‘Indy, I was thinking, maybe you should move in with me?’
His response was not ideal. Halting her with a silencing, misogynistic palm of the hand. As he again returned his gaze to the end of the street. Understandably insulted. Eva with her claws out prepared a retaliation only to hesitate at the sight of Indy’s anxious face. ‘Seriously, what is it?’ she whispered. Indy looked towards the end of the lane, seeing no one, all the while hearing a female voice once again.
‘Can you hear that?’ Indy worried. Eva remained silent, trying to hear for herself. Unable to do so, she took the lead, pulling him towards their destination. He was crazy, she reminded herself. A lovable crazy. Hard-work, but worth it. Indy, in turn, began to relax by way of osmosis. She could often make his reactionary-self feel somewhat silly. Moving on, he instead conversed with her about the food offered in the bar. Her studies in physiotherapy. Subtlety dodging the question she was keen to get some confidence from. She saw through his effort. Deciding maybe tonight was not the night.
Ahead of them, they noticed a couple. Arrive on the road on the opposite pavement, heading in the opposite direction. The couple seemed irked by one another, though their lips were muted and their fingers interlocked with each other.
Indy feeling guilty for dismissing Eva’s query, prepped himself to acknowledge the topic on her mind. About to re-announce it, he paused only to hear an argument quickly brew behind him. A harsh slapping sound of a hard hand on soft skin, followed by raised voices caused him to turn.
The woman stood frozen and fearful against a brick-wall. The man in her space, his finger pointed aggressively towards her eyes. Eva was about to note her concern, but Indy had already left her. He felt his mind lose all dominion over his body. His legs systematically walking towards the quarrelling couple.
‘Hey, hey, excuse me’ he called to them. The conflicted couple paused, and the man looked at Indy with a disparaged face. The woman behind him however, looked to Indy with a frown that implied confusion.
‘Step away from her please.’ Indy said with a calm timbre, assessing the troubled woman. ‘Are you okay miss?’ he asked. Watching as her face transitioned to one of annoyance, almost vexation. Her right cheek now as red as her slapped left. And to Indy’s dumbfoundedness, her fury appeared to be directed entirely at him.
‘Who on Earth do you think you are? Leave us alone you freak.’ She yelled to Indy, watching him take a step back regretful.
‘I’m sorry I thought-.’
‘You thought you would step in and interrupt us? Two full-grown adults? Do you know who he is? Who are you to interrupt our conversation?’ she bellowed, watching Indy retreat further.
‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’ Indy replied.
About to initiate a second apology. Indy turned to the man whose fist was already making its ascent toward Indy’s head. The brutal, blunt contact of the hit led Indy’s subconscious to ponder whether the man was armed. A pair of brass-knuckles to be sure. The rest of his consciousness immediately shut down, broken by the vicious blow to the head.
Now blinded by the pain, he felt his legs give way from under him. His unchecked body collided hard with the cold, hard tar of the road. His eyes opened with his vision divided into multiple frames. He could see Eva sprinting towards them, her scream following her stride. Indy raised his arm in the hope of slowing her, but he felt a boot stomp down on his back and then his shoulder. As if the attacker’s objective was to staple Indy’s body to the road surface. Indy felt the physical force of the violence, but not the pain. His brain was still too dizzy and unfocused to receive those signals.
Turning onto his back to breathe and face his attacker. He visually confirmed the brass knuckles, as they again rocketed down toward his jaw. Unable to move his limbs and defend himself, he watched as the fist quickly eclipsed the night sky.
‘Fuc-’ he murmured to himself.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘You absolute muppet.’ Frank announced from somewhere above. His voice in rhythm with the repetitive beeping of an EKG machine. Indy could hear but not see. Any attempt to open his eyes was countered by a harsh bright light from the ceiling above. He could feel hospital linens, a disposable tissue paper sheet beneath him. It ruffled with every twitch he made. His head was aching, throbbing in pain as if a gorilla had held and squeezed it like it was a piece of ripe fruit. He felt nauseous and broken, and Frank’s dismissive words and demeanour were not of any aid.
‘Frank, could you please stop being Frank for a moment.’ Eva requested. Her voice slightly further than his.
‘Why does he have to play hero?’ Frank pondered frustrated.
‘He thought someone was in trouble, what do you expect?’
‘I expect him to stay well clear. With my face, people don’t need an excuse to leave him like that.’ Frank warned.
‘Seriously Frank, even now. Always making out that you are infamous in this mystical underworld. It’s getting more tragic and hard to believe by the day.’ Eva protested, tired of the delusions of grandeur.
‘Jesus, Eva...’ Frank moaned to himself, looking out the window. His hands on his hips, frustrated by what he believed to be nothing short of naivety. ‘You live in a vanilla-flavoured world.’ He turned to her, making sure she found his pensive gaze. Eva ignored it and leapt from her seat to Indy’s side as he twitched and awakened.
‘We’re here Indy, me and the doughnut.’ She said.
‘Hey, what’s going on?’ Indy asked.
‘The doctor just wants to observe you for a few hours then we’ll head back to yours.’ She said, easing his myth’d face.
‘Okay, nice to see you guys getting along.’ Indy mocked, resting his head back down.
‘Oh yes, me and Vanilla Ice.’ She jabbed. Frank sucked his cheeks in against his teeth. Throwing his attention toward an attractive nurse who moved through the nearby corridor.
‘Huh?’ Indy asked confused.
‘It doesn’t matter, what matters is that we get you checked up and checked out’ Frank explained. ‘Hospitals are grim venues, full of contagious viruses.’
‘Fair enough, speaking of which, how is Que Pasa?’ Indy asked, joining Eva in the digs.
‘Wow, what a great evening this has been with you two. A couple who jabs together stays together I see’ Frank replied. ‘I’ll speak to the nurse about when you can exit.’
‘Why are you in such a hurry? The police will want a statement.’ Eva reminded him. Indy knew his brother didn’t need reminding of the fact. He knew it to be Frank’s immediate concern, his principal motivation for them hurrying their departure.
‘I’m not pressing charges’ Indy announced.
‘Smart move. I’ll find that nurse.’ Frank replied, making his exit. Eva turned to Indy perplexed.
‘What- why?! That guy used a weapon on you, Indy. You should tell the police before he ends up doing it again to someone else.’
‘They won’t find him E.’ Indy foresaw, turning and sitting up on the bed. ‘I’m lucky really. Nothing happened to you. I was stupid. I walked into that cheap-shot blind and put you at risk. What if that was some creep on his own, with you isolated. My common sense took more of a beating than my head tonight.’ He explained. Eva looked on bewildered.
‘God, you’re as bad as your brother.’
‘Oh, now that’s just mean.’ Indy replied, lightly dabbing the back of his head to find a bruise. ‘I’ll be fine, a few ibuprofen, some Netflix and chill. I’ll be okay.’ He prescribed, looking for his shoes. Eva shook her head as she watched him. She defined it as embarrassment, a man who had taken a beating in front of a woman he liked. His bruised ego would need time to mend. She kissed his cheek and picked up her purse.
‘I’ll make sure Frank doesn’t cock up the forms.’ She concluded and left.
Indy took a moment and sat back down on the bed. Contrasting to what she may have thought. He was actually hoping she perceived him to be a cliché, humiliated boy. It was the perfect lie to
disguise the real reason for not pressing charges. The same reason behind Frank’s hesitation.
If the police knew, the city would know. If the city knew, John would find out. Of course, he missed his elder brother every day, but the thought of John returning to Kingsland. Especially out of concern or fear for his younger brothers, filled him with dread. John didn’t belong in Kingsland.
Indy jumped slightly as Grace rushed in. Flying through the doorframe, her face clear of makeup with a worried look. Her attire casual, with Indy reckoning them to be her alone-at-night pyjamas. She sprinted to Indy, giving a hug that caught him off guard.
‘Indy, are you okay?’
‘Grace? Er, yeah, I’m okay, are you okay?’
‘Eva called me. She explained what happened. I just wanted to be here.’
‘Okay, well, thanks, it means a lot.’ he said genuinely appreciative, albeit mildly befuddled.
‘Have you spoken to the police yet?’ She enquired. Leaving Indy to realise the purpose of her visit.
‘I’m not pressing charges. I just want to get home, play the wounded soldier and all that.’ He explained. Knowing his response would relieve her of any worry around someone’s potential re-appearance.
‘Okay, makes sense. Well, I want you and Eva to come round mine for dinner this weekend. You can bring the look-a-like if you want, just make sure you tie his leash to something sturdy.’
‘Sure.’ He replied with a tired smile, still out of balance from his beaten head and her turbulent entrance.
Grace left Indy and headed towards the waiting area where she saw her sister distressed. Two police officers marched away, unhurried and disinterested.
‘I thought Indy didn’t want to make a statement.’ Grace reminded.
‘They didn’t want to take a statement. I don’t understand this? They took one look at Frank, one look at Indy’s paperwork and said they needed to leave on an urgent call. Do they look urgent to you? As casual as you like.’
‘It’s okay. Frank probably explained that Indy didn’t want to involve them.’ Grace replied, knowing full well the apathy the law had for the boys. ‘Whose Frank speaking with?’ She asked.
Removing a soda from the vending machine, Frank held the phone between his ear and shoulder.
‘I understand your concern Red. But like I said, until the place brings an increase in revenue, there isn’t a dollar return to your piece. You’re an informal, silent partner. This isn’t Goldman Sachs.’
‘Are you sure? This is looking very Goldman fucking Sachs, Frank.’ Red’s high-pitch voice moaned down the line. ‘I’m struggling to accept the idea of there being zero green. When Heracles’s boys are working in there every night.’ He muttered.
Frank praised Red’s awareness, considering in this case he was dead on the money. Business was booming. In truth, the zero profit was a polite euphemism for the zero concern Frank had for Big Red’s interests. He needed Red’s capital to get the keys to Que Pasa. He needed Que Pasa for Heracles’s business and supplementary protection. And with that protection and no formal paperwork, in his mind, he owed Red zero now, and zero down for a very long time.
‘Heracles’s boys are there to get the punters in Red. Levy was operating the place at a loss for a long time. I never said this was going to be easy. You’re going to have to be patient. I’ll call you when it picks up.’
‘Alright Frank, but don’t mug me off. The rulebook was written long before you popped up.’
‘Of course, Red, speak soon mate.’ Frank signed off, ‘rulebook, what a chief’ he scoffed, placing his phone back in his jacket pocket, waving to the girls.
✽
Still shy of the impending rush of the busy morning commuters. Kingsland city train station was derelict. Vast in size with a dozen platforms. A few service workers roamed around the facility, awaiting the first train into the city.
The 5.23 from London entered the station with nine carriages and an obese, half-asleep driver. Its carriages shuddered against one another as it pulled up along the platform. At a full stop, the doors opened with only a handful of passengers exiting.
One of the travellers arriving on the platform took a contemplative pause. A man, dressed almost as if he had crossed a dystopic blizzard, looked around the station. His ample physique covered up in a large, long parka coat with a thin dark cotton scarf wrapped around his neck and lower jaw. With facial features reminiscent of both Indy and Frank. John Vinyar, in his early thirties, looked to the ticket gates ahead of him with tired eyes. He strode towards them all-the-while keeping the lower half of his face masked behind his scarf. He moved through the stark station at a brisk pace. His eyes becoming more and more vigilant of the few people around him. One of the caretakers emptying a bin took a moment to review the covered-up traveller. John stared back for a moment before reaching the main doors.
A delivery driver slammed his lorry’s doors shut, creating a gunshot sound which echoed through the station. John halted and turned to face the source of the sound. The quick turn caused the scarf to fall and his face to uncover for a brief second. His lips were narrower and fuller than his younger siblings. His face was one of readiness rather than worry. With no issue or threat in sight, he lifted the scarf back up and turned back to the exit. Leaving the main exterior foyer of the station, he looked upward to a CCTV camera. Suspecting its slow rotating movement as it pursued him.
✽
In a small beige-painted office. Indy sat somewhat formally, lost in thought, on a cheap brown faux leather sofa. His forearms parallel to his thighs, a mild resilience in his posture. Nearby, sitting behind her desk, a woman in her mid-thirties sat opposite him with a notepad open and an impatient look on her face. Straight blonde hair with minimal makeup. She wore a neutral coloured blouse with a smart, dark brown skirt that went an inch over her knee. Indy had never actually discovered her first name, knowing her merely as Dr Wilton. A therapist he saw at his elder brother’s behest a few years back. She was kind, smart and persistent in helping Indy address the mental struggles he fought day-to-day. But she also knew as much as he did that with John absent, he was less inclined to follow the decree and visit her. Choosing to do so out of a strange friendship they now shared. The two of them secretly enjoyed their passive-aggressive, sometimes silent exchanges.
‘Are we going to do this every time Indy?’ She asked. Indy slipped out of his minor trance and turned to her.
‘Do what?’ he asked.
‘You keep slipping out of the discussion. If you don’t want to talk about your feelings, you could at the very least disclose whatever those distracting thoughts are.’ She requested. Indy moved a resting arm away from his thigh and onto the sofa, tapping the leather with his fingers.
‘I do get distracted don’t I.’ He mocked. ‘Maybe I have ADHD.’
She saw through the diversion.
‘You don’t have ADHD. You know your diagnosis and that slip in attention is just a symptom of your general disregard for me.’
‘I have a high regard for you actually.’ he insisted.
‘Stop flirting, answer my question.’
‘Which was?’
‘Are you still waking in the night?’ She asked with a determined, reiterative tone.
‘Yes.’ he replied quick and calm.
‘Bad dreams?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what about him?’
‘Him who?’
‘The shadow you see.’ She replied, turning to her notes, ‘The dark figure?’
It had been a month since their last visit and Indy had only been plagued a few times by the shadowy form. Still, he was curious how she would evaluate a more amplified answer.
‘Everywhere I go.’ he said, again with a level of immediacy.
‘But you’re not going to tell me who or what the dark figure is?’
‘I don’t know who he is. I was expecting you to tell me what he represented. Get real deep with it.’ he countered, slipping into a semi-discou
rteous trance once more. She let out an unforgiving sigh, standing up to refill a water glass. Indy saw her exasperation and felt a slight culpability. She arrived back to her seat and tapped the keys of her laptop, implying a mirroring level of disinterest.
‘How are you doing from a social aspect? Do you still get anxious in crowds?’ She asked.
‘No. I’m enjoying the city’s nightlife, meeting new people.’ He lied.
‘I can tell.’ She replied, a quick nod to the rather bold bruising across his face. ‘Can I ask you how you acquired that? Were you at your cynical best?’ She said, referring to Indy’s perception and past discrepancies with city-dwellers. Rather than answer her question, he asked one of his own, a rarity in their sessions.
‘When I was in a coffee house a while ago, I saw these two youths steal a seat from a pregnant woman, zero consideration or concern for her. And the rest of the coffee house, including me, did nothing. Why do you think that is?’ he asked. She took a moment to answer, realising the rarity of a collaborative enquiry.
‘Social exchange theory suggests that we analyse the costs and benefits in our relationships with others. All in all, these factors precede the belief that the benefits of expressing oneself outweigh any costs.’
‘Totally.’ He replied, raising his eyebrows at her psych-lingo. She accepted the fault in her words and brought it down a level.
‘People do bad things, act in self-interest when the reward to risk ratio is in their favour. When consequences seem scarce, people feel untouchable.’ she declared. Indy nodded in response, irked by the truth in her statement. A silence grew and grew as Indy watched the wall and Wilton studied her patient.
‘My family once thought they were untouchable.’ Indy announced, ‘then a shadow appeared in the rain. And beat my dad to death as I was dragged away.’ he revealed, causing Wilton to lean back, lost for words at a potential breakthrough. ‘No one’s free of consequence doctor.’ He continued. Wilton nodded gently before looking down to her notepad. Indy had divulged more in a minute than he had the six months prior. She kept face, opting to produce a look of sympathy and understanding. Before she could get a supportive sentence out, Indy looked up at the clock. ‘Looks like my time is up.’
Persona Non Grata Page 4
