Thief of Mind

by Ben Thomas

  I do recall the time Mum was going to the hospital to see Granny and said that Granny wanted to see me too. I’d said no, because I wanted to play football with my mates. I didn’t go and see her. Then a few days later, I think, Mum…no Dad…Dad said that I really should go and see Granny because she had been asking to see me and I might not get another chance. They obviously knew that Granny was nearing the end, but I probably just thought Dad meant that I wouldn’t get another chance to see her in hospital because she would be coming home soon.

  I did go in and see her, but she didn’t see me. When I went in her room she was sleeping. Beeping machines were round her and a mask and tube were in her mouth. Mum was there too. Mum went to get a drink or something and I was with Granny on my own. A nurse came in and shouted and others ran into the room, doctors and nurses I presume. I got rushed out of the room. After a while a doctor came out and spoke to Mum. Mum started wailing. Granny had died. She died on the one day I came to see her. She had died when it was just me and her in the room.

  So it looked like I just stopped writing to Granny. Mum must have had had a pep talk with me which persuaded me that I didn’t need to write any more. Either that or all it took was the cinema and pizza to make me forget about her. I still think of Granny now, only occasionally though, usually on her birthday. Her birthday… Another memory stirred and pulled me up off the bed, and I went over to the desk. I pulled the desk away from the wall. I knelt and felt along the bottom of the skirting board and my hands came to a loose bit of carpet. I pulled it up to reveal the floorboards and my hands moved instinctively to one particular floor board. I lifted it up and reached underneath where my hand found it still there. I pulled out the shoe box and opened it up.

  Straight away I saw what I had been looking for. Two birthday cards to Granny. They weren’t dated, but most likely they were for the two birthdays that followed her death. The message in each was straightforward: To Granny, happy birthday, love Toby. But the cards were not the only things in the box. There was a photo of me and Granny and Mum. Photos of me, Mum and Dad. Me holding Jess when she was a baby. There were a few cheesy valentine’s day cards, probably from mum, loads of certificates for rugby, swimming, football and, oh yeah, my cycling proficiency award. I’d been wondering where that was.

  Then there was a note pad and a red journal. I opened the note pad and started reading the familiar scrawl:

  Dear God

  I hope you don’t mind me writing but I didn’t know who or what else to write to. I read somewhere that if things are bothering you, you should write down your feelings, like in a diary. That’s a bit girly though… sorry I don’t think you’re allowed to say ‘girly’ are you? I know that because we’ve been learning about sexism. I would rather write to you than a diary because you’re quite influential aren’t you? Life is pretty crap at the moment. I would say sorry for swearing but I know you can read my mind anyway and you know crap is how I think of life at the moment so I may as well write it. You’re not going to punish me for that are you?

  Anyway, I missed three conversions today, easy ones and we lost and I know it’s my fault. Kev kept saying after I missed the first two that he should take the next one. I just ignored him and took it and I missed. We would have won if I’d kicked it. No one cares that I scored two tries. I overheard Longo saying that I bottled it but then I heard Kev tell him to shut the fuck up (sorry swearing again, but I’m just repeating what Kev said). They blame me though. I let them down. Please help me to play better. Please don’t let me mess up again. I’m sorry if I’ve done anything wrong.

  Please stop Mum and Dad arguing. I hate it.

  Cheers T,

  Sorry I mean Amen

  What an idiot. Why was I so bothered about getting beat in Rugby? I remember that game. I actually played pretty well in it, I would have been in, what, Year 9? Yeah, I would have been about thirteen. Didn’t realise I was so religious. Rory would be proud.

  God if you are real please will you help Mum and Dad. They were arguing again last night. Well it’s more Mum sort of shouting at Dad. She’s very angry with him. Please don’t let them argue again tonight.

  Hey Big Man

  My nightly prayer letter, well not quite nightly, more like when I can be bothered. Took me four hours to get into bed last night. I was wondering, is that normal? Doubt it but at least mum and dad weren’t arguing last night so that’s a result. I know as long as I keep up the rule of 3 they’ll be okay. Hope it doesn’t take four hours tonight but I’ll do it for as long as it takes for mum and dad to be okay.

  Ps Can I have a girlfriend please. Kev’s got one. Even Cam has. I’m a pretty good catch so it shouldn’t be too difficult for you to organise especially with your power.

  Any way laters.

  Good to see me getting my priorities right. It’ll take more than a quick prayer to get me a girlfriend these days.

  Good work big G. As you know (I know, I know you know everything) there’s good news on the girlfriend front. Susie Cowley fancies me. Word on the street is that shes going to be asking me out. She is proper fit. Got the paper in the bin three times in a row and I saw her initials on a number plate that had the number 3 on it so I know there’s a good chance we’ll get together. Cheers God.

  God so annoyed at Dad. He had a right go at me because I blocked the toilet again. He said you should only need to use three sheets. Don’t think so old man. You might want to stink but not me. Mum’s very quiet. Can you check she’s okay. Thanks.

  Yeah, come on Dad, three sheets is definitely not enough to clean your bum, OCD or no OCD.

  Hey almighty one. Saw somebody wearing a t shirt today which said ‘blessed’ on it. Reminded me of Granny. She always used to say ‘bless you’ to me didn’t she. Had a feeling today would be a good day after that and oh yeah who should score four tries and totally boss the game? Only Super T (me). And oh yeah Susie was watching and afterwards she asked me out. Boooommmm!!! Have a bit of that.

  Why is mum being like this. All she does is scream at dad in the night and then ignore him during the day. I don’t think she’s well though. She keeps being sick. That’s no excuse for being so mean to dad. Kev’s mum and dad are divorced and he hates his dad now. I wouldn’t be surprised if mum and dad split up. I’ve been spending a lot of time at Kev’s house. His mum is so cool. She’s never moody. Oh please please please don’t let mum and dad split up. I don’t want dad to leave. Don’t let it happen. I cant let it happen.

  So it turns out Mums pregnant. I’m going to have a new brother or sister. Hopefully brother. She said that’s why she’s not been feeling well. Wonder what it will be like to have a new brother.

  One o’clock in the morning and guess what I’m still awake and yes Mum and Dad are still arguing well actually the arguing has stopped now and now she’s doing something like a cross between crying and howling like a wolf that’s been shot. I’ve been trying to listen to what they’re arguing about but its hard to make anything out. Hopefully they’ll stop soon.

  Mum’s back. I hate this. It’s now 3:37 in the morning. I’ve just been out looking for Mum. I heard her shout really loud... ‘Stay away from me, you don’t even want this baby! Why don’t you go back to that stupid beach.’ Dad has been away a lot but I thought it was away with work not on holiday. I heard the front door slam and looked out the window to see Mum walking out the gate. I put my hoodie, trackies and trainers on and snuck down stairs and tried to follow her but I couldn’t find her and it was dark, I was shitting myself. I was looking for about 30 minutes and then came home. I thought this is it mums left but she’s just come back in. It’s quiet now. I don’t want mum to leave.

  I couldn’t believe I’d been so naïve. I hadn’t thought about the arguments for ages because they only happened for a brief period of time. Mum and Dad had appeared to have the perfect marriage since then, so I’d been able to put everything to the back o
f my mind. Yes, I remembered the arguments. Yes, I remembered trying to find mum that night, and I also remembered thinking it was all Mum’s fault because she was being a cow to Dad. So I blamed her. I only really ever heard her shouting. Turns out, though, Dad was being a dirty bastard and had been having an affair. What a numpty I was not to realise at the time. I should have kicked the fuck out of him…or at least threatened to…Dad was pretty hard back then. Still, don’t think I could have him now. Has their marriage really been a sham all this time?

  Boom shakalaka!!! Super T has been selected for the Engish Schools Rugby team to play Wales and Scotland. Dad reckons I will play for the full England team when I’m old enough. I can deffo do it. Also found out I aced my maths exam…never in doubt. Dad is well chuffed. I told Mum but she didn’t seem bothered. She’s treating me like Dad at the moment. She’s either snapping at me or ignoring me. I don’t know what me or Dad have done wrong. I told Lorraine about the Rugby and she was happier about it than Mum. She said it’s not easy for women when they are pregnant because of hormones, whatever they are. I just nodded and pretended I knew what she was talking about. Any way I’m going to start my checks and then go to bed.

  I am proper pissed off. Kev is being a complete nob head. Me and Susie only broke up two days ago and tonight he got off with her right in front of me at the disco. Proper rubbing my face in it. I knew something like this would happen. I saw too many number plates with N on them before the disco. I nearly missed the bus cos I was waiting to see 3 Ys to cancel the Ns out. Didn’t see enough Ys so I knew something shit was about to happen. Darren said I should have smacked Kev and maybe I should have, I could definitely have him but mates don’t do that to each other, do they? But mates don’t do the dirty on each other either do they? Everyone reckons me and Kev are best mates but that’s only because we’ve known each other for so long. I probably prefer Darren and Ryan anyway. Had an argument with Mum when I got in. She asked me what was wrong and I shouted at her and told her I knew she wasn’t interested in me, all she’s interested in is the new baby. And I told her, I told her that I don’t even want her to have the new baby just like Dad doesn’t. Things were okay until she got pregnant. I told her I don’t want the baby to be born. She proper bollocked me. Told me never to say anything so horrible ever again and said I didn’t mean it. I told her I did.

  Haven’t heard Mum and Dad fighting for a few days now so the increase in checks are working. Just finished for tonight. The curtains have been pulled together, drawers closed, wardrobe door pushed shut, bedroom door shut nine times (three times three). There is no way the evil will escape tonight. Kev and me are cool again. He’s not going out with Susie. Said she told him that me and her weren’t even proper going out with each other in the first place which I guess is kind of true. Went round to Kev’s tonight to play a new game on his computer and Lorraine made tea. Better being at his house than here. Fucking hell…I need to do my checks again.

  Somethings going on. I’m at Kev’s. Lorraine picked me up. Dad’s taken Mum to hospital. I heard Mum screaming. I don’t know what’s happening. Lorraine said that Mum’s going to be okay, they just need to check the baby’s okay. I’m worried about Mum. I need to get home to do my checks. I need to make sure she’s going to be okay. I cant get home to do the checks. Please let Mum be okay.

  God I know I haven’t written to you for a while but please protect Mum, protect and bless her. Bring her home safely please.

  I’m an evil person, I know it for sure now. Mum’s okay which is great but my little sister isn’t and it’s my fault. Dad said Mum had the baby but the baby wasn’t meant to come yet. The baby wasn’t ready yet. Dad said the baby was very weak and cant come home because she isn’t well enough. I went to see her and Mum today. Mum looks knackered but she is okay (thankfully) but the baby is tiny, so small. She’s in a plastic cot and has all wires coming out of her. She might die…and I know why. Its my fault. It’s because I told Mum I didn’t want the baby to be born. I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t mean it but I did say it and now she might die. I am so so so so sorry. Please let her live. I love my sister. I want Jess to live.

  Yes, you did cause it. You wanted her to die. You let the evil get her.

  I was trembling. Haunted by the past and hounded by the present. He didn’t need to remind me. It was all there in black and white. I knew it back then. My carelessness, my selfishness had caused the harm to come to Jess. That’s what I’d told myself at the time. That’s what he was telling me now.

  Jess was premature, her heart wasn’t strong enough. They kept her in for four weeks. Mum was at the hospital non-stop. For a moment I actually thought that she had finally left Dad. She was never home. I didn’t think either Mum or Jess would ever come home.

  Mum had said that she started noticing things with me round about the time Jess was born. Well, reading what I just had it seems that I was already dipping my toe into mentalism, but I remember clearly now that my OCD really started getting super charged after Jess was born. I really did blame myself; I was convinced of it and I tried my best to rectify things. Whilst Jess was in hospital every action I performed had to be repeated either three or nine times. Not just checking things were closed in my bedroom. It was walking through doors, picking things up, even speaking words. I remember I had to repeat the last word of every sentence I spoke three times. I would whisper it under my breath so no one thought I was weird.

  When Jess got better my checking was vindicated. I really believed that my vigilance had brought her back from the brink. Mum and Dad started to get along better too. I honestly do know that my checking had nothing to do with it. I don’t know about Mum and Dad, but with regards to Jess she was in good hands; she was being cared for round the clock by experts. She had a problem, and the help was there for her straight away. I had a problem, but where was my help?

  Reading this I felt like a voyeur of my own life. I was angry with the young Toby for being such an idiot, for allowing myself to be fooled. I wanted to step back in time and give myself a good old fashioned bollocking, to tell myself to pull myself together. Yet even more, I wanted to go back in time and give the young Toby a hug. I wanted to be there for him, to tell him everything would be alright. I could feel my heart breaking. I was a helpless bystander witnessing the tragedy of my life unfolding.

  I flicked through the rest of the note pad. The remaining pages were random entries including England football player profiles that I had compiled; the odd tactics for upcoming rugby matches; a few embarrassing poems I had composed for a couple of love interests, which thankfully never saw the light of day; and several practices of my autograph, a refreshing sign that, back then, I still thought I would be famous through my rugby. There were no more diaryesque entries or prayers. I haven’t got a clue why some were like letters to God and why some were just like diary entries.

  Why did I stop? Haven’t got a clue. Possibly I didn’t see the point, or more likely it felt too much like hard work, or maybe I was happy and didn’t feel that I had much to moan about. Yes, the OCD was a constant presence, but apart from Mum and Dad arguing for that relatively brief period, and apart from Jess’s difficult birth, I genuinely believe that, on balance, most of the time I was happy.

  I picked up the red journal:

  09/09/2002

  Ok here we go, first entry for an epic last year at school. Big, big year. Mr Craine said we should all write down our goals and revisit them regularly to make sure we are on track. I’m going one step further and am going to write down my goals and keep a journal as to my progress. Sort of like an autobiography which will save time in writing one for when I’m playing for England. Right so the goals:

  •Get selected for England U 20s

  •Smash my A – Levels

  •Earn some cash

  •Get laid

  •Stop being weird

  10/09/2002

  A boom
boom boom let me hear you say wayoh!!! So who’s been named Head Boy. Yes Super T to the rescue. Head Boy Toby Brammal, Deputy Head Kevin Flannagan…Unlucky Kev!!! Should be a pretty easy gig. All I’ve got to do is the odd assembly, bollock some Year 7s and walk around like I’m the man. Will look good on the old CV and shouldn’t do my pulling chances any harm.

  Club training tonight. Managed to leave the house without going back to check the door was locked. Saw an N on number plate but didn’t need to cancel it out. So that, my friend, is what is known as progress.

  21/09/2002

  Scored a try, a conversion and three penalties this morning for Vagas. Basically won us the game. Jonesy said there were a couple of scouts at the match. First school shield match on Thursday. With me, Kev and Darren in the team we should have a good chance of going all the way.

  26/09/2002

  A good day today. We won our first match very, very easily. Two tries for me. Kev got three and even Bobby scored one, he actually played really well. All the girls were watching. Kev reckons Helen was watching him. He reckons he’s in. Might be imagining it but every time I glanced over during a break in play I’m sure she was looking at me. After the match McMahon called me into his office and told me that if I keep playing as well as I did today then we can win the Schools Shield for the first time ever. Cheers Sir, no pressure there then.