Mixtape

by LJ Jacobs

I think some people will be able to relate to what I’m about to confess - and may even feel a great sense of shame and guilt as well - for being selfish and shallow in youth isn’t uncommon. And you may now even be sitting at your computer quietly weeping, like I am, remembering that one person from your school days who was never really cool enough to be seen as a friend, and was in reality only tolerated for selfish reasons - like being someone to moan to or as a prop to help a deflated ego. 

I’ll admit it… I was a user. 

I never reciprocated the attention a truly good person once lavished upon me; and I never gave her the credit she truly deserved for being so loyal and kind in a world where such simple attributes are the exception. 

Shame on me.

Indeed, shame on any of us who has ever treated a fellow human being this way…

Image credit: Daniele Sansone on Unsplash

*

I met Cathy in the final years of high school, when kids were required to choose their own subjects to study, which in turn led to a broader social circle. 

I picked drama and so did she. 

I chose his subject because I loved words and wanted to create the stories my dyslexia prevented me from doing in English class. Cathy pick drama because she was such a natural actor. I never told her that at the time. She could do anything, though - comedy, tragedy and her own original scripts. 

In those two years in that studio classroom, I don’t think I ever complimented her once. I would only moan about my own failings in the class and how out of my depth I was, and she, being the sweetheart she was, would listen patiently, sympathise, and big me up. 

She did the job I wanted her to, basically. 

On particularly bad days, when a certain girl as well as grades eluded me, Cathy would be there with something to make me smile. 

She’d tell me a joke or a funny story. Or gift me a half-melted chocolate bar she’d been keeping in the deep pocket of her coat, usually preempted with a friendly nudge. 

One day, after a bad turn as the character O’Brien from our production of ‘1984’, she came up to me and told me how great I was. I sat deflated in the wings of the school auditorium, knowing that it was the worst performance I’d ever given. 

“Don’t be silly,” she said, “you were great. Better than James playing the lead part of Winston Smith. He hammed it up way too much!” 

James was another student in the class. And she was right - he was too hammy. But it was much better than my pedestrian turn. Give me hammy any day over a slow-paced and uninspired presentation! But hearing Cathy praise me was just what I needed at the time. And that was what made her great. That is why I allowed her to tag along. 

She knew the real reason why I wanted to kill it as O’Brien. She knew I wanted to impress the most popular girl in our year. 

Rebecca Bolton was her name.

But Rebecca looked like she couldn’t care less, as usual. She was an absolute stunner and deep down I knew she would never want a plain guy like me. It didn’t stop me from trying, though. I’m glad in the end she never took any interest, for I found out years later she was one nasty person who left a trail of broken-hearted and broke husbands behind her. One even decided to put a stop to the free-flowing traffic of the local stretch of motorway by jumping off an overpass one Monday afternoon. It was such a tragedy. 

The next day I was still down about the play. Cathy came to me before class and handed me a gift. It was a mixtape. It’s hard to believe that people need this explaining to them now, but before the internet, people would record and listen to music on reel-to-reel spools sandwiched in plastic casing, and she had gone to the trouble of selecting and manually recording songs she thought would cheer me up. 

I looked at the names she’d written on the front cover - bordered by hearts and kisses drawn by her own hand. They were a mix I didn’t really care for. 

IN-X-S, Lighthouse Family, Oasis, Van Halen, Enigma, Yazz, O.M.D and UB40.

“Thanks,” I said dismissively, taking the tape and putting it into my back pocket. 

Cath looked crestfallen and broken-hearted. With all the distance between then and now, I could finally see it. I didn’t care at the time, though. Like I said, I was a self-centred, spotty adolescent. 

“You’re welcome,” she said sadly. There was a moment of silence before she said, “Maybe if you’re still down later, you can take it out and have a good look at it! Pay extra attention to the artists I’ve written on the front…”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “I’m just more interested in how I’m gonna get the attention of Rebecca Bolton at the minute, Cath, because being an actor sure isn’t doing it! Maybe I should learn a few chords on the guitar! I’m not gonna be good company today, sorry. I’m gonna need some alone time. I’ll catch you later…”

And… just like that, the chance I never knew was right in front of me was blown. 

Cathy avoided me after that, and I can’t say I blame her. I would have avoided me, too. I was such a selfish, immature idiot who didn’t deserve a good friend like her.  

Of course, I moved on to other girls who would put up with my crap. 

Days turned into months, months turned into years, and the drama students of ‘95 eventually went their separate ways. 

After years of struggling in low- paid jobs, dipping in and out of unsatisfying relationships, I finally came to the realisation that not everything bathed in beauty was necessarily attractive. After mistaking value for the price on numerous occasions, I eventually found stability with a more positive and selfless outlook. Finding myself single once more and filled with regret and longing, I decided to try and find Cath again by using social media. I had been thinking about that ordinary-in-a-good-way heart-of-gold lady a lot lately. 

And I still had her mixtape. 

Which said a lot about the way I must have truly felt. 

I discovered she’d made a profile on the ‘MyLife’ social media platform and that her status was single - if it had been ‘in a relationship’, I would have kept away, seeing it as a sign it was never meant to be and respecting the way things were. 

But it didn’t say that, so into her life I looked, ready to reach out. 

I was overjoyed with her journey. 

I went in blind, starting from the mid 2000s, not wanting to spoil her story…

It started so well.

She kept going from strength to strength. 

She went to university and graduated with honours. 

She became a much-loved drama teacher. 

Her passion was still being on stage, though, and there were photos of high-production plays she was involved with. 

She even had small parts on TV!

I was certain, as I scanned further on, I’d discover that she would now have the main role on some famous primetime show.

But as I scrolled, the tone of her life started to change… And not for the better…

One picture was of her being hugged by her parents, her father trying to look positive at the camera. The caption at the top read ‘We’re gonna beat this’. 

Further down was a picture of her in an upright chair attached to an I.V. drip. The caption above said ‘First day of treatment’ with a sad emoji next to it.

The next pictures were some of the saddest I’ve ever seen. 

Cath lying in a hospital bed, legs swollen beneath surgical stockings, family and nurses around her trying to be upbeat and looking positive. 

There would be days when her face was puffy - obviously from the treatment she was receiving - and days when she was so gaunt it looked painful. 

There were long gaps of time after that. 

The final picture was of her parents cradling an urn next to the river she must’ve dearly loved walking by when she was alive.

She had passed…

Was this now her resting place?

I looked at my keyboard and saw wet patches all over the keys. I touched my face and felt the streams. 

After wiping the tears away - so many of them - I finally went to my desk to search out the mixtape from so long ago. 

It was my desire to go to the place where her ashes had been scattered and pay my respects. I got in touch with her parents, and they were more than happy to accompany me. I didn’t say how badly I used to treat her, but I did reveal my feelings in retrospect. 

As we stood on the scenic riverbank, I said to her mother and father, “I loved Cath. It wasn’t until years later I realised this, but I did love her.” 

“And she loved you,” said her mother. “She often spoke about you and wondered what you were up to these days. She was scared to reach out in case you had a family.”

They turned away and left me to have a quiet moment with Cath in my thoughts. I rummaged around in my pocket and brought out the old dog-eared mixtape. 

“I didn’t know what I could’ve had,” I said beneath my breath. “I’m so sorry, Cath. Sorry for the way I treated you. Why? Why didn’t you tell me you loved me? It may have been the kick up the arse I needed to make me realise what my own feelings were towards you…”

I looked down at the tape from all those years ago and read again the list of artists she’d scrawled on the front. 

IN-X-S,

Lighthouse Family,

Oasis,

Van Halen,

Enigma,

Yazz,

OMD,

UB40.

“If only you had told me,” I whispered again. “We could have done so much… with so little time…”

***

LJ Jacobs

LJ Jacobs was born in Chester, England and raised in North Wales. He lives in a small hamlet and enjoys the quiet life. Most of his days are spent working in the aviation industry - it puts food on the table if not an enthusiasm in the heart. He loves music and writing. His heroes are the bluesman Robert Johnson and the author Ernest Hemingway. He enjoys gentle sports and is a player of poker and chess.