Waiting for the Punchline

Trevor shuffled his feet again, trying and failing not to focus on that feeling of his bladder expanding. God, he needed to relieve himself but surely bladder must be empty by now. Three times in the last fifteen minutes the toilet had been visited and at least six times since his arrival here , and every single time no more than a dribble escaped. Inhaling a deep breath  and trying  Trevor attempted the technique that one of these self-development books had explained. The book had been purchased three or four years ago to make You the best version of You, you could possibly be, that was what the blurb claimed anyway. ‘Breathe’, Trevor thought, ‘In through your nose and out of your mouth. Or was it in through your mouth and out of your nose? Damn it, which was first? Bloody hell, a re-read should have been done last night. Nose first, mouth first - who knew?’ Trying both ways one after the other did not help. The overwhelming feeling was not calm but the urge to choke. And yet still the urge to urinate. Looking down at his red converse trainers Trevor Mackay-Stephens leant down and touched them both with the index finger of his right hand. Feeling the leg muscles stretch and counting to five he opened them again hoping the movement would somehow bring some calm and control of bladder movements. It didn’t. 

Listening to the compere talk to someone in the audience Trevor stretched his arm behind his neck. The sound through the speakers seemed slightly distorted from this angle but he could hear something about a Meat Loaf song. Trevor stretched out both arms and wished the compere would introduce him before he urinated.

“So, you would do anything for love but not do that.” The slight laughter trickled to the side of the stage where Trevor heard it, staring back down to his converse and desperately resisting trying not to bring out the folded piece of paper from his back pocket which held all the information he had needed for the next five minutes. Currently he didn’t know which urge was the strongest. Removing the paper or going to the bathroom for the seventh time. Trevor resisted both and mentally hurried tonight’s host to quicken the pace.

 Only two hours. A mere one hundred and twenty minutes - , yet it seemed to Trevor, standing side stage, heart racing, nerves jangling like a lifetime ago that he had left the house.  Recalling in his mind’s eye Mandy rolling her bright blue eyes as Trev pulled on his denim jacket and left the house. “See ya kids”, he had shouted up the stairs.

“Where are you going, Dad?”

“Your Dad’s having a mid-life crisis,” Mandy shouted from the living room. “He’s going out to tell his knock-knock jokes to some poor people who have nothing better to do with their lives.”

Trevor had made a casual snorting noise, a half laugh, a half sigh and said, “Love you dear,” and left the house. The comment by Mandy, although not as barbed or malicious as it may have sounded still slightly hurt. A sucker punch to the ribs Trevor would have called it. 

Three weeks ago, when watching a gameshow host talk patronisingly to three contestants, Trevor casually mentioned the idea to Mandy of performing stand-up, stating it was something he had always loved to try. Faced with the words, “silly”, “embarrassing” and “mid-life crisis” during the elimination round didn’t dissuade him but he had hoped for a more positive outcome. Possibly, t throughout the last few days he felt these descriptions were all accurate and other times they were unjust, but he decided that stand-up was going to be attempted, mid-life crisis or no mid-life crisis.  It did not change the fact that it was something Trevor had really wanted to do for several years now. And as the books kept on telling him, life was short, experiences are priceless and being buried with regrets is a no-no. 

“Why on earth would you want to stand-up and have people think you are a fool?” Mandy had said when he had told her of booking himself a spot on the beginner open mic night.

Trevor simply shrugged off the response from his wife and continued sipping the tea he was holding. As Emmerdale boomed through the living room, he realised that she would never understand why he needed to, at least try it and even if he could find the exact words to explain, he didn’t think he would even bother.

Sneaking a glance to the stage and seeing the microphone stand caused his mind to swiftly return to the here and now, the sensation of a full bladder making itself known again. Reason quickly replying that simply could not be the case and the bladder was exercising its flight or fight response. Trevor glanced back at the unmanned microphone stand. Will he use it?  Is it a good prop or simply a security blanket? Was he overthinking it? Maybe he should instead look at his notes?  The compere was still talking to a woman about, well he didn’t know what exactly, he just wished he would hurry up and call out his name. 

He recalled the last time he last made his wife laugh. Was it this year? Last year perhaps? He couldn’t recall. Trevor did remember however how Mandy lifted up her chin and titled back her head back when she laughed at a repeat of Only Fools And Horses on the Dave channel a few months ago. But when did he have that effect? Was it when her sister had come over and they bought a take-away as they had run out of pesto.  Come to think of it, was it him or her sister that had got Mandy into hysterics that time? Mandy had literally cried with laughter and caught a small dose of the hiccups straight afterwards, which made her laugh even more. He was sure it was him. Well not a hundred percent sure but pretty sure. As Trev’s mind jumped from thought to thought his vision locked again to his converse as he questioned the last time he had made a choice for the family? Trevor was momentarily surprised with that leap of thought from laughter to decision-making but went with it, nonetheless. It seemed to take the focus of his bladder at least. He knew the opening gag should be dominating his mind, the one that he proudly wrote on the train last week on the way back from work. The joke about him resembling the TV personality who tells off conning companies and warns the public about cowboy traders, however his mind was being even more skittish than usual.  Another laugh came from the audience as he briefly recalled the last four family holidays they had enjoyed - Valencia, Cyprus and Benidorm twice. Were any of them his suggestions? They had discussed them that was for sure, recalling the times on the laptop looking at blue skies and discussing the benefits of all-inclusive deals with the children. But now thinking on it he wouldn’t have recommended any of these destinations? Would he?  No, it was a joint decision. It must have been? They were a family, a unit, and a partnership. This was no different than when his ancestors got chased by wild beasts. Hormones don’t change. The environment does. Yes, it was just his nerves giving him hell and wanting him to get out of this perceived dangerous situation.  It must have been a joint decision - like the kids’ names. And the colour they finally decided to paint the front door. Joint decisions. 

Trevor listened to the compere chat, (albeit slightly one-sided) with the audience over one of their hair styles, the slight clunking from the speaker indicated that the compere had put the microphone back in its stand. Trevor took a deep breath through his mouth then his nose, his bladder all but forgotten. 

He touched his fingers to the tips of his converse again, straightened up and relaxed the shoulders.  For a reason unbeknownst to him he recalled trying to persuade Mandy that Oggy and Bruce were going to the Download Festival in summer and for old times he would love to join them. Three school mates catching up, putting the world to rights, and of course watching their favourite band in the world AC/DC. It was a non-starter. “We haven’t got the money, Trev. You know that. We can go out somewhere together if you like. Maybe Pizza Express or even a day trip to Buxton or Bakewell. Anyway, you are a bit old for all that silliness.” At the time he realised she was of course right; it was expensive and camping for three days at his age wouldn’t have done his back any good. Yes, it was a silly idea indeed.

But Bruce and Oggy did go without him and loved it. They missed him, they said, but it was incredible and the stories they told sounded brilliant. Many a pint had been drunk and many a memory had been made.

Attempting to nudge his mind back to the present and failing he realised that it was green. He hated green. It was the grey front door he wanted. The grey with a slight metallic shading. Mandy wanted green. There was a compromise, he was sure. Grey or green? They compromised, yes, he remembered now. “Well, we obviously have to agree to disagree”, she has said, “so it looks like a compromise is in order. 

Trevor thought of the uncompromised green door at the front of their home. Come to think about it he wanted Luke as a boy, Jayney if a girl. Not Jayne but Jayney. 

“Jayney?” 

“Yes Jayney.”

 “What about Jen, or Gemma?” 

“I really like Jayney, Mandy. I think we should consider it.”

Trevor loved his children more than he could ever explain. As he tore his eyes away from his feet and poised to walk on to that stage, Trevor knew he loved them more than anything or anyone. He loved Samantha Elizabeth Mackay-Stephens and Alfie Mackay-Stephens to hell and back. He hadn’t thought of the names Luke and Jayney for years. Why did that thought enter his mind now? Would the names make them different people? Would they have acted another way, behaved worse or better, loved him differently? Would Luke have been obsessed with the movie Planes or would Jayney not love anything from J.K Rowling? He supposed their names didn’t matter. Or the colour of the door. Or the fact that he missed Angus Young at the Download festival. 

None of that mattered. Not one bit. He was here now. Right here, right now. Maybe there was only five people in the audience in this run-down bar in Brixton. Maybe there was twenty. Possibly there was a television scout from a cable channel who would discover him and make him a worldwide household name. Maybe five or twenty people would laugh. It didn’t matter. Even if he only made one of them laugh. Or even smile. In fact, even if none of them laughed, that didn’t matter either. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s his first time so be kind. Please welcome the one and only Trevor Mackay-Stephens,”

Trevor walked on stage to the sound of applause and took the microphone from its stand and began to talk about the television personality that looks like him. Tonight, was for him. This was his time. This was his decision.