Who the Fuck is Alex Turner?

The Part With the Text Message

“Fuck.” I heard the man groan. My mum drew in a sharp breath, wide-eyed at the turn of events.

“Oh dear,” She moaned.

“Oh…Sorry!” the girl said. She smiled guiltily and looked at the smashed camera with embarrassment.

“It’s alright. And yeah, that’s me.” Turner said.

Alex Turner? I had no idea who that was. The name held no significance to me. My mum looked at me questioningly. I shrugged in reply. Obviously he was important to this girl, but I didn’t particularly care for the apparent status of this man; rather, I was concerned at the destruction of the camera in which I had invested many memories.

I ran to the camera, bent down and examined the wreckage. I overheard Alex Turner and the girl talking, but he seemed disinterested. It was not long before she left, and then Turner turned to face my mother.

“Christ, I’m really sorry, I’ll pay you back for that,” he spoke apologetically. He crouched next to me and began to scoop the pieces up. I started to put them in my bag, in the hope of salvaging something. As both of us reached for the same piece, we bumped hands and he immediately looked up at me.

“Sorry,” we both said in unison. I let out a nervous laugh, and he smiled warmly. There was something gripping about his smile, something very personal in the look he gave me. I found my eyes lingering on his face for a little too long, and ripped them away as I realised I was staring.

My mum was visibly upset at the sight of her ruined camera. I realised this, and apprehensively intervened.  I was familiar with her capability of being unpredictably confrontational, as she was a rather eccentric, animated woman. She called it her ‘passion’, and insisted it was passed onto me, but I found that to be a troubling notion.

“Look, it’s okay. I’m sure it was an accident.” I said, shooting my mother a look. My cousins stared and murmured to each other as they observed the scene.

“Take my phone number. In case you need to get a hold of me, to help with the er, camera?” Alex said, sincerely.

“Oh it’s oka-”

“No please, I insist.” He said. I complied, handing him my phone. He entered his details. “I’m Alex.”

“Nicola.” I smiled.  He returned the smile. There was a short pause.

“Have I seen you somewhere before?” He said, looking at me peculiarly. His eyes scanned over me quickly, so quickly I normally would have missed it, but his big brown eyes were very much the centre of my attention and I saw their quick movement.

“Uh…no. I don’t think so. Do I look familiar to you?” I suggested.

“Very much so, Nicola, very much so. I’m not sure what it is about you though. I think you resemble a friend of mine.”

“Really? That’s interesting.” I said, not sure how to reply. His gaze was still on me, trying to decipher my familiarity.

“Yeah. It’s weird.” Speaking slowly, yet confidently, he said, “So, I promise you it wasn’t my intention to sabotage this outing with your..” He stopped, watching my cousins, who were now talking to my mother and in turn, curiously watching our conversation unfold.

“My family. They’re my cousins.”

“Your cousins.” He nodded. “You on holiday?”

“No, I live here. But a few of them just came back from overseas for the first time in a while, so we’re celebrating together.”

“That’s lovely, Nicola.” He said, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. The mention of my own name stunned me briefly.

“Are you from around here?” I countered.

“Nah, we’re on tour actually. Got a break here for a while.”

“Tour? Like a holiday tour around the city?”

He chuckled at this, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. “Not exactly.”

“Nicola, honey, we’re waiting for you! Daniel mustn’t miss his train, I’m afraid we’ve got to be off now!” My mum shouted and eyed us both.

I smiled at Alex, entranced by his enigmatic identity. I turned to leave, but he gripped my arm and pulled me back gently.

“Wait. I’ve got tomorrow off and it would be great if you could join me for lunch.” He said hopefully. A lock of his long oaky hair fell onto his face and he brushed it aside.

“…Sure.” His invitation thrilled me, but I was conscious of hiding my excitement.

“Just promise you’ll call.” He added, jokingly.

I replied with a nod, turned, and left. I could feel his eyes on me, but I denied the impulse to look back at him.  Goodbye, Alex Turner.

 ***

I sat at home, at the kitchen table, with the pieces of camera arranged in front of me. There was most likely no recovery for the device; however, the photos had been saved on the memory card which was not broken. My mother, Anne, frowned at me.

“Nicola, that Alex boy, is he going to replace the camera? It was my favourite camera.” She moaned.

“He said he’d help. I’m meeting him tomorrow, Mum.”

“Meeting him? For what?” She was surprised.

“I don’t know. Lunch.” I attempted to conceal my excitement with nonchalance.

“Lunch and a camera?” Anne was only half-joking.

“That’s not entirely fair, is it? It was only an accident.”

“Hmph.” She disapproved.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my phone. A thought flashed through my mind. Should I search his name? Find out why he’s…’known’? Reluctantly, I rejected the idea; I’d just met Alex, and the information I would find would taint my impression of him. I didn’t deserve to know everything about him, just because it was there to know. On the other hand, it might be interesting to know more about him. He must have been referring to a band when he said ‘tour’. I felt so stupid looking back on the moment.

I scrolled down my list of contacts, until I reached his name. He had entered it as just Alex. I fiddled around with my phone anxiously, turning it over in my hands. Should I call him? Only a few hours had passed. It was too early.

I went to my bedroom. Humiliatingly, I still lived with my mum, at the age of 25.

I sat on my bed in the silence. Old memories came creeping up on me and I resolved that I needed to distract myself, somehow. I grabbed my guitar and was immediately calmed by the soft sounds of the classical piece I began to play.  The repetition involved in learning the piece didn’t bother me, so as I played it, again and again, the music only soothed me.

The sun set, Anne cooked dinner, and it didn’t seem like much time had passed before I was finishing my work and crawling into bed. I remembered Alex, and I checked the clock from my bed. It was 11:09pm. I grabbed my phone, found his name, and wrote him a message.

Hi Alex. It’s Nicola. X

I pressed send nervously. I doubted he’d reply anyway. I drifted off into sleep, I don’t know how long for, but was awoken with the loud chime of my phone receiving a message.  Alex [1].

Dear nicola yu hasve a ffabulous behind, loe al 

Wow. I was astonished, speechless, confused and ecstatic all at once. He was clearly drunk. I grinned to myself like a maniac at the thought, trying to stifle a giggle. How was I letting him get away with that? If it had been any other man I would have been engulfed by an immediate feeling of disgust, yet I was swooning at his drunken message.