"You're right, aah, Amanda, but I had the impression they weren't quite sure," said Arthur.
"Or didn't want to say."
"Perhaps you're right," he mused, feeling a small sense of progress with someone who seemed to understand him, to be on his side.
"And, secondly, I may be able to help in another way," said Amanda. "I was made redundant, three years ago, quite suddenly. Would you like to hear a little of my story - it might help."
"Why, yes, Amanda, if you have the time," said Arthur. "I'm sure you're very busy."
"Arthur, I am very busy but, you know what? This is one of my favourite jobs, helping people through what I've been through. It's not really police work but I'd like to help in any way I can," said Amanda.
"Looks like my day's improving!" said Arthur, forcing a smile as the heaviness in his stomach lifted a little.
"Right," said Amanda, "I get off work at one o'clock, in ten minutes. How about I go back to the station, sign out and come back and we can go and have a coffee together?"
"Gosh, that's the second invitation I've had from a nice young lady today," said Arthur, feeling his humour returning a little. "That sounds like a lovely idea, thanks."
"I'll bring my paperwork back and tell the sarge I'm taking your statement. That'll save you having to come in," she said, getting up. "I'll only be a mo'."
He could have felt uneasy, after all that had happened, but he just couldn't be bothered feeling much at all. Besides, he told himself logically, it's unlikely another scuffle would happen right here, again. Then the sun came out from behind a huge cloudbank and he smiled. With absolutely nothing else to do, right then, he wondered what he'd he really love to do that would stir his passions and raise his spirits? Sadly, he had trouble thinking of anything much - all his mind could come up with were unlikely things like writing a book and climbing Ayers Rock. He wondered where those strange thoughts came from. They weren't likely, in the next little while so he tried again. Nothing else presented itself and he began to wonder if his wife was right in labelling him a man without passion and ambition. He also began to wonder, for the first time ever, what he could do that would stir his blood.
Victim or Graduate
Monday, 5th March 2012, 1.04 p.m.
She plonked herself on the seat, beside him, with a sigh and a smile, and he wondered how she'd got there without him noticing.
"Now, Sir," she said, looking directly into his eyes, which he found a little disconcerting, "how are you feeling? A little less shaky?"
"Ah, yes, a little steadier, thank you Constable," he said, examining his shoes.
"Amanda, please call me Amanda. Now, a question that might seem a little strange," she said in an accent that was not English but was one he'd heard before, quite recently. "Why do you think you attracted this series of upsetting events to you?"
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, nonplussed.
"I thought you'd find it strange. While you're pondering that, why don't we pop over to my favourite café and we'll reflect on life," she said, "and I'll take your statement."
"Well, yes, of course."
"Unless you have a favourite café?" she asked.
"Well, actually, I've never been inside a café till this morning."
"What, you haven't? Your education is sadly lacking, Arthur. Let me treat you!" she said, bounding up and taking his hand to help him rise.
"Gosh, how very gallant of you," he said, bowing, "how can I refuse such an offer!"
She tripped along, her golden curls bouncing in the sunlight and he had trouble keeping up. She ordered their coffees and they sat at a bench, looking through the window onto the street.
"Good. Now, as I said, I was made redundant three years ago," said Amanda. "I'd worked for them, the shipping firm, since I left university - ten years I was there. I was shocked, I was depressed and I lost it."
"Lost it?" asked Arthur.
"Yes, lost it," said Amanda. "The shipping business was in a downturn and they had to put people off - I was one of the lucky ones!"
"But it wasn't your fault, Amanda," said Arthur. "My situation's different - it's definitely personal and they see me as a problem, I think, though the problem's not my fault, they said. I'm just not sure ..."
"Arthur, whether it's your fault or not, it still feels like your fault," said Amanda. "Besides, whether it's your fault or not, it doesn't matter. The fact is, you're out of a job, sort of, and you feel like crap ... oh, sorry, you feel horrible."
Arthur laughed. "Yes, I do feel like crap, though I dare say I've never used that word before."
"Ok, crap it is," said Amanda chuckling. "And that crap immobilized me. I suppose I became depressed, though depression's what you do, not what you are."
"What you do?" asked Arthur, confused.
"Yes, depression's what you do and I'll explain that in a minute," said Amanda, talking faster and faster as if she had so many words to get out in a limited time. "I just became unable to function. I couldn't bring myself to look for another job, to apply for an unemployment benefit, to see my friends, to tell my family ... sometimes I just couldn't get myself out of bed for days, except to eat and pee. At times I wanted it all to end but I couldn't be bothered doing anything to end my life ... I couldn't even do that properly!"
"Goodness, that's ... terrible," said Arthur.
"Yes, it was terrible, oppressing and debilitating." said Amanda quietly. "It was also the best thing that ever happened to me."
"The best ..."
"Yep, the best thing ever," said Amanda, brightening again. "You see, Arthur, as I lay in my bed or lounged in my flat that was getting grubbier and grubbier, I saw myself as totally useless, no point to being here and I cried and cried and yelled at God, the world and everything else. I fumed, I bellowed, I cried and I went down screaming, sobbing. Eventually I stopped fighting. I was just too exhausted. That was when I wanted it to end."
"You mean ... suicide?" asked Arthur, shocked.
"Suicide, earthquake, bombing ... I didn't care how it ended, I just wanted it to," said Amanda fiercely. "Of course, with no income, I'd used up all my savings and I had to do something - my parents lived nearby, in New Zealand, but I couldn't ask them for help. I couldn't tell them or anyone else about how useless I was. I was so ashamed ..."
"You poor thing, Amanda."
"You might say that! I thought it - 'you poor thing, Amanda' - and, after six months of all this pity for poor Amanda, I finally gave up. I gave in. I said to whoever was listening - God, the universe, Buddha, Mother Mary, Jesus, anyone - Enough, I've had enough! I was just sick of it all and desperately wanted something to change ... anything to change. I cried so hard my skin hurt ... all over. Then, pffttt, it was all over!"
"Pffttt?" asked Arthur, bemused.
"Yes, pffttt," said Amanda, giggling at the thought. "Pffttt, it was all over. Like a small ray of sunshine piercing the clouds, I woke from my bad dream and didn't want the misery any more."
"But you didn't want misery anyway!" said Arthur, feeling the abyss of confusion drawing him down again.
"No, I wouldn't have thought so at the time," said Amanda, wiping her eyes. "But the reality is that I was sad, miserable, crying and every other stupid thing because I wanted to be. It suited some silly need in me to wallow in self-pity. So I wallowed and then, when the pain was too much or I was bored with it, I'd had enough. Pffttt!"
"Oh! Oh dear, I hadn't thought of it like that," said Arthur, seeing his own sunlight through a cloudy mind.
"And when I'd had my pffttt moment, when I said "Enough!" to the universe, my mind changed from one of pity to one of recovery - how can I get out of this?" said Amanda. "Then Brian turned up. Amazing timing, really. But, as I learned, there's no such thing as a coincidence - there's just you and me and everybody else asking for what we want and then, pffttt, getting it!"
"Oh dear," said Arthur, seeing his ray of sunshine lighting a piece of reality. "So you're saying I actually asked to be s
ent out ... I actually wanted this to happen ... and the accident with that criminal ..."
"You probably won't want to hear this but yep!" said Amanda. "Maybe your job's not exciting enough any more, for whatever reason, and you're looking for some adventure, some excitement, something exotic ..."
"Well, I do seem to be thinking of Australia ... or is it New Zealand, I'm not sure," said Arthur, feeling strangely uncomfortable, in a world that didn't quite fit any more.
"And so you bump into a Kiwi - me!"
"A Kiwi?"
"A New Zealander, Arthur, we call ourselves Kiwis," said Amanda.
"Oh I see," said Arthur, absorbing yet another new fact. "Actually, you're the second New ... Kiwi I've met today. Two lovely young ladies and both caring!"
"Aah, caring," said Amanda, savouring the word and clapping her hands gleefully. "You see, the universe really does want you to realise that it cares, that help is there. Just ask."
"Just ask?" said Arthur. "Ask who?"
"Ask the universe, silly," said Amanda punching his arm playfully. "In your head, out loud, in prayer. It doesn't matter, just ask. You've already got two helpful Kiwis without consciously asking so think what you'll get if you do ask."
"Oh, ah, yes," said Arthur, feeling as if the swamp through which he had been trudging his whole life was, finally, starting to release his feet.
"So what did you do next?" asked Arthur, concerned, while remembering that the person telling this dreadful story was a fully functioning policewoman now.
"Well, actually Arthur, I did nothing at all - I just said Enough with a passion I'd never felt before and the universe took over," said Amanda, smiling at the memory.
"The universe?" asked Arthur, starting to feel lost.
"Universe, God, Buddha, spirit guides, Aunty Mavis ... whatever you like to call whatever you believe in ... whatever you feel that it is that's bigger than any of us," said Amanda, trying to slow down for a concerned-looking Arthur. "I don't know how it happened, really, but it did."
"What did, Amanda?"
"The magic, Arthur, the magic," said Amanda.
"The magic?" asked Arthur, feeling totally lost and wondering if this girl wasn't a bit insane.
"Sounds a bit insane, doesn't it?" asked Amanda. All Arthur could manage was a silly smile. "You see, Arthur, I called for help, with passion, and it turned up," said Amanda. "I yelled, in my head, in my bed, so no one could hear: Enough. Enough. I've had enough! And things started to happen."
"Things?" asked Arthur, feeling things returning to normal a little.
"Yes, things," said Amanda. "The next morning I received a letter from Her Majesty's very kind Tax Department, suggesting that, as I had been made redundant, I might be in for a refund. You have no idea how something that simple can lift a person's spirits - especially someone who has lost all faith in everything. Suddenly, without effort on my part, I was being offered help."
"Did you get the refund?" asked Arthur, feeling some hope for himself.
"Ever-practical Arthur," said Amanda, laughing. "I didn't have the energy, at the time, to do anything about it. I just felt a little better, a little supported. That was all that mattered then. And, yes, I did eventually get the refund I badly needed!"
"Mmm, that's good," said Arthur with his hope supported a little.
"And that's not all!" said Amanda. "That afternoon I received a call from one of my co-workers, Brian, to see how I was. I hadn't spoken to any of them since I'd left - I felt too embarrassed to do so. Anyway, it turned out that Brian, made redundant like me, had also being going through similar stress as me, for about three months and had recently found a new job, moved to a new flat and had met this amazing new girlfriend. Life was on the up and up for him. And, of course, I wanted what he had."
"But he helped you somehow?" asked Arthur.
"Yes. He got bossy, told me he was coming around to take me out for a coffee and a chat," said Amanda, chuckling at the memory. "I was too embarrassed to be seen like I was but he insisted he'd be round in half an hour. A girl's vanity is a great motivator, you know! I was off the couch, in the shower, dressed in my least creased and dirty clothes, vaguely made up and at my front door minutes before he arrived. I sure as hell wasn't going to let him see the state of my flat!"
"And you went for a coffee?" asked Arthur, checking that he was still with the story.
"Well, the coffee was an excuse to get me out and talking," said Amanda. "And, once I started, he couldn't stop me! Anyway, he listened to my moans and groans until I exhausted myself - I think he reordered coffee some way through my diatribe."
"You eventually stopped - was he sympathetic?" asked Arthur, feeling sympathetic.
"Sympathetic? Hell no!" said Amanda. "I expected him to show some sympathy or compassion or caring but no! When I stopped raving, he asked, 'so, what are you going to do about it now?'"
"Gosh, that was a little harsh," said Arthur.
"Yes, that's what I thought at the time. I just started crying," said Amanda, a tear of remembrance slipping down her cheek.
"You cried ... in front of him?"
"You betcha I did. I couldn't stop it!" said Amanda. "His reaction was such a shock. So he just asked me again, so coolly, what did I want to do about it. I guess I got a little angry and shouted at him to 'shut up, I've just had enough, I just want this to be over!"
"That must have been particularly upsetting," said Arthur, feeling very sorry for her.
"Upsetting. Hell, he just started laughing," said Amanda, chuckling at the memory. "I was so shocked I stopped blubbing and just stared at him. He said he was so thrilled I'd got angry as that was the start of the uphill run."
"The uphill run?"
"Yes, the way he explained it was that depression and anger had the same cause - they're both from unmet expectations," said Amanda, "The difference is in the behaviour to that disappointment. In depression we go inside and cut off from the world. We can't function. Then, when we change our behaviour to anger, we go out, lash out in some way. When we get to that stage, we're ready to actually do something about our situation - we're ready to fight back. I must say, I did feel quite empowered when I had my angry outburst. The best I'd felt in months!"
"Ah, I hadn't thought of it that way," said Arthur, quietly. "I suppose I thought anger was particularly antisocial."
"Well, yes, it is if it's misdirected against people and things," said Amanda, brightening up. "However, it's just energy and, used constructively, can be positively powerful. After all, Greenpeace, Amnesty International and CORSO were all started by anger - by a sense of injustice - directed constructively."
"I suppose you're right," said Arthur, trying to take in all these new ideas. "So how did he help you?"
"Well, he tried to explain something to me that I didn't get at the time," said Amanda, smiling crookedly. "You might not get it right now, but I'd like to try and explain it to you ..."
"Yes?" said Arthur, on the edge of his seat, quite oblivious to the people in the café and passing by on the street.
"Okay, well, here goes," said Amanda. "Let's use the word universe instead of God or whatever. It's just a word for something I don't quite know how to explain."
"Yes?"
"So, let's pretend you have a particular life path to walk," said Amanda. "I know this sounds a bit spooky, but it feels right to me. Do you understand?"
"No, not really," said Arthur as a warm feeling rose up his spine. Though the idea was new and a little peculiar, it had a feeling of rightness about it.
"Okay, as I said, let's pretend that you have a particular life path. Certain things you need to do in this life," said Amanda, obviously choosing her words carefully. "Now, we don't necessarily know what that path is or even that it exists. You with me?"
"I'm not sure. I might be if you keep going."
"So we have certain things to do or achieve and, somehow, someone, something keeps us on the path," said Amanda. "Some people are able to feel tha
t guidance, so to speak, and they stick to the path. Most of us, however, don't feel these things and, though the universe speaks to us in a multitude of ways we don't hear it. We plough on blindly ignorant."
"Mmm."
"So, if we're here for a particular purpose but don't know what it is, don't even know that it exists, how the heck are we supposed to carry out our sacred mission?" asked Amanda. "How do we get connected, how do we plug into the universe to get the right job done?"
"Mmm, a conundrum."
"Absolutely! It's such an illogical system, we might think - being given a job we don't know about and don't have any tools for," said Amanda. "We're all floundering in the dark."
"Sounds very confusing ..."
"It sounds like that but it's not," said Amanda, smiling. "It's actually very logical and very simple, really."
"Oh, is it?" said Arthur, surprised.
"Yep, it sure is," she said, chirpily. "We get out of our own way and we let the universe talk."
"Pardon?" said Arthur, returning to the edge of confusion's abyss.
"Exactly!" said Amanda, laughing. "You see, we all get so busy doing what we think we ought to be doing - we get oughtism - listening to the ideas and commands of others, the constant desire to look good, that we forget to feel good. Obeying the clamour of the world that clashes with our own spiritual calling, we live lives of desperate futility, bitter and frustrated."
"You mean that others feel like that ... not just me?" asked Arthur, with clouds of doubt dispersing again, albeit slowly, while he felt a strange sense of connection with this stranger who described his life so accurately.
"Very few people live life happily, peacefully and in accord with their true calling," said Amanda, her enthusiasm never waning. "And yet we all hold the key but choose not to unlock the door of our self-constructed prison. Silly, really!"
"So how do we get out of this prison, then?" asked Arthur, sensing light beginning to dawn.
"You've started the process already, though you don't know it, just like I didn't till Brian turned up," she said. "Now that you've said Enough! and I've turned up. Stay open and the rest will unfold itself."
The Last Stand Down Page 4