by A. D. Koboah
“Let’s look at it another way. If, say, it was your mum that had been there instead of you that day. Would you be holding her responsible and punishing her the way you’ve been punishing yourself?”
I shook my head.
“Of course not. If it had been someone else then I could forgive them, but it wasn’t someone else. It was me. I did it.”
“You made a mistake, Peace. A mistake. You left him in that car because you thought he would be safe. You weren’t to know that somebody else would put him in danger. And what is there to be gained in punishing yourself like this? Please, Peace. Find a way to let it go. You don’t deserve to suffer like this.”
I didn’t have the energy to keep explaining to her over and over again that it was my fault, that I had failed my son in the worst way possible and didn’t deserve to be forgiven. So I stayed quiet and a heavy silence hung in the air for a long while until she broke it.
“I can’t believe I got everything so wrong. I thought you were vex with Mohamed and were using Dante to punish him. I can’t believe I got it all so twisted.”
“Are you gonna tell him?”
“No. I think he needs to know but I won’t tell him unless you want me to.”
“Tell him please. That way I never have to see him again.”
“God, I’m so sorry, Peace. I never should’ve gone behind your back like that. I should have seen from the way you freaked out that there was a reason why you didn’t want to talk about Dante.”
“Please don’t. I would’ve done exactly what you did if it was the other way round. Actually that’s a lie. I probably would’ve given you a few slaps across the head for being so damn stubborn.”
We chuckled at my attempt at bringing some humour into the room, but there was no life to the sound of our laughter and it died away quickly, leaving us sitting in silence.
“It sounds silly but when Mohamed turned up, I thought that the two of you might get back together and that it would make you stop using,” she said after a while.
I smiled sadly.
“Me and Mohamed ended a long time ago. It took me a long time to realise it, but I’m better off with him out of my life.”
“I’m glad you don’t have feelings for him anymore. He’s horrible. I helped them because I thought it was the right thing to do and I thought he cared. I think Jason genuinely cares, but Mohamed was only thinking about himself. He’s arrogant and so selfish. I can see now that he’s not good enough for you, I don’t think he ever was.”
Her kind words lifted my spirits, but the mention of Jason’s name brought with it a twinge of regret and the memory of the way he had looked at me when he found out what I was.
“Have you got any credit on your phone?” Eva asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“I need to call work and tell them I can’t come in today.”
“Because of me?”
“Well, I can’t leave you here by yourself after what happened.”
“You should just go. I won’t be going anywhere. I still feel really messed up. All I’m gonna do is sleep.”
“No, it’s all right. I’m not in the mood for work to be honest,” she said casually, but I knew she was lying as tonight was overtime and that the extra money was sorely needed.
I could also see the machinery of her thoughts churning away beneath her nonchalant demeanour and knew she was thinking that if she left me alone, I would immediately look to find myself some brown.
Her naivety almost made me laugh out loud. Her intentions, as had always been the case from day one, were good intentions, but she had no real understanding of the nature of my addiction—the nature of any addiction, and the lengths and depth it could lower a person to. She had no real inkling of what I was capable of once gripped in the throes of a craving or how cunning I could be. And if the need became strong enough, there was no way she would be able to stop me from getting what I needed.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said with a slight smile. “That’s not why I’m telling you to go to work.”
She didn’t answer, but looked away and busied herself with extracting my phone from my bag.
“I’ll tell you what, take out my purse. I’ve got around eighty pounds in there. That’s all the money I’ve got. Hold onto my phone as well so I won’t be able to call anyone. I know you’re broke, Eva, and need that overtime money, so go. There’s not much I can get up to without my phone and money.”
She sighed and looked at me as if she were trying to read my mind. I put on my most convincing innocent expression, one I had gotten used to feigning over the past few years.
“Okay,” she said, taking the money and the phone. “Don’t worry, Peace. I won’t do a disappearing act with your money. I promise you’ll get it all back.”
“I trust you, Eva,” I said and I did trust her.
I on the other hand could never be trusted as long as I was possessed by this powerful drug, and for every moment I stayed in its lethal grip, I could never be faithful to anyone else.
“Don’t look so worried, Eva. I’ll be here when you get back from work.”
I feigned sleep whilst she got herself ready for work, and as I lay there, I could already feel stomach cramps. She left shortly afterwards with my money and mobile phone safely stashed in her bag.
I waited for a few minutes to be sure that she was gone before I got up and retrieved my bag and the two carrier bags of clothes and essentials she had brought from my house.
I took the time to write a short note for her to find and left the bed-sit. It was six o’clock in the evening and I had one more stop to make before heading for home. Beads of perspiration appeared on my brow during the short journey and the cramps in my stomach were a lot more intense by the time I reached the house and rang the doorbell. I hoped that she was at home. My prayer was answered when the door swung open and Barbara appeared before me.
“Yes?” she asked pleasantly.
“Barbara.”
She looked confused and her eyes narrowed as she looked at me properly. Then her expression changed to one of complete shock when she realised who I was.
She was now trying to hide her astonishment but wasn’t doing a particularly good job of it. I could only imagine how dishevelled I must have looked in her eyes. My bones were protruding painfully beneath the soft fabric of my grey jogging suit and sweatshirt, my face was gaunt, my eyes sunken into their sockets and I had an ashy hue to my lacklustre complexion.
“Hi, Barbara. I know you don’t want me here,” I said, remembering the way I had behaved the last time I had been in her house. “But I need to ask you something.”
“What, Peace? What’s happened?” she asked, still staring at me with anxiety in her eyes and I realised I shouldn’t have come here when I looked this bad.
“No, everything’s fine,” I said quickly, trying to ignore the pain in my stomach. “I just wondered if you’ve still got the stuff I gave you after—”
“You mean Dante’s things?”
“Yeah, can I have some pictures a-and the little blue and white teddy bear he used to take everywhere?”
She stared at me for a few moments, obviously wondering why I had turned up asking for these things after all this time.
“Wait here,” she said curtly and closed the door. She was gone for quite a while and I was starting to wonder whether or not I should ring the doorbell again when the door opened and she reappeared carrying a small cardboard box. I noticed her eye make-up had been smudged and that her eyes were red.
“Here.” She handed me the box, avoiding making eye contact as she did so. “I’ve just finished making dinner. Come in and have something to eat.”
This was a big step for her. Our relationship had never been a good one and I had done some awful things to her over the past few years.
“Thanks, Barbara, but I need to go and—”
“Fine. Well...take care of yourself.”
“I will. Bye, Barbara,”
I said and walked away from the door with my precious parcel.
I looked back briefly when I was a good distance from the house to see her still at the door, turning in time to see her put her hand up sorrowfully to her head before she went back into the house and closed the door behind her.
I arrived home and checked the kitchen, seeing that I had enough food to last me for a few days. I had only one more thing to do.
I went into the bedroom, put the box down on the bed and removed my jacket. The lighter and spoon lay scattered on the floor where I had left them before I lost consciousness. I picked them up along with the empty heroin wrapper and put all three things into the bin. Then I hunted around for the needles that were hidden in the drawer and placed those in the bin before I took the whole thing outside to the communal dustbins.
I returned to the flat and locked the door behind me. The note I left for Eva had clearly stated that I needed to be left alone for a few days and that I would contact her when I was ready. But I engaged the latch anyway as she still had a key to the flat and I needed to do this alone.
When I returned to the bedroom, I sat down on the bed in front of the cardboard box and stared at it for about five minutes. Then I gingerly reached into it and pulled out his blue and white teddy bear.
I held the ragged little thing to my face and inhaled. It felt soft against my skin and I could almost imagine that it was the touch of Dante’s hand I could feel against my face.
I pulled out a photograph, one of Dante that was taken at the hospital when he was only a day old. I reached out to touch the photograph, wishing I could caress the tight, black curls that looked like a halo around that beautiful face. The second photograph of him that I took out of the box was one that was taken a few months before he died. He was clutching his teddy bear and looking up at the camera with a wide smile. The shadows in this photograph made him appear a few years older, the camera having caught him with an unusual knowing smile and I could see snatches of the little boy, the teenager and then finally the man he could have grown up to become.
I didn’t try and suppress the pain tearing into me or the tears that started to fall on the photographs scattered on the bed. Those tears were like rain falling on a dry, parched landscape after a long, hard drought.
Chapter 21
Never had I known or imagined loneliness so absolute, and never had my life borne such a profound, all-encompassing despair as in the weeks and months after Dante’s death.
Almost overnight my life became a bleak, barren landscape that stretched on for miles around. Nothing grew or thrived in this wilderness and all I saw whenever I looked out across it was emptiness.
I walked alone along a narrow, rocky road with a heavy load, a load too heavy for one person. A load I carried on shoulders that had already grown weak by the grinding relentlessness of an unfeeling world.
During this period I took whatever prescription medication was prescribed to me unquestioningly, needing the heavy veil to provide a hazy view of the world. And I woke up every morning and spent the long hours waiting for the day to end so I could climb back into bed, into the seductive arms of sleep which sometimes brought me dreams of Dante’s beautiful face. Sometimes he was happy when I dreamt of him and I saw him holding his blue and white teddy bear. At other times I saw him alone and lost, crying out for me and I was thankful when I woke up, even though it meant picking up my load and resuming my walk down that long empty road.
After two weeks, Barbara began forcing me to come with her every time she left the house. I trailed reluctantly behind her on those days, always aware of the pitying eyes that seemed to follow me wherever we went. Some people were brave enough to approach us, some people I knew, others were strangers, all offering their condolences. Others kept their distance, perhaps knowing nothing that could be said to ease the pain. But I still felt their gazes on me.
On one of those outings, whilst waiting outside the chemist for Barbara, I had seen a woman who had given birth to a little girl around the same time I gave birth to Dante. She was a small woman who was dwarfed by the pram that she was using like a weapon to block my path.
“All right, Peace, how are ya?”
I remember how envious I had been of the way she struggled with the pram and how her florid complexion had been flushed with the exertion.
“Hi, I’m okay,” I had answered.
I was staring at her baby who sat with a dummy stuck firmly in her mouth, gazing up at me with a bored expression on her pretty little face.
“Where’s Dante today?” she had asked, apparently unaware of what had happened.
I had opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Luckily she had carried on talking, not seeming to notice my moment of voicelessness. “It’s been ages since I saw you two. He must be such a handsome devil now.”
I hesitated again before answering.
“Yes, yes he is. Melissa is so beautiful,” I said referring to her little girl, whom I had been unable to take my eyes off.
“Thanks, love. I don’t like to admit it, but she’s the spitting image of Mick… Speak of the devil,” she said looking across the road. “I can see him over there waiting for me—impatient sod. I’d better get going. You give Dante a big kiss for me.”
I managed a weak smile instead of a reply. She swept past me with her pram, taking the beautiful little girl away with her as she weaved in and out of the crowd.
The next time I saw her it was obvious someone had told her what had happened to Dante. I had been waiting at the traffic lights with Barbara and looked up to see her on the other side of the road. She was standing stock still in the middle of the crowd even though she was obviously in everyone else’s way. She was staring at me and it was obvious that she had been for some time. Her face had flamed with anguish when my gaze met hers and also empathy that empty words couldn’t express. Then she had quickly turned her pram in the other direction and fled as if the devil was at her heels.
I had watched her go and been strangely comforted by the look of anguish on her face. It had made me feel as if there was maybe one person who understood, or could perhaps imagine, the sheer pain of the nightmare I had to live through.
***
My appetite continued to wane as the weeks wore on. Food, which had always provided me with so much comfort and been a ready diversion from my problems, gave me no joy. And although my doctor wrote out a new prescription for pills to increase my appetite, the weight continued to melt away like snow on a summer’s day.
A month after Dante’s funeral, I made the decision to return to my flat. The decision had been met with vociferous opposition, mainly from Barbara who didn’t try and sugar-coat her belief that being alone at a time like this was ludicrous.
I had stayed silent throughout the tirade that followed my announcement, knowing that no matter how much she shouted at me, I was still leaving.
I no longer wanted to see my mother’s sombre face, the lines that life had written across it seeming to get deeper with each day that passed without her grandson. I hated walking into the living room to see her sat with a picture of his beautiful face, her sobs echoing in my mind long after I silently left the room. Even the painting of Jesus on the living room wall seemed to have soaked up the grief that had descended on the house. The benign smile that had looked over us for so many years had changed into an empty, painted smile that was devoid of hope or any kind of comfort.
I could no longer stand to see the anger that Barbara harboured which peered out of her eyes and was permanently in her tightened jaw. I no longer wanted to see this anger working determinedly, gnawing away at her, leaving her more and more subdued as the days passed.
So I stood my ground and was relieved to leave the weeping, sullen house and instead went back to an empty flat that had a silence so loud it kept me awake at night until my doctor wrote out a prescription for sleeping pills.
I will never forget the first time I walked into my flat after Dante’s death, how
unnatural it was for me to hear only one set of footsteps in the hallway and how quiet it was. I had no cumbersome pram to accompany me in the small dirty lift or to lean against the wall in the corridor. It had always been such a hindrance for me to have to push that heavy thing everywhere I went. But now, whenever I left the flat, it felt as if I was missing something, like I had stepped out of the house with no shoes. In short, I felt naked without it.
Thankfully, Barbara had already been to the flat and taken away most of Dante’s things. She had taken away the cot in my bedroom along with everything else and taken it all to a charity shop. Only five or six boxes of his things remained now and she had stacked them neatly in the second bedroom. She had also re-arranged the furniture in the room to try and fill the void that had been left by the removal of his things. But the room now seemed bare without his belongings and it seemed too large for only me.
I left the flat a few days later, the first time I had been out by myself since the accident.
It was a pleasant evening and I squinted up at the sun which still shone brightly although the sky had already started to turn into deeper shades of blues and indigos as the sun prepared to disappear for the night and hand over the sky to a remote, watchful moon. I stepped gingerly out onto the balcony, walked slowly to the lifts and finally out of the high-rise block of flats to a grassy area by the main road.
It was a Friday so the streets were busier than usual. I looked around me, a little bit taken aback by how ordinary everything else around me was. I saw a couple walking towards me hand-in-hand. She had playfully snatched a chocolate bar he was holding and ran off, laughing hysterically as he gave chase. I had to take a step back to avoid colliding into them as they came running past me. I heard “sorry!” thrown back in my direction. A moment later it was followed by a female voice yelping in surprise and pleasure, and then her high-pitched uncontrollable laughter and I assumed he had caught her. I heard a dog barking and then a little boy ran out from behind me and raced towards the main road. He stopped at the pavement when he heard his mother cry out for him. I caught up to him sitting on the low wall where the grassy area ended and smiled at him before I turned onto the main road where I froze in my tracks.
