‘I don't blame her for leaving me, and she's not the reason I'm leaving here,’ I continued.
And what I told him was true, pretty much.
The thought of running into the love of my life with her new man, was definitely something I was keen to avoid. It had only been a couple of months since the last time I'd broken down in tears over the whole episode. But more than that, I'm a junkie. Maybe not a heroin addict, or a meth-head, but most of my money goes on drink and drugs, and smoking of course, which isn't getting any cheaper. Then there's the hangovers as well, I swear they get worse week by week. Seriously, I only feel fully recovered from a weekend by the Thursday, and then there's only one day of normality before I'm handing over more money to the barman, drug dealer or tobacconist.
To say my work had suffered was an understatement. I really couldn't stand being there anymore, and they didn't want me either, so when I handed in my notice it was a happy day for everyone.
Scott pissed into the toilet as I unrolled my money and shoved it deep into my pocket. We left the cubicle and washed our hands, I cooled my face and my balding head with some of the cold water as Scott touched his hair whilst staring into the mirror.
‘And this job, what’s the crack exactly?’ he asked.
‘It’s selling property, or timeshare, or something like that,’ I replied, a little embarrassed at the fact I didn't know exactly what I was going to be doing in Spain. ‘It's not important, anyway. I just need a change of scene. I want a change of scene. It'll do me good, you know?’
He nodded, maybe in thoughtful agreement, maybe because he didn't know what to say. But then he did say something.
‘So you're gonna come back a changed man,’ he stated, hopefully.
I smiled.
I liked the thought of that, coming back a changed man, no longer having to shoulder the weight of being an underachiever, to come back a winner, and proud, and happy, and drug-free.
‘It's like you can read my mind, Scott.’
‘I've just known you too long, mate.’
We high-fived, then for some reason he gave me a hug. Maybe he was sad to see me go, but more likely he was incredibly high and we all get a bit soft when we're steaming.
‘Worst case scenario, you'll be back in three weeks like that muppet out there said,’ he said.
‘Is this a private party?’ asked Dave.
Scott let me go and we turned to see Dave's head stuck through the men's room door.
‘And who you calling a muppet?’ he continued. ‘Come on girls, finish your cuddle, we got a line of Sambuca’s on the bar.’
We had our shots, then more beers, then more shots, and so on. Occasionally we'd visit the men's room for business as usual and we were just having a good time. Good fun, bad jokes and the occasional rejection from below average women.
We were all sat back at the table watching Tommy, who stood at the bar with a couple of heavily made-up teenagers, borderline illegal drinkers, when Dave piped up.
‘Boys, watch,’ he said, before vomiting into his pint glass, then continuing to drink from it, and then stating as a matter of fact, ‘I'm a fucking legend.’
Lee covered his mouth in horror as me and Scott creased up in laughter. Tommy had noticed from the bar and tried his best to look like he didn't know us, which didn't work for long as Scott stood up and joined him and the two girls.
Tommy bowed his head, shamefully, as Scott whispered into the ears of the blondest of the two blondes, who reacted swiftly with a hasty slap across his face. She grabbed her friend by the arm and they both left. Scott laughed and apologised to Tommy, who shrugged it off as standard behaviour and gulped down the rest of his beer.
I wouldn't change them for the world, my friends. It’s me that has got to change.
'I'll enjoy tonight, but from tomorrow I'll be the new me. The new improved, sensible, sober, happy me who achieves things and makes his family and friends proud,’ I thought to myself, before I sneaked off to the toilet, locked the door on the cubicle, sank to my knees and puked.
2 - FAMILY
The four of us were sat around the small, dining table at the back of the living room. My sister, Esther, and her son, Finley, had joined me and my mum, Charlotte, for a roast dinner.
Esther was a good looking woman, a few years older than me, but a little tired looking from the stress of bringing up her boy on her own. Finley was great though, and you could see the bond between them was something special, even if he did test her patience at times.
‘Thanks mum,’ said Esther, ‘that was great,’ as she laid her knife on fork down on her empty plate.
‘It was more of a team effort, to be honest’ mum replied, smiling at me.
‘Then thank you, too, James’ she said, ever so slightly sarcastically, knowing by the clear signs of a hangover written all over me, that I likely played a very small part in the preparation of any food.
‘No problem.’
Finley used his knife to roll around the remains of his dinner, which was all his vegetables, as me and my mum finished what was left on our plates.
‘Finish your food,’ Esther snapped at Finley, bored at having the same situation play out whenever he didn't fancy eating the healthy part of his meals.
My mum stood and stacked her, mine and Esther’s plates then took them out to the kitchen.
‘Hey Jimmy,’ called Finley, ‘look.’
I looked to my side and saw my nephew using a stick of carrot to simulate smoking a cigarette.
‘Eat your bloody food, Finley,’ Esther snapped, ‘or you'll get no dessert. I mean it.’
Esther was stressed more than usual today. Partly due to me leaving, I think, worrying about the trouble I may get into whilst away, without her or my mum being there to bail me out of trouble. But also she was worried about mum, who was really worried about me. There was a giant vacuum of worry circulating and it seemed to be entirely my fault. Which to be honest, it was.
‘This is killing her, you know?’ A statement and question all rolled into one.
I nodded, with a slight shrug of my shoulders to boot. What could I say? I felt like I needed this, and my mum and Esther were meant to be the strong ones, how come I'm the only person who didn't seem to think my trying pastures new is a bad idea? Other than Finley, of course, my darling nephew who thinks the proverbial sun shines from my backside, bless him.
‘Have you decided how long you'll be away yet?’ she asked, ‘I can't be here all the time checking on her, I've got this little brat to look after. This better not be just some extended boy's holiday.’
‘It isn't.’
‘Always drinking, and shoving that shit up your nose.’
‘Mummy, you swore!’ said Finley, giggling away at his mum's loss of control.
‘Quiet, Finley,’ she said, turning her attention to the apple of her eye, ‘take your plate out to your nan.’
‘But I haven't finished my vegetables,’ he answered.
‘Just take your plate to nanny and ask for a bowl of ice-cream.’
Finley slipped down off his chair, picked up his plate, walked around the table, and gave me a wink when Esther wouldn't have been able to see. I love my nephew, cheeky little sod that he is.
‘Listen, Es, I know I got problems. I know it'll upset mum, me not being 'ere. And I know I gotta get off the gear, once and for all,’ I said, truthfully and open-hearted, as is the only way when speaking to someone who knows you better than you know yourself, ‘but to do that, I need a change of scenery. I need to get away from here. Like a fresh start, even if just for a couple of months.’
I think Esther knew deep down that it wasn't a completely bonkers idea, drastic action to cause a drastic change. The craziness of it almost made it seem like a good idea, the more I thought about it, anyway.
‘Just, as long as you sort yourself out, James.’
She reached across the table and placed her hands on mine, a big sister who has seen her little brother make more tha
n his fair share of mistakes, and looked me straight in the eyes, to give me another one of those serious messages that she'd have to convey to me every now and again in my life.
‘Get clean, James. Just, get clean.’
Esther and Finley had left not long after eating, the day was drawing to a close and lately she was enforcing Finley's bedtime as never before, adamant that showing him who's boss would give him a bit of stability, and maybe a bit of direction in life at a later date. It crossed my mind that this was the sort of disciplined upbringing that we lacked as kids, although I didn't say anything to her or mum, of course. Besides, Esther turned out alright, so it would be unfair to put any blame on my mum for my shortfalls.
I had just finished doing the washing up when mum entered the kitchen and put a dirty cup on the sideboard. Why is there always something that appears just as you are drying your hands?
Mum rested her head on my shoulder as I washed up the cup and dried my hands again on the tea-towel.
‘So you've got everything packed, and you know where your passport is?’ She asked, again.
‘Yes, mum, for the third time,’ I said, ‘all packed, passport ready and cash changed up.’
I put the tea-towel to the side and turned to face her; I could see the sadness and worry on her face.
‘I just don't want you stressing out later when things aren't where they’re supposed to be,’ she said, putting her arms around me and pulling me close, ‘and your tablets, did you get to the doctor's for more tablets?’
‘No, mum,’ I replied, ‘I've stopped the tablets. I wanna try and do this on my own.’
I love my mum, although if you knew half the shit that I'd put her through these last few years, you'd be forgiven for thinking otherwise. She's always been there for me, wasted the last of her savings on unsuccessfully putting me through rehab, had me crying on her shoulder through bouts of depression, and was even the one who found me when I overdosed. I must be draining the life out of her; nobody deserves a break like my old dear.
Going away wasn't just for me.
‘It's not too late to change your mind and stay,’ she said, ‘You don't have to go through with this.’
‘Mum, I've quit my job, given up the flat and sold my car. It's a bit late to be getting cold feet, don't you think?’
‘I'm just worried about you being all the way out there by yourself.’
‘I know you are. But I don't want you to worry about me, I want you to start looking after yourself, do some things that you wanna do, for you, you know?’
I stepped back from mum's embrace and held her gently by the arms, looking into her eyes, and seeing the pain and torture in her soul.
‘I won't be gone forever, and when I'm back, I'll be back for good.’
I let go and slowly made my way to the door towards the hallway and stairs.
‘I'm gonna go and pack a few last bits then hit the sack,’ I said, and then turned to see her standing over the sink, wiping a tear from her cheek.
I rested my head against the doorframe and breathed out a gentle sigh. Nobody likes to see their mother suffer the way that she was clearly suffering, but I was the cause of the suffering, and knew that some time away from this sorry excuse for a life that I had built for myself would be a good thing for me, and ultimately a good thing for her, to see me come through it and shine like the younger me that made her proud and gave her the happiness that I see in her eyes when she is playing with Finley.
‘I'll wake you up before I leave in the morning, mum.’
I left her standing at the sink, no doubt about to examine the washing up I just did, not knowing that I knew she always checked the job I'd done, and Esther's too when she'd done it. Sometimes she'd redo a few bits. Did she really think we couldn't take being told our washing up wasn't up to scratch? I think maybe she thought we'd think she was a bit obsessive compulsive if she admitted it. She really was a little fragile; I'm glad that Esther and Finley would be here when I'm gone, because otherwise this personal project of mine wouldn't have been an option.
‘Get Clean’ by Jams N. Roses is available now on Amazon.
‘Finding Her Feet’ by Jams N. Roses: A contemporary tragedy.
Sample Chapters
1
The three sisters played by the lake, a short walk from the back gate at the bottom of the garden. It was cold, the middle of winter, and the girls were wrapped up as warm as they could be.
Michelle Spencer, the eldest of the three girls at ten years old, had been instructed by their mother to get the nuisance children out of the house so she could have some peace and quiet whilst preparing dinner.
The girls had grown bored of playing with their dolls and teddy bears so amused themselves by throwing sticks onto the frozen lake, seeing who could throw them the greater distance from the shore. A small collection of twigs and small sticks had gathered on the water’s ice blanket, though they were becoming more difficult to see as the sky darkened; only a trace of the winter sun remained.
The twins, Amanda and Samantha Spencer, aged seven, couldn’t throw as far Michelle. It began to agitate Sam, especially as Michelle would mock them and giggle at how feeble they both were.
Amanda found it funny when her big sister teased and laughed at her and her sister, but Sam didn’t look up to Michelle like Amanda did. Sam was a big character in a small frame, and had even screamed at Michelle that she was supposed to be the big sister, that things had muddled up inside their mummy’s tummy, and that Michelle should have been Amanda’s twin.
One joke too many at Sam’s expense had pushed her over the limit. She shoved her older sister as hard as she could, who fell backwards and landed on the hardened grassy patch by the side of the lake. Michelle laughed at her sister’s anger. She was used to seeing it and knew that retaliating wound only wind her up further, so resisted.
However, her laughter stopped when she noticed a small cut on her hand, probably from landing too heavily on a sharp flint that sat beside her. She picked herself up before telling the twins to follow her home.
Amanda still laughed, but unlike Michelle, she didn’t know when best to leave Samantha alone, to let her settle and calm down. Not wanting the fun to stop, Amanda grabbed Sam’s teddy bear from her coat pocket and threw it onto the ice.
‘Stupid,’ shouted Sam.
The twins watched the teddy bear slip along the ice before stopping a few meters from the edge of the shore, and then looked to Michelle for advice on what to do next. But she was halfway to the back gate by then and hadn’t noticed the latest drama to unfold.
‘You better go get it, Amanda.’
‘I’m not getting it. It’s your bear.’
Samantha knew that Amanda was as stubborn as Sam was feisty, and realized straight away that she’d have to get her teddy bear back herself. She took one more look to see if Michelle had seen there was a problem and decided to come back and help, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Careful not to slip over, Samantha took tiny steps onto the ice towards her favourite cuddly toy. She was grateful that the white ice wasn’t as slippery as she’d first presumed, and found herself approaching the bear with ease and confidence.
Amanda looked on as Sam bent down and picked up the teddy bear, then turned and gave a smug grin to the her younger twin sister.
‘Got it,’ she said, as she stuffed the toy back into her pocket.
‘Oi, you two, come on,’ called Michelle from the gate that led through the garden and up to the house.
Michelle saw that the girls hadn’t even started the walk back to the house, but worse than that, she saw that one of her baby sisters had ventured out onto the ice. She started walking back towards the lake.
‘Come on, Sam, it’s getting cold,’ said Amanda.
But Samantha didn’t budge.
‘I can’t move,’ she said, ‘the ice is breaking.’
Sam had heard a crack from beneath her feet, and whenever she tried to slide a foot forward an
d closer to the shore, another crack in the ice would appear.
‘Come on, Sam, just come on,’ pleaded Amanda. ‘Just do it, quickly, come on.’
Sam realized that staying put wasn’t going to help, but she was beginning to panic, and couldn’t bring herself to move her legs. She could clearly see the cracks appearing from under her shoes and spreading along the white surface.
Amanda saw Michelle approaching and urged her sister to hurry. Then she turned back to Sam, and for a brief moment their eyes locked.
CRUNCH
The youngest of the three sisters saw a tear run down the rosy red cheeks of her beloved twin, as a large crack split open beneath Sam’s right foot, before a final crunching of the ice below her feet was followed by a small splash, and Sam was gone.
Amanda stood frozen to the spot as Michelle ran screaming towards the lake. The eldest sister shook the youngest out of her trance and ordered her to go and get their mummy.
‘Go!’ screamed Michelle, ‘go!’
Amanda sprinted as fast as she could up the gentle incline towards the family home, as Michelle tried to get out on the ice to the hole that had appeared just a few moments ago, the hole that she had just seen had swallowed one of her little sisters whole.
CRUNCH
Michelle, bigger than her sister, couldn’t make it close to the hole without breaking more ice beneath her feet. She couldn’t move forward, but through the tears streaming down her face, she could see that Samantha hadn’t yet come back.
CRUNCH
She was forced back, and luckily made a leap towards the shore before a large chunk of ice broke apart beneath her and landing her with the same fate as her little sister.
Claire, the girls’ mother came running down from the garden, screaming at Michelle.
‘Where is she?’ Where is she?’
Claire slowly edged her way onto the ice a couple of feet along the shore, but again, the ice was too weak to hold any substantial weight.
Amanda stayed at the back gate, looking down towards the lake where her mother and Michelle jumped up and down where they stood, frantically screamed at the water, as if by making enough noise, Sam would miraculously rise up from the ice cold water, that smug smile that she loved to give so much plastered across her face.
Son of a Serial Killer Page 15
