Nick Hornby - High Fidelity

High Fidelity
http://www.fictionbook.ru/author/hornby_nick/high_fidelity/hornby_high_fidelity.html
Page 93 of 112
6/20/2006
know we nearly got somewhere; I know that if I had any guts I would tell her that she was right, and
wise, and that I needed and loved her, and I would have asked her to marry me or something. It’s just
that, you know, I want to keep my options open, and anyway, there’s no time, because she hasn’t
finished with me yet.
“Do you know what really annoys me”
“Yeah. All the stuff you just told me. About the way I keep my options open and all that.”
“Apart from that.”
“Fucking hell.”
“I can tell you exactly—exactly—what’s wrong with you and what you should be doing about it, and
you couldn’t even begin to do the same for me. Could you”
“Yeah.”
“Go on, then.”
“You’re fed up with your job.”
“And that’s what’s wrong with me, is it”
“More or less.”
“See You haven’t got a clue.”
“Give me a chance. We’ve only just started living together again. I’ll probably spot something else in
a couple of weeks.”
“But I’m not even fed up with my job. I quite enjoy it, in fact.”
“You’re just saying that to make me look stupid.”
“No, I’m not. I enjoy my work. It’s stimulating, I like the people I work with, I’ve got used to the
money … but I don’t like liking it. It confuses me. I’m not who I wanted to be when I grew up.”
“Who did you want to be”
“Not some woman in a suit, with a secretary and half an eye on a partnership. I wanted to be a legalaid
lawyer with a DJ boyfriend, and it’s all going wrong.”
“So find yourself a DJ. What do you want me to do about it”
“I don’t want you to do anything about it. I just want you to see that I’m not entirely defined by my
relationship with you. I want you to see that just because we’re getting sorted out, it doesn’t mean that
I’m getting sorted out. I’ve got other doubts and worries and ambitions. I don’t know what kind of life I
want, and I don’t know what sort of house I want to live in, and the amount of money I’ll be making in
two or three years frightens me, and … ”
“Why couldn’t you have just come out with it in the first place How am I supposed to guess What’s
the big secret”
“There’s no secret. I’m simply pointing out that what happens to us isn’t the whole story. That I
continue to exist even when we’re not together.”
I would have worked that out for myself, in the end. I would have seen that just because I go all fuzzy
around the edges when I don’t have a partner, it doesn’t mean that everybody else does.
4. (In front of the TV, the following evening.)
“ … somewhere nice. Italy. The States. The West Indies, even.”
“Excellent idea. What I’ll do is, tomorrow I’ll get hold of a box full of mint Elvis Presley 78s on Sun,
and I’ll pay for it that way.” I remember the Wood Green lady with the errant husband and the amazing
singles collection, and feel a quick pang of regret.
“I presume that’s some kind of sarcastic male record collector joke.”
“You know how broke I am.”
“You know I’ll pay for you. Even though you still owe me money. What’s the point of me doing this
job if I have to spend my holiday in a tent on the Isle of Wight”
“Oh yeah, and where am I going to find the money for half a tent”
We watch Jack Duckworth trying to hide a fifty-pound note he won on the horses from Vera.
“It doesn’t matter, you know, about the money. I don’t care how little you earn. I’d like you to be
happier in your work, but beyond that you can do what you like.”