The Story Collection: Volume One

by Matt Shaw

  SMILE

  1.

  Music blasted from the computer, across the room on my small office table - my favourite band; Muse. I find their music helps me zone out from the sounds and general disturbances of the family home - helps me concentrate on my writing - especially when my brother, Lewis, is kicking off.

  Lewis kicking off - a frequent occurrence in this house. Normally over the silliest of things too. I never remember mum and dad being as soft on me as they are on him.

  I guess it is true - the second child does have it easier.

  I can’t hear exactly what he is shouting about this time, I just get snippets of the tantrum between tracks when the computer goes quiet. I’m not even sure if mum or dad are trying to calm him down, or telling him off... or even in the same room as him! If they’re talking to him they’re either so quiet I can’t hear them or his screaming is drowning them out. If that were me, I would have had a smack by now. Looking back at all of the tantrums I used to have, not that there were loads of them, I find myself cringing. I wonder, in years to come, whether Lewis will remember how he behaved and feel the shame I sometimes feel too.

  Track change again, he’s still screaming.

  “Shut up!” I shouted.

  Typical, now I’ve heard his wailing, my ears have honed in onto him and I can hear him over Muse. I lashed back, against the wall where I’m leaning, and banged on the wall. If he didn’t hear me shouting for him to shut up - he might hear the banging - what with his room being directly next to mine. I hope he heard it; the thump hurt my hand a little. My bedroom door gently pushed open. I half expected Lewis to come in and give me a mouthful but it was mum.

  “What’s his problem this time?” I asked her.

  Mum looked tired. Lewis often had a habit of wearing her down. She had to get up, most days, before six in the morning to make sure Lewis was ready for school. She’d drop him off before heading into the office, where she worked, for an eight hour day. By the time she got home, having collected Lewis from the ‘After School Club’ and made dinner... I guess she has plenty of reason to look tired. I feel sorry for her. Maybe I’ll drive him to school, and collect him, when I’ve passed my driving test in a couple of months.

  Good reason for mum and dad to buy me a car, I reckon.

  A conversation for another time.

  “He wants to go to the shop,” she sighed. She sat down on the end of the bed. “What’s this song? I like it?” she asked referring to the music blasting from my computer.

  I leaned across to a small control, next to where I laid on the bed, and turned it down.

  “You look tired,” I said.

  Mum just smiled at me.

  “Dad not here?”

  “He’s gone out,” she said, “something at the office he needed to get finalized for a meeting next week. I don’t suppose you want to take him to the shop, do you?” she continued.

  “Lewis?”

  “Just be nice to have a bit of peace and quiet whilst I get on with some house-work,” she said.

  “Why don’t you just smack him? Let him cry his tantrum off...”

  “You know why...”

  Last year mum and dad took Lewis to the doctors when they couldn’t get a handle on his mood swings. They just thought he was difficult until a friend of the family pointed out he may have suffered from ADHD.... attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or something like that. From there on in.... it seems as though it gave him a green card to be a little shit. Mum and dad wouldn’t possibly dream of smacking him - after all, the moods aren’t his fault.... not really... just a chemical imbalance or some crap like that.

  Maybe he needs a new course of medication.

  Or a better therapist.

  “It would really help me out,” mum said. “You said you needed to get some new trainers for college...”

  “I haven’t been paid yet,” not that I was expecting much pay from the part-time summer job I had, working in the local video store.

  “I’ll buy them for you...”

  She must be desperate.

  “You’ll buy them?”

  I can’t remember the last time she bought me something - other than my birthday or at Christmas.

  “I need to get some new school shoes for Lewis too,” she said. “If you take him to the mall to find some shoes and get some for yourself... you could take him to the toy store afterwards. Let him spend his pocket money...”

  Pocket money. I never used to get pocket money when I was growing up. Sure, I got cash but only after I had done some chores for it. Another perk of the ADHD? Seeing how they changed, after he was diagnosed... seeing how differently they started to treat him - I often wondered as to whether I should have tried to get myself diagnosed too.

  “Please...” she said.

  She did look tired. And to offer the bribe of the trainers, she must have been desperate for some ‘alone’ time.

  “Fine.... but I don’t want to get cheap trainers...” Just because she’s tired, and I feel sorry for her, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t take advantage of the situation. “You going to give us a lift?”

  “Bus fare?”

  “In that mood?” we both stopped and listened to him still ranting and raving in the room next door. “Maybe you need to talk to someone... get his medication increased or changed.”

  Mum sighed as though I’d hit upon a much discussed topic of conversation, “Your father is taking him to Dr. Hood next week.”

  I could see in her eyes that mum had had enough. She was struggling with holding down the job, coping with Lewis’ moods and keeping the house looking nice. I keep meaning to do more around the place for her.

  I’ll start tomorrow.

  Until I go to college. I’ll probably be busy after that.

  “So about the lift?” I asked again in the hope she’d see my point about having to take him on the bus.

  “You know he’ll be okay once he knows he’s going to the shops.”

  “Dad hasn’t taken me out for a driving lesson this week....”

  “He’s busy, he’ll make it up to you - he always does...”

  “I’ve got the plates, you could take me.”

  “Please, can you just get the bus... please... for me?”

  So much for the lift. Maybe I should just take a leaf out of Lewis’ book and throw a massive strop. I look at mum and give it a little more, serious, consideration. If it works for him - it might work for me too... she looks tired. Really tired.

  “I can’t wait to get my license,” I said, “fine.... we’ll get the bus.”

  Mum smiled, “Thank you - I’ll get your money.... and your brother.”

  She got up from the edge of the bed, and walked towards the doorway.

  “Don’t forget... I don’t want cheap trainers!” I called out.

  * * * * *

  Standing at the bus stop - mum was right, Lewis’ mood has improved. Sort of. He’s not screaming anymore, on the plus side, but - instead - he’s telling me what shops we’re going into and which ones we’re avoiding. Basically, he’s being just as irritating as if he was still throwing a strop.

  “And we’re definitely not going into any clothes shops...” Lewis ordered.

  I don’t agree nor disagree with what he’s saying. At the end of the day, we’ll go to the shops I want to go to. We’ll start with getting him his school shoes and then.... my trainers. After that, fair is fair, I’ll take him to the toy shop which caused the initial tantrum back at home.

  “What shops do you want to go to?” asked Lewis - after he finally finished listing the ones we definitely wouldn’t be frequenting ‘under any circumstances’.

  I didn’t answer him - no sense - he’ll probably only kick off. I’m not sure whether mum even told him we had to get his school shoes today. I doubt it very much. If she had told him - would have taken longer for him to get out of the house. He would have just started complaining again... a quiet whinging sort of complaining which escalates
up to yet another full-on tantrum. We all know how he works now.

  “Alex.... Alex...... Alex.... Alex.... what shops?.... Alex.... Alex.....”

  “What?!” I snapped.

  “What shops are we going to?”

  “Shut up!”

  “Alex..... Alex..... Alex.........”

  I love my brother. Sometimes. But it bothers me how he always gets what he wants. As though he’s the Golden Child. Sure, I understand the imbalance in his brain... I understand what causes his moods... it just annoys me how mum and dad tip toe their way around him for fear of setting him off. More annoying was when they first found out about his condition - beforehand we used to go out, as a family, at least a couple of times a week... soon as they found out, though, we stopped going out.

  It was ‘easier’ to wait for a film to be released on DVD than to bother seeing it at the cinema. It was ‘easier’ for mum to cook at home than to go to a nice restaurant for the evening. ‘Easier’ to buy a paddling pool, on a hot summer’s day, than it was to have a family trip to the beach... everything was ‘easier’ if we stayed at home.

  Sure, I was at the age where it wasn’t ‘cool’ to be hanging out with your family but - I’d have liked to have made the choice myself, whether to hang around with them or not.... not have it forced upon me because of my fucked up brother and his moods.

  “Alex.... Alex....”

  “Be quiet and just wait for the bus,” I said. Thinking about his many episodes is winding me up, probably best thinking about something else so we don’t have a fall-out. Bus-driver probably wouldn’t even let us on if we’re having a full on shouting match at each other.

  “I just want to know what shops we’re going to visit...” he continued - like an annoying insect buzzing around your head whilst you’re trying to sleep at night.

  “Let’s just get there, shall we....” I said in the hope it would be enough to quieten him. “Look, here comes the bus now.”

  I felt a little wave of relief wash through me, as the bus approached from up the road. So far so good and, better still, it’s not too far into town before we’re at the shopping mall either.

  “What shops.....” he continued.

  I wonder whether it will be easier to walk.

  2.

  Suddenly the door to the security office swung open and the head security officer came in. He wasn’t smiling. Not the face of someone who had found the little lost boy.

  “He hasn’t shown up?” I asked, a small part of me hoping that the security guard was just playing a cruel trick in pretending my brother was missing still but, in reality, he was waiting outside the door ready to burst in shouting ‘surprise’.

  The security guard shook his head.

  Mum’s going to kill me.

  “We’ve just made another announcement over the speaker,” said the security guard.

  “I can’t just stand here,” I said. “I’ll go and look for him too.... if he comes back - you can put a call out for me.... or.... or you can take my mobile number,” I reached into my pocket and pulled my phone out again and instantly started to retrieve my number for the officer.

  “It’s best if you wait here. It would be best for him to see a friendly face, when he comes here... he’s likely to be scared...” said the officer.

  “Exactly. Scared. I’m not waiting here... please, take this number down,” I said. I held my phone out for the guard. He simply shrugged and took it from my grasp before walking over to the desk. Taking a pen from the top drawer, along with a scrap of paper, he made a note of the number.

  “We’ll give you a ring,” he said handing the phone back to me.

  “Thank you.” I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

  “Just to let you know, though... the centre closes in an hour...”

  “Well what happens then?” I asked.

  The security officer didn’t answer. He simply gave me, what he must have thought to be, a comforting smile. His smile offered no comfort. It’s obvious what happens in an hour - we find out whether Lewis wandered off and simply got lost... or whether he is no longer in the shopping centre.

  “Is there anyone we can call for you?” the guard asked as I walked to the door, to begin my search.

  I shook my head, “No thank you.”

  I’ll look around for half an hour, I thought, half an hour and then I’ll give mum a ring.

  Part of me hoped I’d be able to find him in the half hour timeframe I’d given myself. That or he’d have made his way to the security office just as the announcement asked him. Either would be fine. Might even be able to bribe him with chocolates, or something, so as not to tell mum and dad.

  Please show up.

  Why did I have to be such a dick? Okay, don’t think about that now. Concentrate on finding him. Where to start, though? Including the food hall, there’s three floors here - not counting the car parking levels... no sense counting those... he wouldn’t go down there. He knows I wouldn’t be there. But then, maybe that’s a reason for him to go down to those levels - because he knows I’m not there - the best way to get away from me.

  Maybe he doesn’t want to be found after our argument.

  I told him I didn’t want to see him.... maybe he’s giving me what I wanted.

  No, he’s too stubborn for that.

  He’d sooner just stand there and rant and rave instead.

  He must be lost.

  He has to be lost.

  Okay, three floors then... would he go up to the food hall? Only a handful of fast food restaurants, pizza shops and a sandwich shop up there.... already eaten today....

  Two floors then.

  Rule the food hall out.

  Where to start now?

  Back to where I last saw him... the sports shop...

  Good a place as any to start.

  I hurried away from the security office, down the back corridor, towards the large double doors which led back to the inside of the shopping centre. As soon as I pushed one of the doors open, carefully so as not to catch anyone on the other side, I was swept away with the busy hustle and bustle of the crowds... hundreds of people frantically walking around trying to get their shopping done.

  Funny, now I’m listening out to hear Lewis crying out - the general noise from the strangers seems louder than I’d noticed before. Their voices all blending into one to create a loud, unrecognizable din. If only there was a way to quieten all but Lewis down.

  It’s hard to break into a full-on run, because of the crowds, but I manage to gather enough speed to break into a jog. A hasty jog towards the escalators, up to floor two where the sports shop is. Trying to think like a lost, eight year old boy.... this place must feel enormous to him. So many shops. So many people. So many unfamiliar faces coming out of nowhere... so much noise. He must be petrified. If I were his age and in his position, I would have been. Especially in this shopping centre - one of the biggest. Perhaps asking him to make his way to the security office was a bad idea. Would he know where it is? I had to ask someone.... would he even ask?

  Surely, he would... he’s not stupid. Difficult - yes. Stupid - no. But then, he’s lost. Probably not thinking straight. Probably panicking. I hope I find him in the sports shop. I hope.

  It would be great if he was there. Sat on one of the many chairs that lined the wall, next to the trainer display.... sat there acting all innocent, as though he had never wandered off in the first place. If I do find him - I won’t shout at him for running off. I’ll just be grateful that I’d found him....

  If I find him?

  When.

  When I find him.

  Definitely no shouting.

  Stuck behind some fat people, on the escalators now. No point trying to say ‘excuse me’ - even if they both moved to the side, on their own step, there still wouldn’t be room enough for me to squeeze by. On their way to floor three, no doubt.... the food hall. I dodge past them as soon as we all step off the escalator... okay, I can see the sports shop n
ow. Over by Julian Graves, the health store.

  As I get closer to the store, I can see through the window that it’s not as busy as earlier... the staff members milling around by the till-point, no doubt counting down the minutes until the shop closes - thirty minutes before the centre does. Everyone seems to be relaxed and having a laugh - can’t see anyone making a fuss over a little, lost, eight year old boy.... Keep optimistic... it doesn’t mean he isn’t in there...