Out of Heart

by Irfan Master

  ‘Good,’ she replied, beaming. ‘That’s how it should be. I love his work and I think his ability to break down and rebuild his work time and time again will see him become a true artist. But. Exams don’t work like that. They have structures and forms. Adam doesn’t like working to those constraints. He pointedly ignores them. As good as his work is, he might not pass the art exam.’

  William put his hand on Adam’s shoulder and nodded. ‘He sees the world in a unique way. His drawings astound me. I think it’s important he draws the way he sees the world. Come what may.’

  The little creases around Mrs Matheson’s eyes deepened and she laughed. ‘Well, yes, exactly! His talent will out no matter what, but I do wish he could make it to art school or something similar. He would do well.’

  ‘He’ll always be making art, it’s in his nature, but the reality is that his mum needs help with the house. There isn’t enough money. There’s never enough. Art takes a back seat.’

  ‘I understand, but I’ll be keeping an eye on Adam. We’re going to make sure his talent isn’t wasted.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said William offering his right hand and covering Miss Matheson’s hand with his left.

  He felt a tug on his shirt and turned to Adam.

  ‘Adam has something to give you,’ said William, smiling at Adam’s shyness.

  ‘Don’t wanna embarrass you, miss. It’s a drawing,’ said Adam, and quickly followed William out and away.

  Mrs Matheson looked at the torn-off piece of paper and smiled, the deep furrows near her eyes creasing in pleasure as with great care she slipped the paper into her favourite book, pressing it closed.

  William reflected on the evening as he walked with Adam though the quiet back streets. He realised that accompanying Adam to his parent–teacher evening was the first thing he’d done in a very long time that mattered, that made him feel that he was more than just a little cog, feel as if he was the wheel at the centre of the movement. He looked across at Adam as he trudged alongside him, hood up, head down, shoulders drooped. William knew Adam carried such a weight. Of violence and of loss. He wanted to reach out to him, and say the right words in the right order so that everything would be right again.

  ‘You know, they all said the way you’re going, you’ve got no chance …’

  Adam smiled but his face was wearing a grim expression. ‘I told you they would say that.’

  ‘But I don’t believe it,’ replied William firmly.

  ‘What’s the point though, William? However hard you try – people still die, get sick, leave, hurt you or let you down. So I can sketch a bit. So what? My dad walked out on us, my mum can barely look at me without seeing him, my sister can’t speak, my Dadda lived in his own head and then died, and then there’s you. I mean, what’s anybody supposed to do with that?’

  William looked away, deflated, buffeted by Adam’s anguish. Adam saw his stricken face.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying …’

  ‘It’s OK, I understand, I get it.’

  Adam hunched his shoulders.

  ‘It’s not you, I just feel all over the place. I can’t explain it, but I could probably draw it for you …’

  ‘I’d like that, Adam, I really wou—’

  ‘Oi!’

  Adam heard a shout behind him and turned to see a group of boys approaching. They had their hoods up, but Adam recognised the tallest figure as Faze.

  ‘All right,’ said Faze, nodding.

  One of the other boys pointed at William and sniggered. ‘This the paedo?’ he said, and the group broke out into short, sharp snorts of laughter.

  Faze stood to the side, hands in his pockets. Adam looked at Faze and then at each boy in turn. He signalled with his head to William and made to leave.

  ‘Oi! Where you going, paedo? We heard you’ve got a nasty scar on your chest. We want to see it. Gis a look.’

  Adam turned then, his anger rising to the surface. Felt his frustration grinding his teeth, his heartbeat quicken.

  ‘Why don’t you just fuck off? His scar’s got nothing to do with you.’

  The boy said something to his mates to make them laugh again, then turned suddenly and pushed Adam, making him stumble. Faze looked as if he would intervene, but hung back even so, hood covering his face.

  ‘Got a big mouth for a paedo-lover, haven’t ya? Let’s have a look. You been knifed, innit? We just wanna look,’ the boy said, taking a step towards William, who stood stock still, panicked. Adam moved in front of William and pushed the boy back into his friends, who grabbed Adam and pulled him away. The remaining boy moved towards William, who was breathing heavily now and sweating.

  ‘What’s wrong with you? Why you all sweaty for? Let’s take a look,’ he said, grabbing at William’s shirt.

  William could only feebly swat the boy’s hand away as he struggled to breathe, but that did little to stop him coming on. Adam shouted and fought but he was now pinned down. Faze had still not moved and was now looking at his feet. The boy yanked hard at William’s shirt. The sound of material ripping and buttons popping made Adam stop struggling as a patch of shirt came away in the boy’s hand. In front of them all stood William with his shirt hanging in tatters. There was silence as they all stared at the scar running down William’s chest. It was purple and raised, the skin angry at the memory of the scalpel and hands that had opened it. The boys stared in disbelief at the brutal scar, the shock freezing them in place.

  Adam pulled free of the other boys and stood up. The anger had subsided and all that remained were shock and embarrassment. Faze was the first to move. Grabbing the boy who had ripped William’s shirt, he shoved him away from William.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said to the others without looking back.

  Adam watched them go, deflated as all the nervous energy left his body.

  William had made no move to cover up.

  ‘They tell you that they’re going to open you up,’ William said. ‘But you never expect that means slicing you in half.’

  ‘It looks so vicious,’ replied Adam, unable to tear his eyes from William’s chest.

  ‘At least this scar is visible and it’ll heal,’ replied William, zipping up his jacket.

  Adam pulled down his hood and stared at William. ‘Earlier, when I was talking, I didn’t mean you were the problem. You’ve helped us, made us heal a little. It’s just that there’s a lot going on,’ he said.

  ‘I know that. This is all new to me too. Living and caring. I didn’t do too much of those before.’

  Adam slipped in beside William and, using his arm to support William’s elbow, he walked with him along the dark streets, each retreating into the silent land of their thoughts as the mist formed around them.

  Adam slapped the mop onto the floor. The sloshing and swirling made a satisfying sound. After half an hour, he stood back and looked at his work. The floor was definitely cleaner, but no amount of scrubbing could erase some of the bloody marks. He looked around the empty shop. His ears picked up the constant hum of the freezers and the strip lighting, reminding him of something. Then a rap on the front door startled him and dislodged the thought from his head. William was standing outside peering in. Adam ushered him in and quickly shut the door behind him.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked, looking William up and down.

  ‘Yeah. You?’ replied William, doing the same.

  Since the attack by the boys in the street, another shared trauma, they had become close. Adam thought of all that bound them now. Sadness, grief, pain, violence. These things had brought William to them. Strangely, an image of his maths teacher popped into his head.

  ‘You know, Adam, everything has a formula. Even abstract things like love. The formula is the combination that unlocks the safe. Sometimes the wheel is turned forward, sometimes backwards, sometimes it comes back to the start and then, just like that, you hear a click and the door opens. That’s what a formula is: different doors opening.’

 
Adam nodded to himself. The formula of his life was a jumble and he was finding it difficult to solve. Mrs Green’s voice rang out in his head once more.

  ‘You know, Adam, you’re not bad at maths; in fact you’re better than average. Your challenge is, you’re not so good at showing me how you did it. You’re not so good at the working out.’

  ‘But I get the marks for the correct answer, right?’

  ‘Yes, of course. If the answer is correct. But if it’s not, you get none of the marks if you don’t show your workings. And sometimes the working it out is more interesting than the end result. Do you understand?’

  ‘What you thinking about?’ asked William, looking over at Adam.

  ‘Numbers, formulas, equations.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Work anything out?’ William smiled to himself.

  After a pause, Adam shook his head and laughed.

  ‘Oh yeah, I get it. You’re funnier than you used to be. They replaced your heart, but not your funny bone,’ replied Adam, a little grin pulling at his lips.

  Smiling at William, Adam felt calm once again. William’s presence secured him, making him feel anchored, and although Adam did still disappear into the silent land, he did so much less when William was around.

  ‘Look, I’m glad you came anyway. I wanted to show you something. I managed to get one of the guys at the abattoir to sort it for me … Anyway, if you think it’s stupid, you can just say so.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked William, sitting up on his stool.

  Adam opened the door to the freezer room and disappeared, emerging a few minutes later with a wrapped and bloody parcel. He placed the parcel onto the chopping board and slowly unwrapped it, revealing a heart – large, bloody and no longer beating.

  William gasped and recoiled. ‘I’m sorry, I just thought you might be interested in seeing one,’ said Adam worriedly.

  ‘No, no, it’s OK,’ replied William, gathering himself. ‘I … I just wasn’t expecting it.’

  Leaning over the bloodstained chopping board, both Adam and William stared at the organ in front of them.

  ‘It’s a sheep’s heart. I read somewhere that it’s the closest thing to a human heart, only bigger,’ whispered Adam.

  ‘It’s so ugly,’ observed William.

  ‘Yeah, but there’s something about it that makes it …’

  ‘Powerful.’

  ‘Yeah. Powerful like an engine in a car. So many different valves and arteries and filters. Pour blood in and it comes to life.’

  The heart lay there under the glare of the gently humming lights. Without realising it, William had his hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat. Visions of his heart being shocked into life flooded his brain.

  ‘This is what my old heart must have ended up like. Dead and discarded. Where do they all go, all the dead hearts?’ asked William, still clutching his chest.

  Wrapping up the parcel once more, Adam put it back in the freezer.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you. I just thought it might help somehow.’

  William moved away from the counter and sat back on the stool.

  ‘You know, in some strange way, it has. To see it like that. I know it for what it is now. An engine. Imperfect and prone to failing. Makes you realise some things are more important than physical things.’ As Adam and William left the shop, locking the door behind them, Adam realised what the constant sound of the humming freezers reminded him of. It was the tone of a flatline – the fatal sound that a heart was no longer beating.

  Adam looked over the crammed trains. He threw the spray can down onto his rucksack and smiled. He was done, finished. It had taken him months of scraped knees and elbows and a sore back, but he had never felt more alive than he was now, surrounded by darkness. Looking out, he saw the clouds breaking slowly to reveal flashes of violet and blue. Adam felt at a turning point. Then the euphoric feeling deserted him. He doubled over, hands on knees, feeling emotional and tired.

  ‘What you doing up there?’

  The familiar voice broke through the tiredness and spun Adam around. Standing at the foot of the train, with wild hair and flashing eyes, was Laila, chin jutting out and shoulders set back. Adam folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘I came to see you. As you have so many secrets and don’t like sharing, I thought I’d find out for myself.’

  ‘It wasn’t a secret, it was just … something I had to do.’

  ‘Oh. But in secret, right? One of those things boys do, right, in secret. See a man about a dog, or come to disused rail yards and spend hours on top of trains. Did you ever think I would like to know where you disappeared after school every day?’

  ‘Um …’

  ‘Did you ever think I would worry about you? Think you were in trouble?’

  ‘I was going to tell you … I wanted to. I just …’

  ‘Just forgot, or decided not to, or did your stupid boy thing of keeping it to yourself.’

  ‘You stopped talking to me. Started avoiding me, and took up with Faze. I didn’t know what to do. You chose him. It’s up to you.’

  Laila’s eyes flashed, a thunderous look clouded her face, and although the clouds were breaking overhead, it was her expression that forecast a storm.

  ‘Don’t you understand ANYTHING?! You don’t tell me anything that’s going on in your life. I know your Dadda has died, but that’s it. The rest is a big black hole. How am I supposed to be there for you if I don’t know what’s wrong? If I don’t know where you go. What you’re thinking. How? Faze … was around and talked to me. He was standing up for you. Don’t you get it? He told me about some of the things that had … happened to you when you were growing up. He said he liked you and he missed being friends with you, but his life was different now. He wished it could be like it was, but he knows you’re different. He stays away from you, because he doesn’t want to bring you down. Can’t you see?’

  Adam’s mind was spinning. ‘I just saw you two together and … then other things happened. I don’t know about anything. I feel closer to violence than happiness sometimes. And I feel so far from you.’

  Laila shook her head. ‘Don’t you see, Adam? I’m on your side. We all are.’

  Adam looked down at Laila. The distance between them was only a short drop, but it felt like a chasm. Adam stared up at the large estate towering above them. Laila had now sat down and was looking up at him.

  ‘Do you know anybody who lives in that block?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘Yeah, a cousin of mine lives up there, near the top. Saira.’

  Grinning, Adam hooked on his rucksack and climbed down from the train.

  ‘Perfect. Let’s go,’ he said, grabbing Laila’s arm and pulling her along.

  ‘Where?’ she replied, flustered.

  ‘I want to show you what I’ve been doing here these last few months,’ Adam replied, looking over his shoulder and smiling as they entered the block of flats.

  ‘Why can’t you show me from down here?’ asked Laila, pulling her hand out of Adam’s grasp.

  ‘Trust me, you’ll see why.’ Pressing the lift button, Adam waited. Nothing happened, Adam pressed again. Still nothing. Laila looked at him.

  ‘You know the lifts in these blocks are always broken …’

  Adam took a step towards the stairs.

  ‘What floor does she live on? We need to see out, and we can’t do that unless we’re in one of the flats that faces out onto the rail yard. Text her …’

  Laila texted her and waited. A few seconds later her phone buzzed and she nodded at Adam.

  ‘She’s in. It’s the twenty-fourth floor. Adam, can’t we just see it from down here …?’

  ‘No. You have to see it from up there. Come on.’ Adam took hold of her hand again and bounded up the stairs. As the floors went by, Adam spoke to Laila. He told her everything. About his father hurting them and then leaving them and now wanting to see him. About Farah and he
r silence and her love. About his mum and her coldness with him. About his grandfather and his distance from them. About William and the heart and washing the body and the funeral and the loan sharks and the police station and everything. By the time he had finished, Adam was shaking, fingers trembling. It was so much easier when he didn’t have to look at her. Looking into her eyes would undo him, so he paced up the stairs holding her hand tightly and telling her so many things. Things he had told no one else.

  Laila followed, scarcely breathing so as not to interrupt Adam as he talked. Each step became a sentence, each landing a paragraph and each floor a new chapter. The higher they went, the slower they climbed, each step beginning to hurt, just as each sentence was harder to say. As they lifted themselves out from the depths of the street and began to see glimpses of the violet sky, Adam’s voice broke a few times, but he climbed on, not daring to look back. Laila didn’t object, even though her calves were burning, even though each step was agony and even though all she wanted to do was gather Adam in her arms and hold him, high above the street, away from the gutter down below.

  Adam kept on talking, telling Laila everything, holding nothing back. The floors passed them by like horses on a carousel leaping up and down, but there was no music, just his voice echoing in the stairwell of the tower block. He knew she would be listening, he knew she would be upset and want to comfort him and he knew she would be hurting, having to climb up all this way, but what other way was there? He had to tell her and he had to show her.

  By the twenty-third floor, they were both sucking in lungfuls of air. Taking the last few steps before the twenty-fourth floor they dragged themselves into the corridor. Adam sat down and leaned against the cold grey wall, pulling his knees in. Laila sat cross-legged in front of him. Putting her hand on his knees, she shook them gently.

  ‘It’s not your fault. Any of it. You’re carrying it around with you like a rucksack full of heavy rocks. You walk like you’re carrying a big weight. Your head is always bent low, looking at the ground. But it’s not your fault. Lift up your head and look at me. It’s. Not. Your. Fault.’