by Rhys Thomas
I was shocked by his outright honesty, the way he seemed to trust us enough to speak like this.
‘I want my life to be one big romantic adventure. A journey towards paradise. I want to be part of a world inside a world. See, I think that there are lots of people like us.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Jenny. ‘“Like us”?’
‘You know.’ Freddy nodded out to the lake. ‘People who like doing things like this. When I was back home, my friends wouldn’t come to a place like this if I asked them. They’d tell me to fuck off. They’d want to try and get into a club or something. But I’d much prefer to come to somewhere like this and just talk.’
I smiled. I preferred things like this as well; we all did. It wasn’t just going to the lake, it was far more than that. I had always felt like I was different from most of the kids at my school. They all seemed so normal, they fitted in so well. I was popular in school, but I felt like I was lying. I felt like I had to act different to how I was so that I could fit in.
‘I know it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, and sometimes I think the world has got something really wrong with it, but I just know that there are other people like us, who feel the same way as us, all over the place. Do you know what I mean?’
I did know. I knew exactly what he meant. Nobody said anything.
‘They probably feel really cut off, but they’re not. It just feels that way because there’s a big distance between us. That’s what special is – being rare, right? But I want to find people like that and hold on to them. Don’t you think that would be great? Like if there was a sort of club?’
‘A club for lost souls?’ I said dramatically.
‘Yes! And we’ll find each other and when we do we’ll make sure we live our lives to the absolute limit. All of the people who refuse to give up on their dreams will go together into the unknown, wherever it may take us, and leave everyone else behind.’
I thought for a moment about my dream of writing cartoons for kids and wondered if I would ever give up on that. The way things were looking I’d go to university and study something that would give me a safe career because that was what my parents wanted. I didn’t want to do it, but I certainly felt the pressure.
Freddy brushed his hand through his hair. It looked like he may have been getting upset – it was hard to tell.
‘I see adults walking around and I think, What happened to you? Why did you give up? I’ve actually said this to my dad and he just said, “You’ll learn.’”
I didn’t know if he was still talking to us at this point, but we were certainly still listening.
‘Well, I don’t really want to learn that lesson. It doesn’t sound like much of a thing to learn – how to collapse. People always said that I’d stop liking this or stop liking that when I got older, but it’s never happened so far. I still have my Phantom Menace figures! One of my teachers asked me if I wanted to drive a nice car when I’m older and I said that that sort of thing doesn’t really interest me and he told me that it will when I see my friends driving around in them.’ He leaned forward and looked at us. ‘But I don’t believe that. I don’t think I ever will.’
‘My parents always say that to me!’ Matthew exclaimed. ‘I know what you mean!’ I was surprised how urgently he said it; he was usually so sceptical about this sort of dreamy-talking. I noticed that he had his arm around Jenny. She was looking out across the lake, not saying anything. Her parents were probably the strictest out of all of us.
‘I think we just have to hang on. That’s the secret. Like as if we’re in a tree and life is trying to shake us out. Nearly everyone will fall off but I think a few people can stick it out if they have each other for support. People like us.’ He swallowed. ‘That’s what I mean.’
‘But it’s not that easy, is it?’ said Matthew. ‘It’s nice to talk about it, sure, but you have to get a job eventually.’
‘Yeah, but not doing something you hate. That’s what I mean. You don’t want to have a miserable life.’
Clare sat up.
‘I want to hear more about this adventure.’
Freddy’s tone changed suddenly. The serious side of him had suddenly left and a playful side had taken its place.
‘It’s an adventure, that’s all. For the people who never let go. Like, tomorrow we’ll stop off in a forest glade, drink wine and recite poetry about unrequited love.’
The picture burned up in my mind with incredible clarity. It was tongue in cheek but it was still very strong.
‘Can we wear scarves?’ I asked.
Freddy raised an eyebrow.
‘My dear Richard, scarves are an imperative.’
‘My God,’ cooed Clare. ‘That sounds ace. I’ll bring a picnic hamper.’
Then Jenny cottoned on.
‘And I’ll take pictures of the whole thing.’
‘Black-and-white, of course,’ Freddy said with a smile. He stopped and looked at us again. ‘I think I’m glad I’ve met you.’ Reaching inside his coat he pulled out a packet of Marlboro Lights. ‘Let’s smoke cigarettes.’ He looked at us as if we were naughty children about to break the rules. Which, I suppose, is exactly what we were. Matt declined but the rest of us accepted.
‘We need to smoke a lot on our grand adventure,’ Freddy said. ‘And make love in bedsits on cloudy afternoons.’
‘Freddy!’ Clare’s eyes opened wide in faux shock.
‘I’m sorry,’ he protested, ‘but it’s true. We can’t deny ourselves anything. That’s the point of the whole philosophy.’ He sat back on the slab and leaned against the wall. ‘To live like that.’
His hair looked blue in the moonlight. I lit my cigarette and blew out some smoke. I couldn’t tell where the smoke ended and my condensed breath began. My insides were humming. I had had my feelings articulated into words with perfection. Somebody understood me. I had found someone. There was a comfortable silence, the atmosphere happy and light as we shared the remainder of the vodka and smoked away in the freezing-cold folly whilst the snow-white lake shone only for us.
5
WHEN MY PARENTS got back together, they asked me how I would feel about their having another baby – a new member of the family. I said absolutely not, went crazy, threw a lot of things that I owned and slammed my door. My parents never did have another kid and my job was done. But now when I try to remember it I get the worst human feeling – that one where you know you’ve done something very wrong and which you can never undo.
When I think back on that time, I feel awful for what I did. The reason my parents wanted a new baby was because it would set a marker for their relationship – out of something bad would come something good. The new baby would have really brought them close – which they are now, but not like it was before. They’ll never get back to the way it was because something happened to their relationship which was Not Natural. And you never come back from something like that.
It was during that time that I went off the rails in a big way. I had just turned fourteen and over those few months I went nuts. Crazy. I shouldn’t have been like that – most people in that situation would be relieved that their life was back on track. But not me. For some stupid adolescent reason, I wanted revenge. I wanted my parents to go through the hell that I went through. I know that sounds ridiculous, and I don’t know why I reacted so irrationally, but that’s what happened. I wish I could have been stronger but I wasn’t. I am trying to change that now though.
I used to stay out late, get drunk, smoke cannabis in my bedroom, misbehave in school, the lot. I really was a little bastard. On one occasion an eminent doctor, and father of one of my friends, had to take me home in the back of his minivan (people carrier – we call them minivans because that’s what the American kids in school call them) because I got out of my skull on vodka in his basement. My parents were horrified and were tearing their hair out. They kept telling me that I had problems but I didn’t listen. Then I did something bad. I did something very, very bad, my B
ad Thing, which I will never forget but won’t go into here. Many people still remember it because old people have difficulty forgiving, but I don’t think I deserve my reputation as a hell-raiser because I try to be a good boy nowadays, I really do. Probably the worst thing about my Bad Thing was that it didn’t stop me. I had been so angry at the time that the incident hadn’t made me see the light. I carried on the way I was, getting lower and lower.
But there’s always a turning point eventually, and for me it was something awful I did to Toby, my little brother. I told him that I’d take him into the city to visit the cinema and have lunch. We had done it once before and he’d really loved it, being out with his older brother. We had taken the train, had breakfast, walked around, gone to the museum to kill time (he loved that), had lunch, and gone to the cinema. I have to admit that it was a brilliant day. So Tobe was really looking forward to this next trip. Saturday morning came and he was banging on my door at nine o’clock. As you know, I have a lock on my door and there was no way in hell I was getting up. It was too early and I was hungover. At fourteen. He kept knocking. I knew that he was waiting on the other side even though he didn’t say anything, he just kept knocking. Toby never shouts through doors, or through walls. If he wants to communicate with somebody in another room he’ll get up and go and speak to them. He’s like a civilized gent, you know? So he kept knocking, never louder, never longer. He knocked five times every two minutes for – guess how long. Nearly an hour. I finally crawled out of bed at around noon to answer a phone call from one of my friends.
My mother didn’t say anything to me at first, just gave me a laser glare.
‘Are you going to take your brother into the city?’ she said eventually and reproachfully, the phone held limply in her hand.
‘Get off my back,’ I said. ‘I’m going out with my friends. I can’t take him. You go.’
‘You’ve let him down again. I don’t know why he loves you so much,’ she hissed.
‘Gimme the phone.’
Anyway I took the call and went through to the kitchen where Toby was sat at the table drawing one of his pictures (he really does spend most of his time there, I’m not stylizing). And that was the moment that everything changed for me. Seeing him in the kitchen sat at the table like he hadn’t had his dreams shattered because of his big brother who he idolized was heart-breaking. I had shattered his dreams and I’ll tell you how I know this. Because the stupid little idiot was wearing a shirt and tie! And he was eight! He was looking forward to the trip so much that he had put on a shirt and tie. He’d slicked his hair across his forehead with water and I’ll tell you now that my heart ached. I still didn’t take him into town because I would have lost too much face, but after that I was a different person. All because of Tobe the old-man Poet Laureate.
But enough of my past. Let’s get on with the show, right?
The next day, Matthew came over to my house to play some computer golf.
Matthew and I had known each other since we were three. Our mothers are good friends and we had spent a lot of time together in our childhood. He’s a solid chap, with good grades and a pretty girlfriend – an all-round nice guy. He’s basically a much better person than me because he doesn’t have the bad thoughts in his head that I have. At least I don’t think he does. He’s just a really good person.
I’ll tell you a funny story about how we became friends. I was a very shy toddler. Throughout the first year of school, even though I could speak fluently, I didn’t say a word. I don’t know why, I just didn’t. So because I didn’t speak, I didn’t really have any friends. Until one day, that is. I remember it quite clearly. I was walking back to the classroom after playtime and suddenly Matthew accidentally fell into step by my side. We were both walking at the same pace and it was quite awkward. If I sped up he sped up and if I slowed down he slowed down, like our brains were connected. Then, all of a sudden . . . we were holding hands! We just started holding hands. Now I think back on it, it was hilarious.
Anyway, it was sunny outside and the sky was blue. I felt a little guilty being inside when it was such a nice day. I was glad Matthew had come over though because I wanted to talk to him. He was sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed and I was lying on my duvet, on my stomach. This had been the seating arrangement for computer games since I’d first known him. When I went to his house it was exactly the same, apart from I was on the floor and he was on his bed.
‘What do you think of Freddy?’ I said.
His face was blank, engrossed in the screen.
‘Man’s a hero.’
‘I’m serious.’
The little golf man on the screen putted his ball but just missed on the right, because Matthew doesn’t understand the idea of tilting greens and hits it directly at the hole every time.
‘I liked what he said by the lake.’
‘Yeah.’
He lined up his next putt. ‘But it’s never going to happen. I’m going to university to do engineering and that’s that. There’s no way my parents would let me leave school to go and live in the woods.’
I laughed inwardly at how the conversation had been bent around inside his head. But what he was saying made sense, I guess. It was a bit of a dream.
‘Jenny kept talking about it on the way home though,’ he said. ‘You know what she’s like. She can’t wait until she doesn’t have to go to school any more. She hates it. Do you know that she gets so stressed about school that she gets sick? I mean, her parents are so strict that she’s simply not allowed to fail. My parents are bad, but hers . . . get in the hole!’ His golf man was lifting the ball out of the cup and throwing his cap in the air.
‘Nice one, Matthew,’ I said. ‘A nine.’
‘I’m going into the city with her this afternoon. And the Californian Girls.’
‘Oh God,’ I moaned. And then added, ‘Can I come?’
I love the city on a Saturday afternoon. It’s always alive with energy; people going about their lives, buying things and making themselves feel good. The glass is shiny and the lights lift my spirits. It’s like nothing’s real anywhere but it’s good fake, not bad.
Jenny spent most of the afternoon snapping away happily at passers-by with her camera. She loved photography. She was really artistic. And when she showed you her photos they were always excellent, not the run-of-the-mill photos that all girls took. Some of her pictures were on display outside the art department, and she loved that.
There was something vaguely sexy about the way she adjusted the focus on the lens between her middle finger and thumb. Her lithe forearms were working in perfect harmony with the skeleton of her hand – all cartilage and muscles working synchronously like a machine.
She was really pretty in a cute, Californian way. She wasn’t like Clare. Jenny had blonde hair and a tan, and whilst Clare had sharp features (yuk, what a thing to say), Jenny’s nose and cheeks were more roundy and smoothed. Jenny wasn’t like most of the other Americans, who had a tendency to act adult-like, which came out as plain embarrassing.
One of the Californian Girls started telling us about a party that she had been invited to. Some of the older American kids who were doing their baccalaureates (which are internationally recognized examinations that our school does instead of the lesser A levels), had booked out the cricket pavilion and were planning on having a Halloween party. It sounded like a great idea.
‘I hope Freddy will be there,’ said one of the girls, the only one with brown hair.
‘Yeah, me too,’ I said. ‘He’s so handsome it’s obscene.’
She looked at me in genuine disgust.
I felt I needed to explain. ‘I’m only joking.’
‘You can never tell with you. You’re weird.’
‘No I’m not.’ The way she said it was so cold it hurt a little and I instantly lost all respect for her because doing that was easier than getting upset.
‘Yes you are.’
‘He’s not weird, he’s special,’ chirp
ed Matthew.
‘Thank you, Matthew.’ I considered storming off, getting some drama into the scene, but thought better of it because they wouldn’t get it. ‘Why call me weird?’ I said to the girl, by this time genuinely offended. I thought for a second that I was going to start crying.
‘Why did you say you think Freddy’s handsome?’
‘Charlotte,’ said Jenny in a high voice. ‘Leave Richie alone.’
‘I was making a joke,’ I said.
‘Oh yeah? What joke?’
‘You know. Like I was gay.’
‘And what’s wrong with being gay?’ She made one of those American faces.
I sighed. ‘Nothing. It’s just – it’s funny.’
‘I don’t think being gay’s funny.’
I couldn’t believe this. ‘No, nor me.’
‘You’re homophobic. That’s great, Matty, you’ve got a great best friend.’
‘Yeah,’ I said quickly. ‘He has. Actually.’
The other Californian Girls were loving the completely uncalled-for attack. I wasn’t really used to people having a go at me and I could feel myself blushing.
‘I was being facetious. If you even know what that means.’
You know what? There’s nothing worse than somebody who thinks they’re more intelligent than they are. I was getting angry, but not like I was when I was fourteen and went a bit nuts. Just normal angry. I paused, shaking a little bit. I hate the way I let people get to me.
‘You know what?’ I said, pointing at her. ‘I wish you were gay. Then you could go fuck yourself.’ That was too good not to storm off. So I did.