Dirty Old Man (A True Story) (13 page)

     “Bloody hell it’s freezing out there.” He said.

     “Can I borrow a coat please?” I asked, looking out at the heavy rain.

     “I can’t petal, sorry. If you turn up at home wearing my coat, they’re going to know I’ve seen you and they’ll start asking you all kinds of questions. You know what your dad’s like, I’m sure you don’t want that do you?”

     “No I suppose not.”

     I stepped out into the cold reality of consequences and made my way around to the park. It looked nothing like I remembered when I got there. The old Portakabin had been pulled down and all that stood were a couple of the old climbing frames and a set of swings.

I sat on one of the swings and looked out at the space where the
Portakabin used to be. There was a rectangle of concrete which I presumed had been its foundations. I’d had more fun and good memories in the space of that rectangle than I’d had in my whole life.

I moved from the swings that were always my favourite when I was younger, and took shelter from the rain underneath the smaller of the two climbing frames. I examined the wood and smiled as I saw some familiar carvings;

‘Moll woz ‘ere 1991’ and ‘Beryl loves Mark IDST’ (If Destroyed Still True).

I cried for my wasted youth and I mourned for the family I’d never have. Suddenly it didn’t feel so great to be me. If I was so great, why did I hurt people? And why was I hiding underneath a climbing frame alone, on a school day? I was beginning to wish I’d just gone to school. Everything around me was functioning fine - I was dysfunction.

I climbed out and stared at the slide for a moment, I remembered playing in that exact spot as a child, in this kind of weather too. We’d collect snails and race them down the slide.

I limped my heavy heart to the next climbing frame. I remember it looked huge when I was younger and was unable to use the monkey bars. This was the ‘big kids’ climbing frame, most of them walked along the top of the bars but I could never do that for fear of slipping through the gaps.

I climbed to the top and sat on the end bar, my feet dangling about six feet from the ground, watching the lightening as it lit up the cornfield which sat behind the park.

I closed my eyes as the rain pelted my face, and offered myself to the blue electric that shot across the sky. I willed it to hit me just the once and finish me off.

It didn’t happen so I jumped down to the ground and decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to go for a little walk; somewhere I hadn’t dared go for a long time.

     The conifer trees still stood tall at the park entrance, when we were younger, we used to climb onto the concrete post where the old gate used to be and we’d pull the conifer down as far as possible. One of us would hold on tight and the others would let it go. We’d shoot high up into the air until the old man who lived next to them came out with his rifle and started firing pellets at us.

I walked around the corner until I came to the golf course where Darren had taken his life a couple of years earlier. I stood at the entrance and hesitated until I remembered that people were out looking for me.

My dad had been trying to get me up there ever since Darren died; he liked to take the dog for a walk and to look for golf balls in the dark with his image intensifier. I could never bring myself to go with him. I just wasn’t ready.

It looked just like an ordinary golf course and suddenly the whole thing felt impersonal. I wondered where the spot would have been, the place Darren would have spent his last few moments on Earth. An overbearing tree caught my attention, underneath lay a withered rose and I knew I’d found Darren’s tree.

I walked over to it and a feeling of utter helplessness hit me like a brick wall. My legs went weak and I struggled to stand up. I tried to control my breathing and control my tears as I wanted to scream out. I didn’t want to lean on the tree to steady me, it had already taken my friend and I felt as though I didn’t have much fight left in me.

I wondered what had been on Darren’s mind when he climbed that tree, when he inched closer to the branch he’d use. The pain and despair he must have felt, perhaps he felt nothing at all. Maybe he was numb inside.

Maybe it was a fourteen year old boy’s prank gone heartbreakingly wrong.

‘Nothing could have been that bad,’ I said to myself, “if only he’d have told somebody his problems, it never would have ended like this. If only he could have resisted the temptation to give up hope.”

     I decided it was time to walk home and face the music, my parents could throw anything they wanted at me this time, I no longer cared.

I walked in and saw them through the obscure glass in the living room door. They jumped to their feet and rushed to give me the telling off of my life.

     “Well I can’t fucking wait to hear this one,” said my dad, “you’d better get your backside in there.” He pushed open the door to reveal the chair in the centre of the room again. At least he was confident I was coming home.

     “Just let her talk Jim,” said my mum, who genuinely looked relieved I was home.

I sat on the interrogation chair and my dad fired questions at me.

     “I went for a walk,” I said, “I just needed a bit of space.” I thought back to what Bernie had suggested and decided to try it out.

     “I’m being bullied at school.”

I couldn’t make eye contact with them; my dad would know I was lying. I was almost as good as him when it came to recognizing bullshit but he was still better.

     “Really?” he said, “It’s just I’ve spoken to your school and I asked them if bullying might have been the cause. Guess what they said?”

I shrugged, knowing it probably wouldn’t coincide with my story.

     “Well, after your teacher had stopped laughing Moll, she told me that you’re the biggest bully she’s ever known.”

     “She’s one of the reasons I missed school today,” I said, “she’s awful to me all the time.”

I wasn’t lying either. I remember sneaking into my classroom one
dinner time to play on the grand piano, I had quite an audience until Mrs Howe’s came storming into the room and tore me away from the thing. She even offered to ‘wipe the smirk off my face’ while demanding to know why I’d sneaked in without her permission.

Even my mum agreed that Mrs Howe’s was a miserable old cow. She used to teach my mum when she was at school and never liked her. That’s how old and bitter she was.

     “You know we even rang Bernie to ask if he’d seen you. The poor bloke went out of his way to help us find you. He didn’t have to you know, you don’t deserve to have people like that in your life. You’re toxic to everybody you come into contact with.”

     The interrogation continued late into the night until I angled the conversation towards my dad’s favourite subject – why are we here?

He was obsessed with the universe; he believed in aliens and would talk for hours and hours about his theories, though never coming to a satisfactory conclusion.

I’d learned to use this to my advantage to take the heat off me; it was like throwing a stick for a dog and it worked every time.

Into
the early hours of the morning, he ruminated whilst watching his dirty women dancing around half naked on the television.

     Whilst I was pleased to be getting more space by sharing a room with Beth, she had her silly friends over a lot and it annoyed me.

I went upstairs one day from doing my chores to find one of them sitting on my bed. I had so little privacy anyway that I lost my temper and shouted for her to move or leave.

     “I was just sitting on it,” said one of them, “since when did that become a crime?”

She got up anyway but I was sick of how frequently it was occurring and decided it was time to do something about it.

I went downstairs to the outhouse and looked for my dad’s yellow insulation tape, then I went back upstairs and used the tape to divide the room in half.

     “If anybody crosses over to my side again, they’re going to get a slap.” I said as I sat down on my bed.

     “But the door is on your side.” Beth looked anxious and her friends didn’t know where to look.

     “Yes, it is. You should have thought about that though, rules are rules. Looks like you’re all staying here then.” I laughed.

Beth shouted to my dad and he came charging up the stairs to give me a good telling off and a lecture about bullying.

I was no longer scared of him, I told him I wasn’t interested in his woodland walks anymore and refused to go anywhere with him. I’d lost every bit of respect I ever had for him.

Beth’s friends stopped coming over as much after that incident.

     My mum got a job at the hospital which meant we got to see her a lot more. She seemed a little happier and even taught me how to use the computer she’d bought with her higher wages. I found Encarta to be particularly useful when it came to homework. I’d print out sheets of information and hand it in. My physics teacher gave me an ‘E for effort.’ I always enjoyed the practical lessons; it was the reading from the board that I struggled with. So I just gave up and told myself I’d research it when I was older.

     Bernie continued to pick me up and drop me home after training. Each time I’d come home just that little bit later because he’d park down that same country lane just outside the town. I began to dread home times when he’d climb into the back seat with me.

The country lane drives stopped abruptly when on the last occasion, a police officer walked up to the car and tapped onto the window. I suppose he thought we were a couple and he didn’t even look at me else he’d have seen how young I was. He told Bernie to move on and if he saw his car there again there’d be action taken next time because he had his number plate. It was the martial arts and the family atmosphere I was addicted to. I was also addicted to the attention Bernie showed me which made me feel special; though I didn’t enjoy the physical contact at all.

He promised me that one day I would be running my own classes because he planned to make me an instructor. I didn’t want to mess up my chances so I just went along with whatever it was that he wanted.

     After I’d given up learning at school, I’d sneak off to the music room and find a piano until one of the teachers would kick me off and send me back to my lesson. I hadn’t been diagnosed with having OCD at the time but found music to be the thing that calmed me.

Religious Education was probably my least favourite lesson. I told my teacher that I had a right to refuse it because I didn’t believe in God. The school informed me that they had a legal right to teach me.

I hated that the foundations of every school I’d ever attended, were based upon religion.

My R.E. teacher hated my attendance more than I did because I’d bombard her with questions and provide my own scientific explanations.

I’d never dream of ridiculing somebody for their religious beliefs, everybody has a right to believe in something. I just didn’t appreciate it being pushed upon me.

Some of the children had really taken to it and once when my friend Lindsey checked herself into the medical room because she had ‘Ladies problems’ two girls from the class stood over her and prayed to God, that he ‘take away the evil inside of her.’

I honestly thought I was going to piss my pants as I stood in the doorway with the crowd I’d managed to gather together.

     I’d found a legitimate way to skip lessons. I’d been seeing the school counsellor for a while. His office was in the vicarage on the school grounds. So long as I had that yellow ‘get out of jail free’ slip in my hand, I could leave whenever I wanted with no questions asked.

The counsellor paid particular interest to my case. He asked me a question and I’d answer with a question. We’d talk about my dad and he’d take notes and give me my options which I’d ignore. I told him I didn’t want anything taking further and I just wanted someone to talk to. He promised he wouldn’t tell a soul unless I told him otherwise.

He said I should write my feelings down and sent me away with some blue paper.

     I took that paper home with me and wrote a long letter to Bernie. It was eight double sided pages and it included my thoughts and complaints about my family.

I was going to give it to him on Friday after class and in the meantime, I stored it under my bed between the pages of a book.

Unfortunately my sister Beth had been snooping through my things and came across it. She gave it to my dad.

Because of my carelessness and her snooping, my life would take a dramatic turn for the worst that day.

(
Two Weeks Before My Sixteenth Birthday)

     I should have taken it as a sign but I missed it completely.

I’m going to divulge an incident that I’m incredibly ashamed of, a moment born of selfishness and self-preservation.