by James Eddy
realising that his life had become little more than a grey stroll through a graveyard.
The vicar walked back into the old stone church and Colin took his first steps the other way. The sun was at its highest in the sky and no shadow shapes blackened the ground. The breeze pushed him forward and out of the graveyard, through its impressive wrought iron gate, down some steps and onto the grey pavement.
The sounds of the road signalled the return of the city. The peace and tranquillity Colin had found in the rustling of leaves, replaced by noises of a more powerful nature. Cars pumping out rhythms through closed windows. Providing a base to layer the chaos of traffic, road works and voices onto. People of all races and ages walked along the pavement. It was a truly modern mix. Fat men in England shirts, suited businessmen, and elegant ladies trying to avoid the cracks in the pavement that didn't suit their high heels.
Normally, Colin wouldn't have stopped until he got home. But that day, he felt drained of energy. The heat, along with his black pinstriped polyester suit, was affecting him. He walked to a bus shelter and sat beneath the shade it offered.
The muscles in his legs were a bruised ache. The thin plastic bench giving only limited relief. Only a few metres away were billboards of scantily clad lovelies, airbrushed to empty perfection. Colin didn't even notice. He saw his own lonely face instead, reflected in the glass of a coffee shop window. He saw himself surrounded by couples with fingers or lips engaged. He tried not to look but he was suddenly aware of how long it'd been since he'd known that kind of casual intimacy.
Years had passed with his life only consumed by his mother. It had all been about her needs, her wants, her demands and her opinions. It became second nature to him and, by the end, Colin could predict what she'd say in almost any situation.
There had been a time when that hadn't been true. Before his father's death, Colin had actually had no idea that his mother didn't really like the woman he’d once planned to marry.
Rachel had been a sweet girl but, with the death of his father, Nancy Abbott had rarely missed any opportunity to put her in her place. Casual put downs had eventually turned into lengthy insults. And the worst part was that Colin had let his mother say her ugly unkind words. He didn't want a fight or confrontation and eventually poor Rachel couldn't take it anymore. Colin always despised himself for his weakness but he never spoke to her again.
He stood up, removed his blazer and loosened his tie. Folding and draping the jacket over his right arm, he walked on. Progress was slow. The streets were lined by chip shops, Indian restaurants, kebab houses, and smokers standing outside pubs. A group of teenage boys walked towards Colin. There were seven of them; in their late teens and in baseball caps, baggy t-shirts, jeans and white trainers. All looking as unreal as the strange American accents they spoke in. Colin’s stomach still turned over on itself and fear stepped in his footsteps. Whispering in his ear, he heard his mother's voice telling him to worry about the “Little gangsters.”
The boys passed him without a glance and his nostrils filled with the sweet smell of cigarettes and relief. Shame followed him for another dozen steps. He was a grown man who was afraid of the world. He shook his head and went on.
Something changed. His stride was longer, more assured. St John’s Wood tube station came into view and he knew he was one stop away from the cold-blooded sanity of home.
Colin felt hunger in his belly for the first time that day. He had a plan. It wasn't much but it'd do. He followed his feet past two clothes shops, a chemists, and other shops with shattered windows like spider’s webs. A turn to his right and automatic doors parted allowing him into a supermarket.
There was a chill in the air inside. He put his jacket back on. The shop looked bland. The smell of baked bread was more pleasant although his belly continued to growl in protest. Food wasn't the reason he was there. Instead, his mind was fixed on a film he'd seen years before where a man managed to meet women by looking helpless in the fruit and veg section. He hoped life would imitate art. He was left disappointed.
Apparently, films don't understand the concept of customer service. Worse than that though, Colin probably looked a little bit too helpless. And so, even though the shop was busy, three different members of staff asked him if he needed any help. Good manners veiled his frustration as usual with a polite smile and thanks for their irritating kindness.
He soon gave up on that particular plan. He realised he’d probably been hoping for too much, too soon. Walking along the aisle between two prominent banks of chilled food he saw his mother’s friends, Elsie Andrews and Betty Drinkwater. He went towards them reluctantly. Both glanced at him briefly and let him pass. Their conversation continued and Colin silently wondered if they hadn't recognised him. It made sense to him. He'd always assumed they only saw him as 'Nancy's Son'; as a man who only existed two steps behind her.
Betty looked at him again and said, “Hello Colin! It's nice to see you out and about... Are you well?”
“Yes thank you Mrs Drinkwater,” he answered.
He felt strangely relieved.
He didn't stay to chat. He needed to eat. He picked up a bread roll and went to the deli.
“Hello, how can I help?” the boy behind the counter asked with a grin.
The boy’s clothes were clean but rather scruffy. His navy blue hat had seen better days and his dark hair jutted out underneath at wrong-headed right angles. Colin recognised his face but couldn't work out where from. The thought left his mind and he answered the boy’s question:
“Yes, thanks... I would like a slice of your breaded ham please.”
“Certainly.”
The boy turned away from Colin, revealing a great delicacy in his movements. He followed this with steps that looked like they were being made to music. Colin assumed the lad was moving to the music playing in the shop, but, since he could barely hear it over the chattering and robotic beeps, he wasn't sure how that could be.
“There you are.”
The boy's words cut through his haze of thinking, and he handed Colin his ham.
“Thank you very much...I hope you have a good day,” Colin told him and turned away to walk along the next aisle.
He went to the tills, passing an overweight woman with grey mottled skin and a hideous smell of stale sweat. He took a deep breath and joined a queue. By the time he dared to breathe again the air was clean. Two women and three men stood in front of him and since it was a Saturday afternoon they were all buying lager, alcopops and scratchcards.
Colin stared towards the floor, keeping his thoughts from other people's business. It wasn't much of a view. Luckily, the next thing he heard was the opening guitar riff of 'Whole Lotta Love’, drifting over his head from unseen speakers.
As someone who was too old to be a punk and too young to be a hippy, Led Zeppelin were his band. No sound made him feel more alive than drums like cannons, throbbing bass, and guitars and vocals that were like the cries of broken angels.
He would've preferred 'Night Flight,' but he couldn't really complain. He could always listen to that one at home. That’s exactly what he'd done for years anyway. Every night, after putting his mother to bed he'd sat in the living room. And once he was sure he wouldn't be disturbed, he'd put on his oversized headphones and let 'Night Flight' take him away for a little while.
Colin raised his eyes from the ground, briefly looking to his right to glimpse the long falling waves of an orange sunset; the tendrils of hair glinting gold in the light. He had absolutely no idea who the woman was, but she still filled his eyes until nothing remained but the red of her hair, the white of her skin and the black of her dress. And then she was gone; out of the door. All Colin could do was follow. Fumbling for change, he paid the polite silver-haired shop assistant as quickly as he could.
In the doorway, he glanced in all directions until he saw her hair in the distance. The vibrancy of its colour was deadened a little by natural light just as the heat of the day had been cooled by
the clouds shrouding the sun. A distinct chill was in the air as Colin followed her over the unseductive shine of the streets and into a park.
From a bench, he watched her sit beneath an ancient oak tree and read her book. For the first time, he saw her face in full and she was glorious; a real grown up beauty. That was obvious to him in spite of the vagueness that came from the darkening sky.
It was an ideal opportunity, but Colin couldn't bring himself to go over and talk to her. His mind kept going back to his reflection in the shop window. He saw himself only as a man carrying too much weight on his belly and too many years on his shoulders. A man that lacked anything that made him worthy of a woman like her.
Instead, he watched her in silence. Taking in the movements of her hands, the shifting of her weight to make herself more comfortable and even the look of concentration on her face as she read. Without looking away from the page, she reached up and felt for the raindrops that were starting to fall. Closing the book, she was immediately on her feet holding her umbrella. Colin watched her run back out of the park. He didn't follow her. There didn't seem to be much point.
The rain didn't fall for long but was hard enough to flatten his dark hair onto his head. When it was over, Colin finally gave in to hunger and ate his ham roll. There was something else he
