Invisible Tears

by Abigail Lawrence

  Alex was sleeping in the room right next to me, and I certainly didn’t want him woken up. He was getting a bit of a reputation as a hard nut. You didn’t mess with Alex and if you did, you thought about it twice the next time. I would go out to mod gigs and Alex would warn guys off me. He was getting pretty boring to be around spoiling the attention I was getting. But he liked Dave and they started to become good friends. Mods liked to hang around Alex because he was cool. He dressed to impress and was never short of a girlfriend. He had a coolness about him people on the mod scene respected.

  But because he would cramp my style, I started going out less and less with Alex and more and more on my own. We started growing apart. I was getting fed up taking the blame for him anyhow, alcohol, fags, phone bills. I always accepted the blame and said it was me. Maybe that’s why I felt totally unwanted. I was forcing Dad and Maggie to dislike me and I didn’t even realise it.

  I was pissed at Alex stealing my friends. Why can’t he find his own damn friends? I wondered. Why’s he stealing mine? I was very jealous of the way Dad and Maggie treated Alex. I‘m the hero, or is it the martyr? At least that was how Alex should have seen it. The way he repaid me was by cramping my style. Thanks Bro!

  Chapter 13

  “You’re just a slut!” Maggie shouted with her Welsh accent. She always sounded broad Welsh when she was angry.

  “For fuck sake, it wasn’t my fault. We had to stop for an accident,” I tried to explain. I was twenty-five minutes late.

  In a shrill laugh she threw at me, “Do you honestly think I would believe anything that came out of your dirty mouth? You wouldn’t know the truth if it smacked you between the eyes.” She sounded like she wanted an argument, and it began to get more and more heated.

  I heard Dave ride off. Otherwise I would have run after him and jumped on the back of his scooter. Instead I had to stand there and face the music. Ironically, we actually did witness a car accident and waited until the ambulance and police arrived.

  “All you have to do is call the police, about the accident.”

  “Sure,” she said, “based on your word?”

  She refused to listen. She never listened to me. Now, if it was Alex, he could say the moon was made out of cheese and she would believe him. As much as I tried to persuade her to ring the police she would only call me names. I was fuming inside and I saw red. We had done our best to get home on time. For once it wasn’t my fault, but I was getting spoken to like I was a piece of shit.

  “You’re just a whore,” she dug deeper, trying to hurt me and succeeding.

  Before I realised what was happening, I completely lost it. My brain exploded! I threw myself at her with fists flying, hitting her over and over. Who does she think she is? She’s not my mother! All she was to me was another bit of fluff Dad brought home and dumped on us. She was dad’s new flavour of the month. He always expected us to accept our new mother. Well, Alex might be okay with it, but I wasn’t.

  “You’re not my Mother! Who do you think you are trying to tell me what to do? Just fucking leave me alone!” I yelled. She stayed in the kitchen whilst I was throwing a tantrum, trying to calm me down. She had pushed me too far this time.

  I reached my limit and all self control was gone. I ran upstairs to my room and began to panic. What did I do? I flung myself face-first beating my pillow senseless. Before I knew it I had fallen asleep, and it was morning, a new day.

  Inside I knew I had done wrong. Poor Maggie had always tried her best, but she made it plain she didn’t like me, and the feeling was mutual. People would feel sorry for her when she told of how the rebellious teen was wrecking her life.

  If only she knew what I’ve been through, I thought. She has no concept of having a life wrecked. She should step into my shoes for a day.

  Dad walked in the door on Friday night, as usual. Maggie had already told him what happened on the telephone. He walked straight up to me and smacked me around the face. My cheek burned as I was gobsmacked, literally! Dad had never hit me before, ever! I knew he was angry. He also made it clear that if he was forced to choose between Maggie and me, I would be the loser.

  It wasn’t nice knowing where I stood, knowing he would choose his latest bit of stuff over his daughter. It was painful, too painful. I was in bits inside, the only bit of stability I had was knowing my dad loved me. Now I just felt like a burden and a hindrance. I suppose it should have been obvious, but I thought I was daddy’s little girl. My mind reeled. Where did I go wrong?

  It was just a matter of time. As soon as I was old enough, I’d be gone. I won’t bother him anymore, I thought. I felt I wouldn’t have been with him at all if his family hadn’t bullied him into it. That thought hurt. I began to stay away weekends more often than not, but in order to feed my habits I needed funds. So I stole more of Maggie’s money and personal stuff to sell. I would also go into town and steal whatever I could. Naturally, I got caught stealing a few times but always managed to turn on the crocodile tears, flutter my eyelashes, and the managers would let me go on a promise not to do it again.

  One Monday afternoon though, the guy in the pawn shop was giving me a weird look while examining the rings. He had never complained or questioned me before, but this time I had a weird feeling. My face started to flush red-hot. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it throughout my whole body. Does he know they’re stolen? How can he tell?

  He looked carefully at the wedding band. Straining to read the inscription he put a magnifying glass over it. I was so stupid, I didn’t even know there was a date and initials inside.

  “You’ll not get much for this, it’s marked.” He glanced over in my direction and then nodded towards his office. “I just need to go and weigh it, I won’t be long,” he murmured as he walked away.

  He was a tall man, really thin. His shirtsleeves were rolled up exposing black, hairy arms with a ship tattoo on his right forearm. Maybe he was a sailor, I thought. His face was long and his features sharp. He had high cheek bones and dark brown eyes, drooping in a tired look.

  He was taking longer than usual and I felt uncomfortable alone in the pawn shop. Thinking how easy it would be to steal stuff, I thought, I could be rich, all this gold and diamonds! There were glass cabinets all around the shop, some with jewellery inside and other cabinets with ornaments. The counter had watches and bracelets under a glass shelf on one side of the till, and an earring case on the other.

  I looked around to see if there were any two way mirrors or anything that would give me away. I was about to grab some stuff when I saw a police car draw up. Adrenalin started to pump as I stared at the front door wide-eyed. I had been caught red handed trying to sell stolen goods. I looked around quickly to see if there was another exit. Nothing, I resigned myself to being caught.

  The man walked back out of his office and looked straight at me. I could see the pity and sorrow in his eyes, but he didn’t say a word, just opened the door to the police. He explained what had happened and then showed the young policeman my stuff. Why don’t I run? I could have so easily gotten away. For some reason though, I was frozen in place. Shocked maybe that I had been grassed on, maybe I wanted to be caught.

  The policeman was quite nice to me. He guided me into his car with a hand on my arm. His partner made sure I didn’t hit my head on the door-frame getting in as we set off for the Police station. I remember thinking how young the policemen were and that I was dating guys not much younger. Looking out the window, I wondered if anyone saw me. I remember thinking it was clever, and how I felt proud to be in a police car again. It was considered something to boast about within my circle of friends.

  The officer at the front desk was no stranger. I had been visiting the police station for several months now, usually for stealing, a few times for being in a stolen car and occasionally for fighting. We were becoming familiar to the extent I knew them by first names. In hindsight though, they were just being friendly.

  I looked around the cold waiting area at
the benches bolted down to the Parquet flooring and the posters on the wall. “Wanted, information on the whereabouts of . . .” There were lots of different posters from missing pets or lost children. I thought, How long will it be before I’m posted on the wall of fame?

  Of course, I knew it wasn’t really clever, but it didn’t put me off stealing or fighting. I knew the cells well. I’d been there often enough lately, even signed my own name and dated it, scratching it on the wall with the buckle off my cardigan.

  The officer bought me a sandwich and a drink and told me I’d pushed things too far this time. Anyone would think I had robbed a bank the way they were carrying on.

  “Getting charged?” I screamed. “Charged for what?”

  I knew it was serious but I didn’t realise or particularly care what “getting charged” was before then. I could feel my blood boil. I started screaming at the police, “Let me go!” and, “Ring my dad!” I tried the cell door but it was locked. At that point I felt like I had come to the end of the line. I had gotten away with far too much and now I had to pay.

  “Your parents aren’t interested,” the policeman said. He looked pleased. His lip curled at the corner with a small smile forming under his moustache. Funny, I thought, all the police seem to have moustaches? No one had ever shut me up as quickly as that before.

  “We need to go over your statement again before Court,” he said calmly. He motioned towards the door and led the way to the interview room.

  “Court? Fuck!” I mumbled. I really had pushed it this time.

  “What do you mean not interested,” I said with a nervous laugh. I walked behind him to the interview room. I thought they were maybe trying to teach me a lesson the hard way, but a part of me sensed he was telling the truth. I didn’t argue but needed clarification.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve gone too far young lady, trying to sell your mum’s wedding ring.”

  “Oh my god!” I gasped. “I didn’t realise it was a wedding ring, really I didn’t.” Okay, I thought, I can be a bitch but I’m not that bad, am I?

  Albert came into see me at the Police station. He was a Social Worker. He explained that because I was only 15, I needed looking after. He explained how due to my destructive behaviour, my family had given up on me.

  “Given up?” I repeated.

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “Well, I gave up on them years ago. It’s no big deal to me.” Inside, my guts were killing me, churning. I was genuinely frightened. Did they really not want me anymore? I wasn’t too surprised after hearing dad say he would choose Maggie. Well who can blame them?

  I had become a rebel, and no one wants a rebel. In fact even before I was a rebel, I didn’t think I mattered. As I got older I realised more and more how people around me just wanted to use me or hurt me. I realised then I had no one, no one I could trust, not one person on Earth I could turn to.

  I went through my mental list of friends. Who is important to me? When I thought about it only two or three actually came to mind.

  I sat in the interview room wondering what was going to happen to me. And, where the hell is Dave? What did they tell him? He was supposed to pick me up after school on his scooter. He was probably the only person who cared about me. I loved it when he collected me from school. Kids would stand and watch as I hitched my miniskirt up high and slid onto the back of his scooter. I would hold on to the back of the pillion seat, feeling totally cool and important as he pulled off, making sure he didn’t rush too much, so that everyone would get an eye-full.

  I thought back to the night before last when we walked through the cricket ground and had the bright idea to stay out the night. We broke into the cricket pavilion. It wasn’t hard as the wood was old and tired. It only took one firm shove and we were in.

  The place smelt of mould. I don’t think it had been used for a while. There were pictures around the walls of teams of cricketers proudly holding trophies. In the corner of the room was a glass trophy cabinet and it was locked. I turned and walked towards another room. Exciting, I thought. Wonder what’s behind the next door? It was a kitchen complete with cooker. I fiddled with the knobs but nothing worked. It led into another room with a couch. I could feel the carpet starting to squelch under my feet. No wonder no one was using this place, it was leaky. It stank of mould and damp, but it was fun investigating.

  “Let’s sleep here tonight.” I giggled at Dave throwing myself down on the sofa. At least it’s dry, I thought, having a good feel of it.

  “You’re kidding.” He did not look amused. “Here? In this shit hole?”

  “Oh go on,” I pleaded, “You know you want to.”

  I tried being sexy but it was hard when the place stank of mould and the wallpaper was on its way down, peeling in some places and bubbling in others with a black patch growing up the walls. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist my charms. It was getting late and dark and it was hard to see anything. Luckily no one had seen us break in.

  “Let’s get some food and come back here,” he suggested. I knew he couldn’t ever say no when a promise of sex was on offer.

  Fish and chips filled the room with a different smell, a nice one. If you couldn’t see you might have guessed it was actually home. We lay on the couch eating our dinner. Dave would probably get in trouble with the army again. I was always getting him in trouble encouraging him to stay out, making him late for his duties. He grabbed me closer and gave me a kiss, his tongue searching in my mouth. I could taste the mints he had eaten after the fish.

  I knew he loved me, he told me so. Unzipping his trousers he gently pushed my head down. I knew what to do, I had done it plenty of times with Uncle Joe. I never said no. I went into my machine mode and just got on with it. There was never any enjoyment in it, even though I knew he liked it. I suppose I did it to keep him happy. It seemed to work. He pushed me down onto my stomach and put his dick inside me from behind. I don’t think he cared if I enjoyed it. We did it, then it was done, nothing major. I couldn’t see his face, all I could do was go to my place until it was over. It was nothing memorable.

  It rained that night. I heard drips all night long coming in the building and splashing on the floor. If they condemned this place, I wondered, why haven’t they taken the trophies out of the cabinet? If I had won them, I would care more than they did.

  We woke up early to birds singing, both of us with frozen fingers and toes. I snuggled into Dave for warmth but he jumped in shock with my ice cold fingers. He shot off the couch obviously not in a very good mood. I’d waken him up. I huffed around and childishly stormed out of the cricket pavilion. Stuff him, he can get lost for all I care. I had things to do, and I didn’t have time for arguing.

  The policewoman interrupted my daydream. “Here, eat this,” she said.

  She had bought me a bacon sandwich. They kept me there another day saying I couldn’t leave until I had been to Court. Albert arrived carrying a bag of bits he had been handed by Maggie outside the Police station. The bag contained a change of clothes, black ski pants and a black and white checked sleeveless top and my makeup bag. What a blessing! I spent ages in the toilet, getting dressed and re-doing my backcombed bob and my liquid black bitch lines, my trademark. Finishing off with black clip-on button earrings, I was ready for anything.

  I was feeling quite human when we left for Court. The Court building was not far from the Police station and was accessible by an underground passageway. We went that way because it led straight off of the cells area. It took us only five minutes to walk there. I was escorted by two policemen and my social worker, Albert. I remember not being very nervous, though I did wonder when someone was going to jump around a corner and shout, “Surprise!”

  Part of me wished someone would, just to cheer everyone up, but it never arrived. This was no joke, soon enough it all started to feel very real indeed. The tunnel stretched on for what seemed miles, the walls looked moist with condensation and, although the brick
s had been painted cream, you still knew you were underground. There was a cold draft too. I wondered if I would ever see daylight again.

  “Okay, okay, I have learnt my lesson, now please just take me home.” I pulled at Albert’s jacket as we walked up the stairs into the Court.

  “Sorry love, it’s not up to me. I’m just here to look after you,” he said in his soft Welsh accent. It was the first time I realised he was Welsh. He was such a lovely man, far too nice for this job.

  The Clerk of the Court sat at a desk by the main entrance. He had a list of names. Mine was third on the list, Albert checked me in. It told him who I was and where I had to be at what time.

  He directed Albert to a side room. I was taken into a small room with closed blinds. I didn’t have a clue what was going on. There were a lot of comings and goings, people dressed in suits all lecturing me and telling me to just admit that I had done wrong.

  “It would be a lot less painful in the long run,” they suggested. Sitting alone in the room, I was bored to tears thinking about Claire again and remembering a few days back when we met up.

  We had arranged to go horse riding up the valley. She lived nearby and could see the horses from her window. We didn’t know who they belonged to, but it really didn’t matter. I borrowed some of Claire’s clothes explaining how I had stayed with a friend and hadn’t been home to change. I think she knew it wasn’t the truth, but she didn’t question me. Claire was a bit like me in some respects; she rebelled a lot and knew not to give me an earache. She was similar in size, but not very graceful, very butch in her mannerisms. She always had her bleach-blonde hair cut short and didn’t wear much makeup.

  The walk up the valley was hard. It was so steep my calves were burning. The thought of riding kept us going though, giggling and laughing all the way. We climbed the fence and caught the first two horses in the field. They were so friendly and just walked right up to us wanting to be petted. With head collars made of bits of rope, we lead them to a nearby fence, climbed on their backs, and off we went.