Their argument could be heard across the parking lot.

They came from two completely different backgrounds. Erin grew up in New England in a large seven bedroom home, even though her parents only needed two. She was an only child. The other bedrooms gathered dust, though her father’s rationale was that, “one day I’ll come across an advertisement in the paper,” he proclaimed more than once at a dinner party, “that someone or the other would love to move to our glorious part of the country but couldn’t, because they had five children and everything he has been shown was for a much smaller family and I’ll jump up and say ah ha, I’m your saviour. Please move here I have a seven bedroom home and I’ll sell it to them at a premium.”

“Has that happened yet?” was the normal question

And he would reply, “no not yet. But there’s still plenty of time.” He bought the house very much against his wife’s wishes as she wanted to move closer to their family who lived right bang in the middle of the mid-west. St Louis to be exact. But like most things, Tilda gave into her husband as she always trusted him and still does.

Erin’s father had a job which required him to leave home on Monday and return on Saturday morning because it was better to do that than commute the four hours it took to his office by plane in St Louis. You’re probably just shaking your head and then wondering whether you missed something and should reread what you had just read, but I can assure you, you did read it properly. And yes, it didn’t make any sense 25 years ago and still doesn’t make any sense today.

The only difference between then and now is that Erin grew up to be a very beautiful young lady of 22, with long flowing blonde hair, bright piecing blue eyes and smile that would peel varnish off furniture but, a voice that was simply awful. People ran to the hills when she opened her mouth because her screeching high pitched squeal belonged with the pigs and not in human company. Erin was the idol of her parents’ eyes though. They adored her and thought that anything she said or did was the best thing ever.

Her grandparents were glad that she lived 2000 miles away because they could only take her shrill voice after they had had their weekly dose of single malt scotch whiskey, which meant they had to up their dosage.

John, however, grew up in a different world. He went to the local village school in Coulsdon, Surrey in England, where he was the brightest pupil. He had done exceptionally well in Maths and English and when he finally left the grammar school, the world was literally his oyster.

“Are you going to university?” he was asked and yes, of course, John was going to university. The only problem was he couldn’t make up his mind as to what he was going to study. He finally settled on music, which surprised everyone who knew him. When his A level results were posted they weren’t that good and he was offered admittance to a music school in one of the Welsh valleys near Tredyffrin. His parents weren’t happy.

“That’s so far from home and anyway that’s coal country.” John agreed. He then applied instead to a music conservatory in New England to which he was readily accepted. “But that’s even further away,” his parents moaned.

“But you can visit,” he replied.

“No, we can’t,” replied his parents, “we don’t have that sort of money.”
“It’s ok,” replied John, “in which case I’ll visit often.”
As luck would have it, John showed up at the New England music conservatory the day before the term began and was walking aimlessly across a car park when he heard a high pitched squeal which made him look around to see if he could see a pig. He couldn’t. But what he did see was a beautiful young woman walking by herself talking loudly on her phone and couldn’t understand how someone that pretty, could have a voice that pretty awful.

“Excuse me, miss,” began John taking off his hat and bowing his head, “but was that you I heard from across the car park?”
“Wait a second,” shouted Erin to the person she had been talking to on the phone. “Are you talking to me?” she asked.

John smiled and nodded his head. “I could hear you across the car park and wondered if that were you talking.”
“I’ll call you back,” said Erin and hung up the phone. “Maybe,” she squealed thinking to herself that this well mannered man dressed just as she had hoped that the man she would marry one day would be dressed, was talking to her. “Yes,” she continued and John in order not to be trapped in some ridiculous conversation with someone who squealed put his hat back on and began to walk away after smiling and thanking Erin. “It’s a parking lot,” she shouted after him, “not a car park or whatever you said.”

John stopped and thought for a second. This could go awfully wrong for me he thought and then began his walk again. “Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” Erin shouted. “You didn’t answer my question.”
John knew very well she hadn’t asked a question, but couldn’t let that pass. He stopped and turned around. “I beg your pardon,” he said walking back slowly, “what was the question.”
“I said this is a parking lot, not a car park.”
John smiled. “I’m sorry, in my book that wasn’t a question. That was a statement.”
“Statement, question,” she slapped her hands against her sides dropping her phone on the ground.

John immediately reached down and picked it up, “here is your mobile phone,” he said.

“Cell phone,” she answered, “but thank you.”
“Whatever you say. Cell phone, mobile phone, parking lot, car park, just a different way of speaking.” He tipped his hat to her and continued his walk. He had reached the end of the car park when he heard her shout across the distance.

“Say, what are you doing for dinner?”
“Do you mean supper?” he shouted back.

“This is frigging stupid,” she shouted at him.

“It’s frigging cold, that’s all I know. I think I’m going back home.”
“Me too!” she shouted and then they both began their walk away from each other and they never saw each other ever again.