The footsteps on the other side of the door would be getting nearer now.
Artie could almost hear them.
He went to adjust his thin, blue tie yet again but realised that he was still holding onto the coffee mug in one of his hands. He turned around quickly to put it down onto the breakfast bar behind him, suddenly thinking that perhaps he should have put it into the dishwasher out of the way.
Maybe though, he should have had a beer instead or a glass of wine, or bourbon even, then maybe he wouldn't now be feeling so goddam nervous.
Too late for any in decisions. His dinner guest would be here any second.
He now looked at his reflection yet again in the mirror that was positioned high upon the kitchen wall. There were, in actual fact quite a lot of mirrors in this particular home. They really gave a feeling of immense space, although that wasn't really an issue in an exquisite, lavish, well appointed apartment such as this.
Having limited space was not one of the things that was in short supply here!
This apartment was the beneficially of everything you could ever want or desire in a multi millionaires home.
And that included the fantastic views out over Central Park that it's owner was so very fond of.
He now took in a huge breath and suddenly looked down at his hands.
They were trembling. Actually trembling.
He then bit down onto his bottom lip. A habit he'd actually maintained throughout his life. It was a nervous reaction to anything he found that took him out of his comfort zone and he scolded himself for feeling this way in his very own home.
He smoothed down his shirt and adjusted his tie once again.
This was terrible. Why on earth was he feeling like this?
His dinner companion was his oldest and dearest friend. Someone whom he'd actually grown up with, treated almost like a brother, more than a brother in fact and had shared all sorts of experiences with, laughed with, cried with............... Argued with.
Artie bit at his bottom lip again.
Yes, they had fought. They had fought dangerously like cat and dog, with rows and arguments that could so very often be frenzied, hurtful and sometimes just downright spiteful.
To onlookers who had witnessed their bickerings and unpleasantness towards one another, it would seem that some of their arguments could have been totally unrepairable. And maybe if it had of been between two other people who were not Simon and Garfunkel, it probably would have.
But these two were very different. These two had something really unique going on. Something above everything else.
Something that was a lot stronger than anyone could ever see.
It was bond.
An extremely special bond that held them so tightly together, that even they could not fully understand it.
Artie had now started to pace in a tight little circle around his ginormous, open plan kitchenette area, contemplating something. He had a finger placed lightly onto his lips and a hand pulling at the back of his curly head of hair.
He was nervous and very anxious and was wondering where the best place for him to stand was, as his friend arrived.
Should he actually be standing right here, just waiting.
Would it be better if he just left the door on the catch and go over and sit on the sofa. He could then act sort of cool and almost off handed as his friend would have to then come in and go over to him.
What about going out onto the patio, where he'd been standing just moments before. Surely that would be an even better option.
His friend would then have to walk all the way through into the apartment and then also go outside.
When he joined him they could then start a conversation about the view and how beautiful Central Park looked at this time of year. It could then lead onto that fabled concert they did together, the one Artie had been reminiscing about earlier.
Yes, that could work. It would definitely break down any barriers that may have unexpectedly started to build since the last time they had spoken, which was quite possible, knowing the ferocity of their past. It may also prevent him from becoming more nervous than he already was about the appearance of his friend. Something that he found to be most unusual.
He took in a breath and gently began lifting the catch that held the door locked.
Maybe though it would look more friendly and welcoming if he was to actually stand here in the doorway or even out in the corridor waiting for the lift doors to his apartment to open.
Perhaps his friend would actually appreciate the gesture of being waited for without having to walk in on his own. Or perhaps he would find it a little bit intimidating having to be escorted inside, like a nervous child on his first day at kindergarten.
It was hard for Artie to know what was the best form of tact here, for although he had shared most of his life with this one particular person and they both knew things about one another that no one else could ever know, it was now beginning to dawn on Art Garfunkel, something that he'd never, ever realised before now.
That he never really knew his friend at all.
Suddenly it was all too late to do anything, as he then heard the lift doors opening. Artie had no time to scoot off back inside, besides he was now curious to see how his old friend looked, how he was, how the years apart from one another had treated him.
He was excited.
Without even taking a breath or even thinking about it, he opened the door of his apartment, just as the lift doors slid apart revealing a lone figure, looking somewhat surprised.
He was dressed in all black, except for a white round necked t shirt and a pair of bright, white sneakers. His hair, once jet black and would have matched his dress code, was now the mixture between the two colours that he had chosen to wear. His hair was greying, not over dramatically but greying all the same. There was also less of it than there ever was before and Artie knew immediately that he'd now ditched the hairpiece!
His friend also appeared to look somewhat shorter than he once did, which was surprising but maybe it was because he had lost weight. His once quite muscular stature had somehow disappeared and his jacket seemed to swamp him a little bit. But he looked healthy and his deep, dark brown eyes still had that all too familiar, mischievous twinkle about them. His smile too was warm and just as friendly looking as it had always been as he now stepped out from the elevator and came forward, speaking the words that he had been far too long in saying:
"Hullo Artie, long time no see".
Art Garfunkel, his lean figure towering over his small friend by a good 6 or 7 inches, found himself stepping forward towards him and having no hesitation at all in embracing his friend before even uttering a single word to him.
This was no publicity stunt, this was not done out of a sheer duty to their managers satisfaction or for the tabloid press who had hounded them unmercifully during their time as the most popular singing, songwriting duo ever in chart music history.
No, this was just the two of them together, alone now realising that although the years had been tough on them both with endless fights, arguments and fallings out, they were in fact and above all else, still extremely good friends who cared very much for one another .
Paul Simon though, had never been afraid of the establishment. If he thought something was not right, he would say so in no uncertain terms. He was a little street fighter of a fellow and by his own admission, very self opinionated.
It had always been easy for him to dictate the pace and the direction that the duo went in during their time together, for he loved being in charge and because Artie was slightly more reserved and basically quiet, it was very easy for him to do just that.
The troubles between the two only really arose, so it was believed, when Art Garfunkel had chances of his own to branch out a bit more and live without the confinements of the group. But this was not altogether strictly true.
The wounds ran a whole lot deeper than just that and were also a lot more personal.
"How ya doing?". Artie now asked, his friend, mimicking Paul's broad smile with one of his own.
"I'm great. You?". Paul now asked.
Artie nodded, then stretched his arm out to allow Paul to enter the apartment first. As Paul walked by him, Artie noticed that he had a guitar case strapped to his back and wondered for a moment why he had not felt it whilst he was embracing him.
"I see you've come prepared". He quipped, as he followed Paul inside.
Paul turned around briefly.
"Well, you know me, Artie". He answered, now releasing himself from it, "It never is very far from my side".
"Or your back". Artie smiled, in that slow deliberate voice of his.
Paul, realising why he was saying that smiled to himself.
"Yeah, that too I guess". He answered.
So far so good.
The two friends were at least being civil towards one another, at the moment and even making each other smile, which was always a good thing.
They had always been able to do just that though. They shared the exact same sense of humour, could always make one another laugh and were very often, in the past found giggling together in the recording studio when no one else had any idea what on earth it was that had cracked them both up. Friends did that though. It was virtually an unwritten law, to have stuff going on that no one else would ever be able to understand.
But then tensions began to grow between them, as deadlines demanded to be met. More and more pressure started being put upon them both to release more material and the laughter that had been the basis of their friendship, started to abate somewhat and was slowly but surely being replaced. This at first by cruel bouts of banter between the two, that in time, escalated to disagreements and then full blown rows, with the both of them absolutely refusing to back down against the other.
Scheduled days in the recording studio were being totally lost due to all the bickering and sniping they did, which led to deadlines becoming more and more urgent, thus putting much more pressure on them, which in turn then made them fight even more.
It was a definite case of, stop the world I want to get off, for the both of them!
"Dinner will be a little while yet". Artie stated, now walking his lean frame around the back of the breakfast bar:
"I seemed to have gotten my timings all wrong".
"And that is so unlike you, isn't it Arthur". Smiled Paul, glancing up at his friend, as he was obviously referring to when the two of them had performed together.
Artie grinned back at him. He was well used to Paul's little quips and his subtle wit and found it comforting to know that he still had it.
"Anyway....... It doesn't matter". Paul went on,
"I did eat breakfast this morning. Edie insisted".
Artie nodded with the acknowledgement of Paul's third wife, but resisted the temptation of asking Paul how she was or anything else about her.
He knew who she was. Had even heard some of her music for
she had once been in a band herself, the lead singer in fact only a few years ago, so she was all too familiar with this strange industry that was the music business and like her husband, knew the people and personalities that surrounded it.
But Artie didn't really know her personally very much at all.
Paul had kept this particular marriage very private from his old friend, but Artie was cool with that. It certainly hadn't bothered him and he also wasn't at all surprised that Paul had found someone from within the industry to marry.
No, That hadn't surprised him at all.
"Not too early for a beer then?". Artie now asked, moving towards the huge refrigerator that took up almost the one side of a whole wall.
"No, no not at all. That'll be great, thanks". Paul answered, now removing the guitar from out of its case.
He then went over to sit himself down on one of the lavish sofas a little way off from the kitchen area of the huge open plan apartment and laid his guitar across his lap.
Artie was a bit disappointed that he had chosen to sit there. He would have quite liked it if Paul had wandered out onto the open varranda, after all the doors to the outside world had been left wide open on purpose as an invitation for him to do just that.
The quietness that surrounded the apartment was now gently disturbed by the soft strumming of Paul's lone, acoustic guitar. It was so very soothing to Art's ears and a twisting sensation hit his stomach as the sound evoked distant memories of their shared time together.
He took in a breath as he reached inside the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of ice cold beer, pinging off their metal tops on the bottle opener, before walking quietly over to where his friend was sitting.
Paul didn't look up. He was busy now, strumming a very quiet tune that Artie did not recognise but was very beautiful all the same.
He placed the bottle down on the coffee table in front of his friend without saying a word and Paul didn't acknowledge him either. He didn't even glance up, not even for a second. Artie didn't mind though, he didn't want to disturb the lovely sound he could hear or prevent it from playing. He wanted it to carry on. He wanted it to continue, he needed to hear it.
Artie then sat down himself on one of the other settees, opposite to Paul and put a slender, faded denim clad leg over the top of the other one. Then resting an elbow onto the arm of the settee he took a swig from the bottle, eyeing up his friend most intensely.
But still Paul did not look up.
His eyes seemed to be closed tight, or maybe he was just looking down, Artie from this position couldn't really tell which. But one thing was for sure, Paul Simon had become so lost within his music, that he seemed to be oblivious to all of his surroundings. He so often used to do that, even when they performed together all those years previously. It was a familiar trait of Paul's just to close his eyes, shut everything else out and become wrapped up completely within the sound of his guitar. Artie had always envied Paul this power, for he was quite unable to ever do it, even when Paul had insisted that he should at least try.
But Artie was nervous, especially when performing. He'd always been that way and was never able to shut out everything. Constantly he'd be looking at the audience or the sound engineers, if they happened to be in the recording studio.
Artie was extremely self critical, but he was more concerned with what the critics thought about him!
As Paul now began to sway his shoulders rhythmically to the soft contours of the tune he was playing, something within Artie suddenly wished that he could also join in. It could have been just like in the old days when he would meet up with Paul and his ideas for a brand new song. Paul would then present his golden voiced friend with words that had been scrawled hurriedly on little bits of paper, some of which were even crumpled up because they had been rescued from out of a bin.
Whole lines on some of the pieces of paper had been scribbled out, only to reappear later on. Words had been changed and changed again. This had been raw stuff, very raw stuff indeed. But Artie was well able to navigate his way around the scrawl and scribbles in a way that no one else could ever do and then lace his wonderful, charmed voice over the precious lyrics and help them to come alive and leap out from the crumpled up bits of paper.
These were the good days, the exciting days when neither of them could know the enormity of each of their individual talents and then what ultimately lay ahead for them both. They were happy and excited about the prospect of their futures but more than that, they simply loved being together.
This was before all the arguments, the fall outs, the differences of opinions that would tear them apart. But at least it wasn't forever.
At least, for now anyway they were on speaking terms and had actually chosen to see one another on a social level, rather than being forced together by an over enthusiastic record producer, who could only see dollar signs lighting up in his eyes.
Artie continued to watch and listen with quiet admiration of his former very close and special friend. His sparkling blue eyes did not leave Paul's face, not even for the minimal of seconds, just as Paul's eyes did not once look up from his guitar.
Sitting here together, they were polar opposites to one another, both in their looks and how each of them behaved.
Eventually Paul stopped his strumming. The tune coming to a faded conclusion and he now reached over for the cold bottled beer.
He took a hefty glug, still not even glancing at the man sat opposite to him.
"That was very beautiful". Artie said, in that slow drawl of his.
"Thank you". Paul answered politely, before taking another glug from his bottle.
Artie watched in silence, for a moment as Paul put the bottle back down again and then began flicking his fingers absentmindedly over the guitar strings.
"Does it have a name?". Artie then asked. "You know, The tune you just played? As it got a title?".
"No, not really". Paul sort of mumbled, lowering his head closer towards his guitar, determined not to give him any sort of eye contact.
Artie leaned back into the settee a little more. A silent sign to Paul that he did not require being looked at, if Paul felt that he couldn't or didn't want to. Artie knew his friend so incredibly well that he could almost predict his feelings and was almost able to tell also what he was, in fact thinking.
Even after all their years apart, that had not changed and Artie being Artie knew just how to play him.
"Not really? ...........". He now repeated. "Well, it either has a name or it hasn't".
Paul strummed his fingers gently and nervously over the guitar strings again, as if he was trying to work out a different tune to play.
"I mean, it should be called something at least. A beautiful piece of music like that must really have a name". Artie went on.
"It doesn't have to". Paul mumbled, still looking down.
"Well of course it does". Artie smiled.
He had now become slightly amused by his friends reluctance to tell him what it was called, for he was sure that Paul wouldn't have let such an important thing as that go amiss. He was always a stickler for a title of anything he did, even if it was incomplete.
He believed that the title was just as important as the tune itself.
That's why Artie knew that Paul wasn't coming completely clean about any of this. He knew his friend far too well to have the wool pulled over his eyes like that.
"Come on". Artie persisted, "It has a name, I know it does. Just tell me what it is".
"OK, okay then........ it's called Artie right". Paul suddenly spat out.
"The tune is called Artie".
Art Garfunkel widened his sparkling blue eyes, his ears not fully digesting what it was he had just heard his friend say.
That very beautiful piece of music that he had just this minute been played to him was actually named after him?
Well it had to be!
How many other Artie's did Paul know, right?
He stared at his friend in disbelief for a moment as Paul began strumming at his guitar once again.
Paul still did not look up, even if his friend had now suddenly gone silent. But it was only for a minute or two, for now he began goading his former partner into perhaps even more revelations.
"Are there any words to it?". Artie now asked.
"No". Paul laughed, shaking his head as if the question was a stupid one.
He still did not look up as he then went on:
"Although there are plenty I could have used" .
"You should have done. It would be a pity not to have any lyrics". Art now said, uncrossing his legs and rising to his feet.
"The words might be deemed somewhat controversial". Paul continued, as he strummed a few more chords on his guitar.
"Or detrimental". Artie added.
"Agreed". Paul nodded.
He still did not look up as Artie now walked out onto the patio area outside. He was momentarily lost within the thought that Paul Simon had written a piece of music specifically for him.
Although this was not the first time he had done such a thing.
Paul had actually written many, many songs with Artie in mind, the most famous being, The only living boy in New York as well as So long Frank Lloyd Wright.
But there had actually been many others too.
Other more subtle ones that not everybody knew about, but Artie did. He knew each and every single one of them.
Paul had made it no secret to Artie that their most famous song together, Bridge over troubled water was about his friendship towards his best friend. The song was influenced by that very fact and was the reason for Artie's superb interpretation and execution of this most greatest of songs.
When he sang it, it was heartfelt and sincere which was how Paul wanted it to be sung, however this in turn did lead to enormous jealousy and resentment on Paul's part. He always felt that he should have been credited more, at the time by the songs success, because he was the writer of it and not how Art Garfunkel sang it.
Bridge over troubled water was essentially Paul's baby. It was written with his feelings, his pain and his suffering at wanting his best friend to know how badly he wanted and desperately needed him to know that he would always be there for him. It was written at a time when he felt that Artie was drifting away from him. The closeness and the deep bond that they had once shared was ebbing further away and Paul was feeling more and more alone without him.
But he was still constantly at pains to show Artie that whatever might befall his friend in the future, he would always be there for him, his shoulder to lean on, the person to wipe away his tears of insecurities and painfulness.
In fact, what Paul was really saying in the song was, Don't leave and forget about me because I will always be here for you.
He was also secretly wishing that Artie was saying these exact same words back to him, that's why in the very beginning he was so insistent that it was Artie who would be the one to sing the song.
Paul needed Artie to sing it, for the simple reason that these were the words that he would have liked Artie to have said back to him.
It really was that simple.
Paul felt as if he was losing his best friend and allie and the person he most loved in the whole world like no other and there was nothing he could do now to stop it.
Instead of being happy and supportive about Artie's wishes to expand his career further into acting, Paul was now fast becoming moody, depressive and very insecure, which in turn drove a huge wedge much more deeply into both of their hearts. This then created tensions, falling outs, bitterness and anger.
It probably was this song, above everything else and despite its enormous global success, that actually became the single reason for the break up of Simon and Garfunkel as recording artists.
Of course there had been other songs written by Paul with Artie in mind, during their years together. It would have been hard for Paul not to have been influenced by his best friend and partner, after all Paul Simon was a method writer. This meant that he wrote from the heart and about things that were actually going on around him. He just couldn't churn out songs that had no baring in his everyday life or how he was feeling at the time of writing a particular song. He wasn't able to write on demand like that, about things that meant nothing at all to him.
It was probably the reason why there were not so many love songs or boy meets girl, boy loses girl kind of scenarios in the extended Paul Simon songwriting library.
Paul also wrote for the love of songwriting, not for any financial gain. He simply loved doing it. As he has said many times before, songwriting was a source of therapy for him. It helped him to cope with the difficulties surrounding his depression and it was also a huge help for him to try and make sense of the world.
Even after he and Artie had split, Paul found that he was still writing for his best friend. The song, American Tune was certainly one that he wrote with Artie in mind to sing it. Also Slip Slidin Away was another.
The commercially successful Still Crazy After All These Years, was another he wrote about Artie and actually referred to a surprise meeting he once had with him.
Of course all of these songs were all very subtle in their presentation towards being about Art Garfunkel. But Paul was and always has been very influenced by Artie and more especially by his own feelings towards him.
Artie, of course was extremely wise to all of this. He knew the subtle way in which Paul worked. But this tune however, that he had just had played to him, was something else.
It actually had Artie's name as the title.
There was no disputing then, just who it was for!
Having Paul do this, actually having his name put to a tune had humbled the golden haired, golden voiced singer. The only other time Paul had ever done this for anyone, was way back in the 60's, for his first ever love, Kathy in the aptly named Kathy's song.
This gesture of Paul's had given a warm, satisfying glow into the heart of Art Garfunkel.
Now the only thing that would make his whole day complete was if they were to spontaneously start singing together.
That, thought Artie would simply be the icing on the cake!
He now looked out beyond the the scenery before him. Central Park was now completely bathed in warm, golden sunshine and the leaves on the trees were just beginning to show the first signs of Autumn giving the whole area an exceptional glow. It was truly a wonderful sight and he never, ever got tired of stepping out onto this balcony, leaning on the wrought iron railings and taking it all in.
As he breathed in the city air, he suddenly became aware of the soft, soothing sound of Paul Simon's guitar gently playing yet another tune, just behind him, this time though it was instantly recognisable.
Scarborough Fair was one of Artie's favourites.
He loved the simple, flowing melodies of this song. The way the lyrics danced over the tune in a rhythmical manner. It felt as if you could just keep on adding and adding more and more verses to it and it would never get boring.
Artie felt his hand start to tap onto his thigh as he then started mouthing the words to the song quietly to himself.
Or so he thought.
Paul had seen him, through the open doorway. He had sneaked a quick peek whilst his friend had his back to him and could see that Art Garfunkel was ready to sing.
Paul smiled to himself. If there was any song that would get the two of them singing in harmony again, it would be this one, for sure.
Spurred on by Artie's apparent willingness to let go of his voice, Paul strummed his guitar a little louder. It was still gentle but had a bit more bite to it now, urging his one time partner to fully let go of that wonderful, cherubic, tenor voice and release it out into the open once again.
Artie, started to throw his head back a little. He was taking in a small breath. Paul knew the signs.
Artie didn't make a big thing out of singing. He didn't have to synch himself up or anything like that and he certainly didn't need to do any deep breathing exercises first. Artie's singing voice was a naturally, well rehearsed machine. It was always ready and more than willing to burst into song.
He had always found singing as easy to do as actually talking. In fact, on times especially on stage or doing interviews the singing was a lot easier for him than the talking ever was.
Art Garfunkel was an essentially shy person and he made no excuses for it.
Even with the passing of years that naturally bought on maturity and confidence, Art Garfunkel remained quiet and reserved.
During their time together, it was very often Paul who was the spokesperson and Artie was more than happy to just sit back and let him do it.
It wasn't because he didn't have an opinion on anything, because he did hold very strong beliefs on most things. He just went about it in a very different way than most people.
Paul often used to call Artie a stubborn sonofabitch if his friend refused to cooperate on certain things or give him a reason why. This was purely because Artie had his own views about things and would keep them pretty much to himself whenever possible, until Paul became so enraged by him sometimes, that Artie would mostly end up telling him anyway.
That was the measure of their unique friendship.
They could bring out the very best in one another but also the very worst.
Still strumming his guitar, Paul Simon had now got up from his position on the settee and was now walking towards Artie out on the patio, where the sun's rays glinted momentarily on Paul's guitar, catching Artie's eye. He was so very pleased that his friend had joined him out here and he smiled gratefully.
Still Paul refused to look up at him though, but that was alright. He can be forgiven if he felt just a tad uncomfortable. That's why he had bought the guitar with him in the first place. It wasn't because he thought that the both of them could have a good old jamming session this afternoon, although Artie wouldn't have been against the idea.
It wasn't either that Paul was desperate to play the aforementioned Artie to him either.
No the real reason was because Paul's guitar was a comfort blanket, something to take his mind off from what was really happening. If things got frosty, out came the guitar. If Paul was confronted with something he didn't agree with or asked about something he didn't like, out would come the guitar again.
He always had it with him, just in case.
Paul was now leaning against a far wall, his back turned away from the view of Central Park, that stretched out as far as the eyes could see, just as if he was afraid of heights or something.
Artie knew he was not, but thought perhaps the passing of years had developed this phobia, so said nothing. Instead he suddenly let his voice soar into the opening line of the song:
Are you going to Scarborough Fair..............
Immediately Paul closed his eyes at the sound of Artie's effortless vocals as they danced over the words that he had written, in what felt like a million years ago.
instantly the two of them were now both transported together, back to a much happier time, when things were so new and exciting and all the stuff that had happened which ultimately strained their relationship hadn't even taken place.
Their voices and the one lone guitar were now in perfect unison as they let go of all of their inhibitions, past feuding and difficulties to be transported back to a different time.
Their harmonies soared way out into the open air and danced effortlessly over the tops of the treetops below them.
If the people down there in Central Park just happen to look up, if there were microphones and speakers also there present, they would surely be treated to once again hearing the beautiful melodies and harmonies of two of America's greatest ever ambassadors to the music industry.
Ladies and Gentlemen.
Simon and Garfunkel.