Beyond the end

Chapter 4. Voicemail messages.

Los Angeles
Peach Pit
The work evening for Mr. Busicchio was coming to an end. Little turnout to the place, even for an midweek day. It hasn't been the same for a few years. A few more tables to be released and he could have gone home. Among them one was occupied by a well-known couple at the Peach Pit, tangled up in a conversation about choosing the name of the imminent unborn child. David proposed the name of his father, Mel, while Donna, who already imagined the endless discussions with Felice to whom the dentist had never come in love, would have liked to call his son Ethan; they simply liked that name. In any case, they were very excited about the idea of becoming parents, after years of attempts finally the crowning of a dream.
"Guys, why not call him Nat? The name for a good fork, what will be the little Silver!" Smile at 32 teeth, Nat had appeared before them with a solution that, to tell the truth, had been warmly welcomed.
Donna, with a little embarrassment: "Um, yes Nat, we'll think about it, but thank you for your contribution."
"Already, we'll think about it," David said, looking away, "prouded";
Nat caught the sarcasm, but those were always his boys "Nathan is a big name"
The doors opened wide and Steve and Brandon stepped in.
"Busicchio early, two burgers at the 8 table, well cooked!" Nat would have recognized that voice in a million. He couldn't believe it, neither in his ears nor in his eyes, it seemed to him that they were throwing a bad joke. But he surrendered to the facts when he saw David splashing in the direction of the newcomer and affectionately hugging him "Brandon! What are you doing here? What a nice surprise!" And Donna, armed with a belly, struggled to get up from the bench "boys, but does it seem like a way to behave? Playing with a pregnant woman's emotions like this" and melted into a smile, replacing her husband in Walsh's arms.
Steve put a hand on Nat's shoulder, still speechless and with shiny eyes "get back man, he's not a ghost; it's Brandon, do you remember the Minnesota guy he served at your tables?"
"Of course I remember, come here bad boy, get hugged!!".
Brandon was as happy as he thought he hadn't been for a long time, maybe years. Some of the closest friends ever surrounded him and flooded him with affection, inside the place that had been a second home for him. He didn't want to be anywhere else at the time; he had the feeling of being right at the center of the world. His world. "How much do you stop?" He asked with a little grimace of pain Donna.
"Only 3 months; I'm here for work."
"Only 3 months?" Said Nat "But it's an eternity, I don't know if I'm ready to put up with you all this time again...come here, get hugged again" and everyone laughed, took each other, winked. After a time that seemed endless, the group (or rather, a part) had repacked around what had been its pin for years. And that he was now back to reclaiming his place. Although he was still not fully aware of it.
Brandon took a quick look at Donna. She knew that in no time Kelly would learn about his return to the city and regretted not calling her. What really happened? Since when didn't his pride allow him to pick up a phone? Say hello? Warn his friends?
London
JT was waiting in Brenda's living room
"Let's be late" JT said sonorously
"I know... I know.. I did"
The phone rang "let the voicemail answer" thundered Brenda from the bathroom "it will be my mother at this time"
Three rings.
Hi I'm Brenda Walsh I'm not at home leave a message I'll call you back as soon as possible"
"Hi stanger, I'm Dylan" just felt a little embarrassed break "we haven't heard from each other in a long time I know. I wanted to tell you that I'm in town for a few days. Here maybe you wanted to have a coffee with me. Call me at 75989023" you felt the final beep which was like a blade for Brenda.
JT feared what he would see on Brenda's face as soon as she got out of the bathroom. He had met Dylan in the two years he had lived with Brenda. He was a nice guy, a little moody and elusive but he could well understand what fascinated Brenda so much.
They hadn't talked about him since he was gone. Brenda hadn't talked about it and he didn't ask.
Brenda came out of the bathroom with a funeral face. It was absurd how that voice went up like foam from the bowels of his soul and devoured everything. And she was always defenseless.
SHe approached the answering machine where the number 1 was flashing. A message. Press the delete button.
"The voicemail does not contain messages"
"Let's go," she told JT.