He took in a deep breath to try and regain control of himself.
‘The problem is,’ he continued, once he calmed down a bit, ‘Alisha made it very clear that if she ever found out who gave him that first hit of heroin, she’d kill ’em.’ He smiled wryly and looked up at Phillipo. ‘She’d kill me was what she was saying, but she didn’t know that. And I kept it secret, for all this fucking time, re, I’ve kept it in my fucking heart and I’ve carried it everywhere I go. Every time I go to sleep, I wake up and it’s still there. That’s why I do so many bad things now. Booze, drugs, gambling; it neuters the fucking guilt. And this is all without even mentioning Yiayia.
‘I killed her too…’ He cut off, just as a fresh stream of tears fell out of his eyes. As he wiped them, Phillipo stared at him with sympathetic, sorrowful eyes. John now considered how it must’ve cut Phillipo up to see his cousin like this, the boy he used to play cops and robbers with, who he used to make homemade catapults with to fire at the apples in the tree in Yiayia’s garden. John stared into his eyes. He could see the sympathy, could sense that he was truly listening and understanding what he was saying. He appreciated it. Appreciated someone actually listening to him. He had no one to talk to. No one, gamota. Most of his friends had deserted him when the going got tough, so they couldn’t be relied upon for anything.
‘Communication is the best form of pain relief,’ Phillipo told him as he put a caring hand on his shoulder.
John bit his bottom lip and looked up at the Panayia. ‘You know, I think you might be dead right there, re.’ He chuckled to himself as he spoke. ‘I-I do actually feel relieved to finally get it off my chest. Honestly…’ He looked back at Phillipo and shrugged. ‘But, it’s too late. She knows now and she’s gone and so is my moro.’
Phillipo leaned towards him and stared at him with wide, sincere eyes. ‘Listen, re. Are you out of this stuff now? I mean for good? The drugs, the gangsters, all that rubbish?’
John closed his eyes and nodded. ‘Yes.’
Phillipo pointed at the air ahead of him like an angry father. ‘Are you sure? Don’t lie to me!’
‘Absolutely, Phillipo,’ John replied in a stern voice. ‘It’s finished. I cannot do this skata any more. It’s killed me. But, it’s too late…’
‘No, it’s not!’ Phillipo said resolutely. ‘You have to talk to her. Let her know once and for all that it’s all over, and that you love her and your child, and they’re all you want in life.’
John shook his head. ‘She won’t listen…’
‘You have to make her listen! And you have to make her believe. What happened to her brother wasn’t your fault. Okay? And most importantly, you don’t mess up again. No more! Finished!’
John wiped his eyes and looked up at his cousin. His halo was glowing strongly now as if it were making a comeback.
‘But what am I gonna do for money, re? I can’t support ’em ’cos I can’t get a job…’
Phillipo leaned back in his seat and began nodding his head in a positive fashion. ‘Well, I might be able to help you there,’ he replied. ‘I know this papa who needs help. An assistant if you like.’
John felt his face screw up in confusion. ‘Assistant to a priest? You want me to be an assistant to a priest?’
Phillipo raised both eyebrows and began nodding again. ‘Yes I do.’
‘And what exactly does an assistant to a priest do?’ John enquired.
‘He helps him prepare for services, helps with paperwork, answering telephones, helps around the church, that kind of thing. This papa is getting on now and could do with the help.’
‘And who is this priest?’
Phillipo turned to face him. ‘Me,’ he replied, his face neutral.
John laughed to himself. ‘You? You serious?’
‘Of course,’ Phillipo replied adamantly.
‘But, can you…do that?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Phillipo.
‘Well, do you really need help? You’re not that old. I mean will they let you just create a job like that?’
‘Well, you see, Yiannaki, I’ve got this funny feeling that when I wake up tomorrow morning my back will suddenly start hurting and my legs will feel tired… So, yes they will.’
John smiled and took a quick glance around. ‘You…sly old dog, Phillipo…’
Phillipo shrugged before glancing up at the Panayia and crossing himself.
John stared at the front of the church as he mulled it over. ‘I’m gonna… work in a church?’ he said.
‘Yes. It’s a job, Yiannaki. The money’s decent too, I’ll make sure of that. So, if I were you, I’d take it.’
John reflected further. The last job he was offered was as a drug baron, now within a day, he was being offered a job in a church.
Bit of a contrast there, re.
So what was the choice here now—go home to an empty caravan, skint and eventually be back on the streets, dealing or begging Aziz for the delivery job back. Or work. A proper job, getting a regular wage in an environment that couldn’t possibly get him into any more skata. Could it?
For once in his life, he had a choice, and the alternative was actually a pretty good one.
He nodded his head positively. ‘Yeah, I’ll give it a shot, re. When do I start?’
‘You start from now, Yiannaki. So, you have to promise me and promise God that you’ll be working hard every day otherwise, we suffer. You, me, Alisha, your kid. We’re all finished.’
John knew exactly what Phillipo was getting at. He had to clean up his act. Now. And that started with asking for forgiveness for the armaties of the last week, for his soul to be cleansed.
The future started here and now.
‘I want Holy Communion,’ John then said.
Phillipo clapped his hands on his knees and stood. He held out his hand and helped John to his feet. ‘Then follow me,’ he said. Phillipo led him out of the church floor and into the back room where he had the blessed wine and bread ready and waiting. On the way, John felt the eyes all around him on him again, but suddenly they didn’t feel like they were judging him, scrutinising him. No. Suddenly, they’d mellowed. Like they’d been appeased. They were still watching him though, and they’d always keep their eye on him. He was in the bad books and had to work hard to get out of them.
He nodded. He’d prove to them that he was straight up from here on out.
He promised.
*****
After leaving St. Barnabas, John pulled off Wood Green High Street, turning down a side road. He parked up outside a 99 p shop, and then dived into the thin alleyway sandwiched between it and a café. He didn’t wanna be exposed on any main streets like some kind of game bird. Dread I’s crew knocked around the way; Marek’s the same. And astinomia were always around when you didn’t want ’em to be. So it was best to lay low.
Right then, he wanted to make a phone call. To Alisha. He had to speak to her, let her hear his side of the story. As Phillipo said, he had to make her listen, make her believe.
He threw his cigarro butt to the ground and took his mobile out from his pocket. He pulled up Alisha’s number and added the ‘withhold’ code to it. He didn’t want his name to appear on her phone ’cos she’ll most likely ignore his call. He just had to speak to her.
He took in a deep breath before he pushed dial. As the tone began ringing, a swarm of butterflies shot through his stomach. He was all nerves. He wanted so badly to speak to her, but at the same time didn’t want to fuck up. He nervously checked out the street from inside the alleyway while he waited. A few people were walking past on both sides of the road. He watched ’em all, paranoid of every one of ’em. They could be enemies. Friends of Dread I; Marek’s boys.
He turned his back on them, listening to the monotonous dial tone. Come on, Alisha. Please…
He thought the inevitability of voicemail was bound to arrive, but to his relief, she answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Leesh? It’s me…’ he replied in a flat
tone. ‘Listen—don’t hang up! Please. Just-just hear me out. Please…’ He waited a second, his eyes darting from side-to-side, expecting to hear the click as she ended the call and the monotone beep to play out. But it never came. He smiled wryly. It looked like she was prepared to give him a stay of execution.
He sighed. ‘Where do I start? I… Look, I just wanna explain what happened with Yousif. I… I… Christ I’ve been carrying it around inside me for so long, it’s destroyed me… I… I wish I could go back to that night I first sold him that shit and put him straight about it. Christ, punch some sense into him to not get involved. If I could do one thing in this world, it would be to go back to that night and flush that gear I had on me straight down the fucking toilets. I swear to God…’
He shook his head as he spoke. ‘But, you know, if I wasn’t dealing, I wouldn’t have met him and then I wouldn’t have met you…
‘That’s how fucked up life is, Leesh. Good comes from bad and bad comes from good. We’re just playthings for God. He sits up there testing our morals, our souls…’ He went quiet for a second and he wondered if she were still there ’cos she hadn’t said a word. The line was still live, which was a good sign. But he could also sense her, sense her on the other end of the line and he was almost sure he could smell the salt of her silent tears.
‘I told him you know, Leesh. I said ‘just chase it, don’t shoot it.’ I told him so many times, honestly. I swear… You remember when you were helping me off it? Remember I was telling you how it was a good thing I wasn’t shooting? How much worse we’d be if I was? Well, that’s why it got so bad with Yousif. He was bang on it. He was…Christ, he was beyond help, there was nothing anyone could’ve done, believe me. Nothing. He… he became lost. Yeah, I got him into it, but if I hadn’t, how long would it have been before some other piece of shit did the same? That’s the life God gave me—a fucking peddler of false dreams…
‘And I hate being that. Hate it!’
He groaned, and took in a deep breath before he continued. ‘That night he… the night he died, I… I was well off it by then, you remember? I wanted nothing to do with it. Nothing. But he was desperate. He came round all…messed up. Begging me to get him a hit. Begging me, Leesh, you understand? Begging!’
He huffed, and then continued. ‘I kept saying ‘no,’ but he just wouldn’t fucking listen. He wouldn’t have it! I was out the game by then, so I didn’t have anything on me, and told him just to go home. But still, he was having none of it. Wouldn’t leave. So in the end, I had to call up some nasty people to get what he wanted, it was the only way. Well, turned out those pieces of shit, they sold him dodgy gear. They don’t care as long as they get their fucking money. And it…’
He sighed, just as his eyes began watering up.
‘… It killed him.’
He wiped the tears from his eyes, and groaned again just as a lump formed in his throat.
‘I’ve been carrying that guilt ever since that night, Leesh, and it’s killed me. His death, my gran’s death, both my fucking fault. Me! The drugs and the booze and the gambling, it’s all to block out the guilt. To make it go away. If I’d just spoken about it all, I could’ve avoided all the shit I’ve brought you since. The debt, the caravan shite, I could’ve avoided it all. But, I couldn’t tell you, couldn’t put you through it all, couldn’t watch you suffer like that, have you thinking that about me. About me as a… murderer. I fucked up and I know it and I’ve tried so hard to make it better, believe me, but this shit in my heart is too much, it always gets the better of me…
‘Always.’
He took in a deep, juddering breath.
‘But, it’s all out now. And it feels…good. You know? It feels really good to be getting this shit off my chest.
‘And the other day when I came in all fucked up. I know I hurt you, and yeah, I was out of it, whacked out my fucking mind on coke. But it was a one off, the first time in ages. I saw…Jesus, what scum there is in this world, Leesh, I swear to God! Would you believe me if I told you I saw this thirteen year old kid shoot his sister? Yeah, believe me. Watched him with my own eyes tear his own sister apart with bullets just to get in with a gang. I couldn’t get her face out of my mind. The blood, the screams… The drugs blanked it out. Wiped it temporarily from my mind. But what use is that? Once the drugs wear off, the images come back, sometimes stronger. Nah, I’ve finally learnt that the best remedy is communication. Like what I’m doing now…’
He scratched his forehead and closed his eyes.
‘Listen—you were perfectly right to leave me after that. After all the promises I made, after all the lies I’ve told, you’re perfectly right to stay the fuck away from me. I totally understand. But it’s all over now… yeah, yeah, I know you’ve heard that shit before, but it’s true. And you know what? Now the reality has set in that I’ve lost my family, the only thing I had in this fucked up world, I more than realise that I can’t carry on like this. No way. No way. This is no life for anyone. No one. I’m a good man. With a good heart, not like these other pieces of shit running around the place. You know, you wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen the past week—I’ve seen people selling drugs to save their families. Others killing for personal gain. I’ve seen that the good people in life get killer diseases, while the pieces of shit get to run around the streets causing havoc for whoever’s left. These two eyes of mine have seen it in all its glory.’
He sighed again, and tapped his fist on the wall next to him in a rueful manner.
‘But, no more, Leesh. Not for me. It’s all in the past. Whether you believe me or not, I know what’s in my heart. And I know what I want for the future. And I’m gonna do it, I swear to God I am…’
He straightened his back, and took in another deep breath.
‘My cousin, Phillipo—I don’t know if you remember him—he’s got me a job,’ he said in a more upbeat voice. ‘Working in his church. As his assistant.’
A stifled laugh abruptly sounded on the other end of the line.
John smiled broadly ’cos right then it sounded so sweet. So, so sweet, gamota. ‘I know, I know,’ he said, now bizarrely embarrassed. ‘Me working in a church. Crazy innit? But, it’s a job,’ he said in a more serious tone. ‘It’ll mean a proper legit income for the first time in… God knows how long. And I’m gonna put everything I’ve got into it, and I’m gonna save up every penny I earn, for… you know, our kid. I’m not gonna fuck up any more. And I’m gonna repent. I’ve got plenty of time left to do that…’
He sighed.
‘Listen—I… You’re living with Ishmael right now, aren’t you? Listen, I don’t mind. I… I want you to stay there with him. He’ll protect you. Shit, he’ll look after you better than I ever could… I mean, I don’t want you living in that caravan anyway, it’s no place for a pregnant woman to be. And I wanna give you some space. Some time away from me and my shit. I’m gonna put all my effort into this job, make sure it works, make sure I save my money. Change my life. Heh, I know you’ve heard that shit from me before on more than one occasion, but back then I said it blindly, hoping that things would just change, not realising that it was down to me and no one else. This time I really mean it. I can’t fuck up again. I’ve already lost my family and if I mess this up, I’ll lose the only job I’ll probably ever have and piss off Phillipo to boot, and I don’t want that either.
‘Besides, I don’t think God will be too happy with me.
‘Listen, I want you to have your space. I want you to be away from me for a while and for Ishmael to provide for you. Okay?’
He scratched the back of his head again and faced the wall.
‘I was wondering as well… when I get paid, I was wondering if you might wanna, you know, meet up one lunchtime or something for a Chinese or something just for a chat. Not now! Maybe in a few weeks, months, once I sort myself out and you’re totally comfortable. If you wanna see me again that is. I don’t blame you if you don’t….But, if you do, then you know, maybe one lunch
time or something? Chinese—Kung Po chicken, crispy duck, prawn crackers. MSG. Lots and lots of MSG… that kind of thing.
‘You…up for that?’
There was more prolonged silence as John waited with baited breath for an answer. It felt strange, it was like he was asking her out for the first time all over again, except he was about a million times more nervous this time even though now she was his wife. Bizarre. Across the street, a couple causally walked past, holding hands. Young lovers. Just like they were once upon a time. He closed his eyes and prayed, butterflies twitching in his stomach.
Then after what seemed like an eternity, an answer came. ‘We’ll see…’
John half smiled. It wasn’t exactly the answer he was looking for but it was a lot more positive than a straight up ‘no.’ It was a half positive, which with a lot of hard work could be wrenched into a full positive.
‘Yeah?’ he asked. ‘Good. Good. I’ll let you decide. Okay? I’ll-I’ll call you when I get paid. Let you know how my new job is going and all that. Hopefully, it’ll work out fine. Hopefully…’ He paused for a second. Then—
‘Leesh… I… I love you.’
There was more silence.
‘I have to go,’ she then said, and John understood immediately. It was way too early in this patching up job to be saying things like that. He began cussing himself for making such a bad move.
‘Yeah-yeah, I understand. No-no problem. I’ll call you. Okay?’ he stammered.
‘Okay,’ she replied. ‘Bye.’ She then hung up.
The Survival Game Page 33
