; it took a couple of seconds to realise who it was. The last time he had seen Paul was… more than ten years ago, surely. He opened the door, unsure what the circumstances were for such a visit.

“About fucking time.” Paul snapped as he barged into the living room. “Anyone would think you didn’t want to see me.” He plonked himself down on the sofa and crossed his legs. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Come in… make yourself at home… what are you doing here, Paul?”

“Don’t play innocent. You must have realised that I’d be round after what you wrote about me.” Alex sat down opposite him behind his desk which had plenty of things to defend himself with should the need arise. “Don’t even bother trying to deny it; it’s obvious to even the most myopic that the whole story is based on our ‘friendship’ together… and I use that term loosely, motherfucker.”

Paul very rarely swore; Alex knew exactly what story he was referring to and smiled inside: any reaction was a good reaction. “Well – loosely based… but then most stories are, Paul. Truth is stranger than fiction, after all.”

“Don’t… don’t even go there.”

“So – what is it then? What’s got you so pissed? Why come over here at this time of night for something so trivial?”

“Trivial? Character defamation and he calls it trivial?”

“Start at the beginning, Paul… it should make things easier.”

“Of course –easier for you to make it into one of your short stories, you mean…”

“I’m beginning to lose patience, mate; say what you’ve got to say and then just piss off.”

“Mate? You’ve no right to call me that. I know how you treat your mates; and this could take all night, fucker. You owe me.”

“I owe you? Riiight.” Paul sat back, crossed his legs and just stared at Alex. The irony was, Paul was right regarding Paul’s feelings towards mates. They were just like condom’s –fit for one purpose only and then disposable. He could feel the contempt radiate from Paul and thought it best not to share that viewpoint…

“Every so often I get nostalgic and think about getting in contact with old friends.” Paul explained. “I must have felt charitable tonight as I thought about messaging you through Facebook. I saw your most recent post regarding your new short story: Soft Skills, and remembered how good your stories were.

“Well, I read it… initially it was really good; it seemed reminiscent of Stephen King’s ‘The Body’ and I remembered your fondness for it. But then I came across the character you called ‘Chub’.. which rankled –you knew that was my nickname in school… Then you went to great pains to describe the friendship that Chub had with the main character. Let me quote:

“’Where once the frame was portly and good mannered; now both character and build were emaciated. Chub lacked the basic social skills but somehow found himself as the new Labor party candidate! He had sold out as an individual long ago but could now sell out an entire country!’

“Or how about this bit?

“’Graham looked at Chub and wondered how they had managed to remain friends for so long; now there was nothing but a festering contempt. The saccharine bonds of two faced children replaced by the hardened façade of a corrupt politician.’ “You never did like the fact that I became successful at something and you didn’t.”

“Define success.” Alex replied and laughed. “If this is it then you’re welcome to it.”

“So you don’t deny it then?”

“Deny what? That I used your enormous ego as a scaffold that I could hang a character on to? Why deny it? You dined out on my reputation often enough.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re on about.” Paul replied.

“Of course you don’t. You and your inbred family.”

“That fucking does it! I oughta..”

“You’ll do nothing and you know it.” Alex snapped back, interrupting him. “You deny that your mum and dad thought they’d play Pygmalion on me? Try and elevate me from the social slime?”

“Well…” Paul blushed. “You were a little different from my normal chums…”

“Chums? Oh please – we can’t all afford to live the Jeeves & Wooster lifestyle. Not all of us are born into privilege! I often wondered why your parents took such an interest in me. I couldn’t fathom it at the time –I guess I was a lot less cynical back then. I was just a social project… doing a bit for the local community, eh?”

“Now wait a minute..” Paul was on the defensive now and Alex pushed his point home.

“It also explains the times you got shitty with me. It was bad enough that you had an older brother who stole your limelight; but to then have an underprivileged ‘friend’ to be the centre of attention must have burnt like hot fat!”

“Hang on…”

“I’ve not finished… Nor did you like the fact that I was such a free thinker. I may not have had your education but I was at least as intelligent as you… and I wasn’t hampered by your familial blinkers. My family encouraged freedom of thought. PLUS I composed music and could write as good as you, if not better. You may have been classically trained but you lacked the creative spirit!”

Paul didn’t say anything. Alex knew that everything had hit home perfectly. Finally Paul replied: “So – are you going to take the story down?”

“I don’t see why I need to. Look at it this way; I can’t think of more than a handful of people that know of our ancient friendship, let alone make the connection between them.”

“But even so.. if you don’t take it down then I’m going to cause such a stir on Facebook that you’ll have to!”

“Seriously? You’d admit to such a thing? Admittedly, it’s not a flattering portrait of someone, but it’s not entirely based on you… You’d be making yourself as much of a target as you would me. I’m not sure you’ve thought this through properly. Are you willing to take that chance?”

“If it means you’ll be forced to take it down the damn story then yeah.”

That was that. Paul left, feathers still ruffled. Alex was bemused, wondering what the point of that confrontation was. In a way it had summed up their whole friendship and equally showed that Paul’s grasp of reality was just as tenuous as it had always been. Sure enough, Paul made a huge commotion on Facebook but, rather than have people rally behind him, exactly the opposite thing happened.

No one had made the connection between Paul and Chub, but now people could only agree with Alex’s observations. If anything, the controversy that Paul had tried to create had actually led to an influx of readers to his Story Blog. Alex was now fast becoming an the next big thing, leading him to agree with the old saying: “There’s no such thing as bad publicity!”