My Side of the Story

by Will Davis

  In the end we catch the train back. Jon pretends to plead with us about wanting to drive us but the second I pretend to think about it he changes his mind. Thankfully Buddy isn't around when we leave, which is a major relief 'cos the next morning I'm sore from even thinking about It, not to mention sore from The Thing itself. At the station I give home a call and get Dad (luckily), who tells us he'll pick us up at Victoria. He's very curt on the phone and hangs up right away, which should have been a clue as to what was coming really. After that we have to say goodbye and it's totally awkward. If you can believe it me and Al both end up shaking Jon's hand.

  There's major delays so it's not till evening that we actually get into Victoria. The train's really crowded, too, so we end up crushed in our seats opposite these total losers who're about the same age as us, and who spend half the time boasting who can spunk the furthest. It's like, how unnecessary?

  When we arrive we go through the gates to find Dad and Al's parents waiting for us on the other side and looking thoroughly unhappy at having been in each other's company for so long. When she sees Al Mrs Rutland lets out this tribal scream that has half the station turning to look, and rushes to clasp her daughter to her bosom. Mr Rutland joins in, and they basically crush her to death while me and Dad make this sort of lurching gesture at each other.

  When they've finally exhausted themselves the Rutlands turn to look at us. Mr Rutland takes a step forward and goes to me, You've got some explaining to do, boy! in this way that makes it quite clear he holds me totally responsible. Mrs Rutland gives me evils that are out of this world and adds, You ought to be ashamed of yourself! When I think about what could have happened . . .

  Then, to my surprise, Dad's like, Hey, you can't put this all on Jaz. You should know it takes two to tango.

  When we've all finished cringing from his metaphor Mr and Mrs Rutland stare at him like they can't believe what he's just said. I can't believe it either. It's like, where did the spine come from? Then Mr Rutland makes this like, growling sound. He takes a step forward and pokes Dad in the chest with his finger. He's like, Are you trying to tell me our daughter would have done something like this of her own accord? It's your boy who made it happen! Him!

  Dad's like, I hold Alice equally responsible.

  Mr Rutland explodes. He's like, Are you calling us bad parents?! You're the bad parents! You're the one with the gay son, not us!

  He pushes Dad and at this point Dad kind of loses it a bit too and pushes him back. Then Mr Rutland pushes him again and Dad goes stumbling backwards and almost falls. He stands up and glares at Mr Rutland. People all around have stopped to watch and it's like at any second they're gonna start shouting Fight fight fight. Mrs Rutland puts her hands on her mouth in this, like, total parody of horror. It's pretty obvious these people aren't used to these levels of excitement and aren't able to deal with them in like, a mature way.

  Just as it looks like Dad and Mr Rutland are going to launch at each other gladiator-style, Al saves the day. She shouts out, It was my idea to run away!

  There's total silence and then Mr and Mrs Rutland turn to her. Al nods. It's true, she goes.

  I give her a What-The-Huh? look, and she gives me a look back as if to say, It's OK. I send her this mental thank-you, even though I kind of feel like maybe I actually should admit it was me because now she'll probably be punished for it. But then the Rutlands throw themselves at their daughter in this like, orgy of forgiveness, and start going on about how brave she is etc. It's like, some people really ought to just make their minds up.

  In the car on the way home I'm like, You were pretty cool back there, to Dad, since it kind of seems like he deserves some sort of recognition or encouragement or something. But he just concentrates super hard on the road like I haven't said anything. Then he suddenly goes, You've got some serious explaining to do when we get home, like maybe I thought it was gonna be a simple case of just walking in and asking what's for dinner. But I'm OK with it. I'm like, I know.

  You would have thought, what with the fact that we could have died and stuff, that Mum would be waiting with her arms wide open ready to like, hug me for hours and tell me all about how she didn't care about anything that we've done so long as I'm all right. Well that doesn't happen. It's like, so the opposite. She's like a Venus fly-trap - she doesn't say anything as I walk into the kitchen where she's standing at the counter. Her face is totally unreadable. I go to give her a hug, and then, the second I'm within grabbing distance, she goes off like a hydrogen bomb. WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING AS IF YOU HADN'T DONE ENOUGH ALREADY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT ISN'T IT YOU WANT ME TO BE DEAD WELL I WISH YOU'D NEVER COME BACK I WISH YOU'D HAD THE GUTS TO STAY AWAY AND I HOPE YOU FOUND OUT WHAT LIFE'S REALLY LIKE WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE SOMEONE PAYING YOUR WAY YOU SELFISH LITTLE ETC (totally depressing to listen to). At one point I manage to wrench myself free of her grip and she chases me around the room for a bit, but I'm much too fast for her and I put the table and Dad between us pronto. Dad meanwhile just stands there in the centre of the kitchen like this island of ineptness. It's like, explaining to do? As per usual me talking is the last thing anyone's interested in.

  After about an hour (I kid you not) of sonic ear-busting, Mum's batteries finally start to run low. It's like she just runs out of steam mid-sentence. She kind of flops down at the table and sits there in this slumped position like the energy's been sucked out of her. Dad looks at her and I wait for him to say something to comfort her, but he doesn't, he just rolls his eyeballs around all over the place like one of those lizards that can move them in different directions.

  What I'm thinking is, It's probably about time I gave them a proper apology. I mean, for real. I keep thinking about them arguing in the kitchen and how Mum looked when she saw me afterwards and the sight of Dad smoking on the back step all on his lonesome. It's not like I don't feel justified in any of the things I've done - I mean, life hasn't been easy for me of late and after the whole thing with Fabian I just felt like I had to get out of there. But I don't want Mum and Dad to be unhappy, and if all it takes is a simple apology and the I-love-you treatment, like I did that time with the E, then what the hell. They can have it.

  So I go, I'm really sorry, all sincere and puppy-dog mode and then steel myself for the grossness of it. I'm like, I love you. That's why I came back.

  There's this long silence. You're probably thinking there've been quite a number of terminal silences so far. There's more coming up, too, but this one happens to be the silence to end all silences. It suddenly feels like the world has just gone stark dead or something. It's like, the age of awkwardress. I feel my cheeks going all hot and red as I start to wonder why Mum and Dad aren't answering me and saying I love you back or something.

  Finally there's this long hissing sound and it's Mum sighing the sigh that defines all other sighs. Then she stands up and even though she's trying to hide it I can see tears in her eyes. But they aren't tears because she's moved or anything by the whole puppy-dog thing. It's more like she's crying 'cos she doesn't believe me.

  Then she slowly walks out of the room. I'm left with Dad. I would have thought he might go after her to comfort her or something, but he just stands there like a moron with a face like he's auditioning for an advert for Uncomfortable. I think that maybe I should tell him about Fabian, but somehow it feels like it would be wrong to use that as an excuse so I don't say anything, I just hang my head like I'm ashamed. I guess 'cos I am.

  Then he goes, Happy now? and it's just about as bitter as Dad's able to get. He walks past me and I hear him going into the living-room. A minute later the sound of a football match playing comes from the TV.

  I stand there on my own feeling totally low. Then I see that my bag is on the floor next to me still packed and everything, and all of a sudden I've got this urge to just leg it out of there. I could try a totally new city that isn't London or Brighton and see what happens there, I think. I could go to Manchester, or Scotla
nd. But I don't. I tell myself that I've learned my so-called lesson. So instead I pick it up and go on up to my room.

  On the stairs I run into The Nun, who's sitting on the top step and is all red in the face. If I didn't know she was incapable of feeling human emotions I'd say she'd been crying.

  I'm like, Hi again.

  She just looks at me. Even though I'm sure she's probably just gearing herself up to go all Regan on me, I feel this, like, tiny flicker of sympathy for her, because after all I did kick down her tree. To be honest I think I'd like it if she did go just a little bit Regan, 'cos at least it would be normal, and so far everything's been totally weird since getting back.

  I'm like, Look I'm sorry, OK?

  She looks at me for a second and it's like the Devil is debating whether or not to take control. But then, if you can believe it, it's like Teresa wins over. Instead of frothing at the mouth or something she just lets out this long sigh that's like an identical version of the one Mum did downstairs. Then she just turns away and goes into her room and closes the door. Not even a quick lecture on the power of prayer. And I know something must be seriously wrong here 'cos I'm actually missing Regan.

  Upstairs I find Bilbo sleeping outside my door. He stretches out when I reach him and purrs a bit. It's nice to know someone's glad to see me, but depressing too, since Bilbo's only a cat.

  The next day no one wakes me up to go to school, I guess because I'm supposed to be recovering or something, but it's weird because Mum and Dad both go to work and The Nun's at the convent so me and Grandma are the only ones at home. It's like no one even missed me.

  I want to see Grandma but she's still asleep when I get up, so I go back up to my room and do some reps and then try and do a token hour of revision, but I can't concentrate so I send Al a text saying HOW R THNGS WTH PARNTS? I get one back pretty much straight away saying THERE ALL OVER ME LKE I NRLY DIED. U CAN FEEL THE TLC 4 MLES. CAN DO ANYTHNG NOW & THY WN'T MIND. Then we have this whole textothon and she tells me her parents are still determined that she's going with them to Leeds and she's like, resigned herself to it. Apparently they, like promised her the biggest room in the house they're buying and that they'd get her a bicycle, and then made her like, sign a contract or something saying she would give it a go. She's still kind of depressed about it though, so to take her mind off it we try and hatch a few schemes, like this one where Al's gonna come out as a lesbian to them just to freak them out (even though she isn't one. Yet).

  I pay Grandma a visit a bit later on. She's sat up in bed doing some knitting, but when she sees me she gives me this massive smile and puts down her needles right away.

  I'm like, Hi Grandma, just got back earlier on today, since Mum told me she told her that I've been staying at a friend's because she didn't want to her to be worried or anything.

  So . . . you decided to come back then, did you? Grandma goes.

  She says it in this totally crafty tone. Turns out she knows all about it, because she found my note before Mum did, only she put it back and pretended not to have seen it. I'm like, properly impressed, but Grandma's all like, whatever, like she's always been the coolest woman alive or something and she can't believe it's taken me this long to realise it. Then she reaches down under the duvet and produces this envelope like a conjurer, which she holds it out to me. Inside there's this letter and a brochure. The brochure's got all these pictures of this white Victorian mansion with a massive garden, with lots of geries dotted around and grinning these ultra-big grins at the camera like they've just got laid or something. The letter starts off 'Dear applicant, a warm welcome to Whitehart Homes in Kent . . .'

  I'm like, What is this?

  Grandma's like, It's my new home. I'm moving out.

  Turns out she's been waiting in the queue for this like, luxury nursing-home for nearly a year now. She hasn't said anything 'cos she didn't expect to get in for at least another year, but someone dropped out (or more likely died or something), and so now she's got a place. She beams at me. It's totally weird, 'cos it's like she's just got into university or something, only instead it's a nursing-home.

  I'm like, Oh. Congratulations.

  Grandma nods and folds the letter up carefully like it's this majorly important document, and puts it away again under the duvet.

  I'm like, Do you really want to go then? Is Mum giving you such a hard time?

  Grandma looks at me. It's pretty sad really, because even though I was annoyed when she first got here 'cos I had to give up my room, I kind of really like having her around. Not that she's been much of anything except a presence lately, but still. It's nice to know she's there.

  Grandma's like, Unfortunately your Mum and I aren't much good for each other. But that's not the only reason. I want to be around other people my own age. I don't know anyone here. There's nothing for me to do except sleep.

  She smiles a bit sadly, and picks up her knitting again.

  Soon I'll be with your Grandpa again. But until then I just want a bit of comfort. I think at my age I deserve it, don't you?

  I like, nod, but it's a pretty depressing way of looking at it. I mean, is that all old people do? Like, wait around until they can be with their other halves? What do you do if you don't have another half to wait for? You might just as well donate yourself to some clinic or something.

  Grandma knits for a bit, and then goes, You know, you're not so different to your Mum as you'd like to think.

  I'm like, Yeah, I guess we're both human beings, since that's the only similarity I can see.

  She's like, When she was your age she ran away too.

  I'm like, What the Huh?

  She chortles for a second and goes, Well, I'm surprised that didn't come out.

  And then she tells me all about how Mum was once this very troubled kid who refused to do what she was told and was always demanding stuff and losing her temper and stepping out with boys, and how poor old Grandma and Grandpa didn't know what to do with her. Eventually she ran off, but they set the police on her, which in those days you could apparently do with bloodhounds or something, and they brought her back and put her in this like, hospital, if you can believe it. Like, a mental hospital. It's pretty full on, and Grandma sits there in bed doing her knitting and telling me it like she's just talking about a nice holiday or something. It does kind of make sense though, since it goes some way towards explaining how Mum got to be so crazy. But after she's finished I'm like, Are you for real? since it's just possible Grandma's had another turn and is making it all up from la-la land.

  Grandma's like, You know sometimes I have absolutely no idea what you're saying. Now, what I want to know is what you've been doing with yourself over the last three days.

  For a minute I consider actually telling her, since the rest of the whole world practically seems to know about it and she does seem to suddenly have got a lot smarter than I've ever given her credit for. But then I decide not to. I don't want to be responsible for another stroke. In the end I just tell her about how Mum and Dad don't seem very happy to see me again and how I've like, disappointed them for the rest of their lives or something. She tells me to just give it time, which is pretty funny because that's what I told her to do once too.

  I spend the rest of the day reeling from the revelations. No wonder Mum doesn't get on with Grandma, even though it was a long time ago and all. But it's kind of fucked up. It doesn't make me all sympathetic towards Mum or anything, just confused, 'cos you'd think what with all that in the past she'd have been a bit more understanding with me over the last couple of months, instead of spewing acid every time I breathed. It's got to make you wonder. Like, when you think about how she is now, I mean. Once upon a time she was all sleeping around and running away, and it's like, What the hell happened? I kind of want to ask her about it but in the end I don't. When she gets home she doesn't say anything to me, just tells me what's for dinner and then goes upstairs for a lie-down. It's like she really doesn't care any more. Up until now I would always
have been, Fine with me, but it kind of hurts a bit, this whole silent-treatment deal. I want to show her and Dad that I'm not the total spawn of Satan they've decided I am. But I just don't know how.

  21

  School the next morning is a total drag, but thankfully no one seems to know about the whole running-away thing, or at least they don't mention it. Right away I notice that Fuck Face is back and is hanging out in his usual spot at the back of class with the Tweedles. He seems quieter than usual though, like maybe he's even sorry about everything that happened, I think. He doesn't try to say anything to me. Plus he has got a scar from where Fabian cut him, which I hope stays with him for the rest of his life. He does kind of give me this weird look at one point, as we're leaving class, and Tweedle Dum whispers something his ear. But he can't do anything, even if he wants to, I think, since he's being watched closely after the whole bullying affair.

  Nothing gets said about Fabian. I see Mary at break and ask her about it. She tells me that it got talked about in assembly on Monday, and Fatty made this big speech, which doesn't surprise me since he never misses an opportunity to go on about how much he empathises with us all for the tragedy of being like, teenagers. Apparently he was all on about how the system has failed yet another poor student and how we must all accept responsibility for it etc. He then asked for Fabian's friends to come forward and say something nice about him, but since Fabian didn't have any friends there was just this long awkward pause, which I reckon is pretty funny. But no one's talking about it or anything though, and so it's kind of like when something's suddenly gone but you're the only one who notices. And even I don't notice that much, 'cos it wasn't like we shared any classes or anything. But I do notice a bit. Just because of what I know.