Chapter 2 overture

There are not many important moments in a person's life. Usually, we can look back on them after the events have passed.Should you talk to that girl, should you brake for the hidden curve ahead, should you stop to put on a condom, and so on. But I've been lucky, I guess you can say that, because I've come across a moment of truth and recognized it instantly.That day, one winter night, as I waited at the end of the Land of Loyalty, I felt the waves of life coming. I was nineteen years old, mature enough to deal with the world, but childish enough to do all sorts of stupid things.That night, as soon as my older brother and younger brother started snoring, I picked up my backpack and slipped out of the bedroom with my Dr. Martin shoes in one hand.There was a creaking sound on the floor, and the sound of sleep talk came from the sister's room. I was so magical that day, stepping high on the wave of life, no one could resist it.

I walked across the living room, so close to my parents on the sofa bed that I could almost touch them, but they didn't even turn over.The firewood has burned out, leaving only a few red lights whispering.The backpack contained all my important items: jeans, T-shirt, second-hand radio, a hundred pounds and a birth certificate.At that time, you only need these to get into the UK.The ticket was on Rosie. I waited for her at the intersection, hiding from the dim halo of street lights.The air was cold as glass, with the spicy hop burnt taste of Guinness. I put three pairs of socks on Dr. Martin's shoes, put my hands deep in the pockets of my German army coat, and listened for the last time to the commotion of our street as the long night flowed by.A woman is laughing, ah, who said you can?

A window slams shut, a rat rustles over bricks, a man coughs, a bicycle whizzes around a corner, and from Basement Fourteen comes the low growl of Crazy Johnny Malone, who is Talking to himself, getting ready for bed.Apart from the noisy couple, the suppressed whimpering, and the intermittent hooting of herons, the night was very quiet. I thought of the fragrance on Rosie's neck, and couldn't help smiling at the sky.I heard the town bells announcing midnight.From the Church of Jesus, St. Pads and St. Michaelina, the round and strong melody descended from the sky, like a celebration, celebrating the secret New Year of Rosie and me.

The clock struck one o'clock at midnight, and I began to fear.There was a slight rustle and heavy footsteps in the backyard. I straightened up, but Rosie didn't turn over the tail wall.Perhaps someone felt guilty about coming home late at night and crawled home through the window.Sally Horne's newborn baby at No. 7 cried, a thin, frustrated whimper that continued until Sally finally got up and sang to her: I know where I'm going... The painted room is beautiful... When the clock strikes two o'clock, I feel like I've been kicked in the ass.I jumped over the tail wall like a slingshot, and jumped into the backyard of Number Sixteen.The place has been cursed since I was born, but we kids took it anyway, ignoring dire warnings.The yard is littered with beer cans, cigarette butts and lost virginities.I jumped four steps at a time, and jumped up the ruined steps, not afraid of being heard.I'm pretty sure I've seen her crazy coppery curls, hands clenched on her hips, where the hell have you been?

The floors were cracked, the stucco walls were pitted, and the debris was scattered all over the place. The wind was cold and no one was there.I found a note in the living room, ripped out of a kid's school workbook.The light coming in through the broken window painted patches of light on the bare floor.The note danced with the light, as if it had been placed for a hundred years. At that moment, I felt that the tide of life changed. It turned ninety degrees abruptly, so violently that I couldn't resist it. I didn't take the note with me.Before I left Number Sixteen, I had the content in my heart and tried to believe it for the rest of my life.I left the note in place, went back to the intersection and stood waiting in the dark, watching the wisps of white mist I exhaled float towards the street lamps, and listening to the bell ringing past three, four, and five o'clock.As the night faded into a sad light gray, a milk truck on the corner rattled along the gravel road to the dairy farm, and I was still waiting for Rosie Daly at the end of the "Field of Loyalty".