Thief of Mind

by Ben Thomas

  “Toby, it’s just a mug. I’ll know better next time.” There won’t be a next time, I thought as I realised that along with my anxiety and agitation, anger could be added to the mix. “Come on, this feels a bit ridiculous.” He placed the other mug on the coffee table between our two seats and sat down, still smiling. “Toby, you are joking, aren’t you?”

  Swap the mug. Wash the mug.

  What am I doing? I’m a grown man and I’m arguing over my favourite mug with another grown man and I’m sat here in my dressing gown. I am a laughing stock.

  Yes, yes you are, and if you carry on Jez will tell everyone.

  “Yeah, of course I’m joking. It is a good mug though, eh?” It was time to concede as Jez took another sip from my mug.

  “Flipping heck, Toby, you had me going there. I was just about to swap mugs to keep the peace.”

  “Nah, that would be bonkers.”

  “Yes, perhaps.”

  For the next five minutes Jez talked to me about…erm…stuff. I’m not sure what he was talking about, I wasn’t really listening as I was having a competing conversation with him and he speaks louder than Jez:

  Do not drink from that mug. It’s not the safe mug; do not risk it.

  Come on, like Jez said, it’s just a mug.

  It’s not just a mug. It’s tainted. You know you can’t drink from it. You will be damned.

  I couldn’t not drink from it; Jez would think I was being pathetic and making a point. I picked up the mug and tentatively brought it towards my lips.

  DO NOT DRINK...you know what will happen.

  I moved the mug back onto its coaster. Jez had already finished his drink. I couldn’t leave the tea untouched, but I couldn’t drink from that mug. I was trapped. Damned if I did, embarrassed if I didn’t. This was the biggest deal there could be to me. This was why I hated being disturbed by strangers – you never knew what they’d do. You never knew how they’d trap you.

  There was nothing left for it but to take drastic action.

  “Have you seen my Schools’ Shield man of the match award, Jez?” I rudely interrupted whatever Jez had been talking about and pointed to the windowsill, where my prized possession proudly sat with a protective layer of dust. As Jez turned to look, I accidentally on purpose knocked over the imposter mug with my other hand. The lukewarm content cascaded over the table onto the floor.

  “Argh!” I yowled, faking surprise at the spillage.

  “Whoa! What happened there?” cried Jez, springing to his feet.

  “Not as safe with my hands as I was in my rugby days,” I said, scrambling to get some tissues to rescue the carpet.

  “Let me help.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it sorted.” I didn’t really want to risk damaging the carpet but it had to be done.

  “Well, let me make you another brew. You’d hardly touched that one.”

  “No! It’s fine Jez. Just sit down,” I snapped, “I’ve pretty much sorted it.” Sodden tissues congregated around me. “Right, done. Did you want a fresh one?”

  “No, I’m fine thanks.”

  “Right, won’t be a mo.” I reclaimed my mug and went into the kitchen to give it a good wash and make myself a well-earned cup of tea in my mug.

  He hadn’t been tormenting me about the forbidden words. Why? Well the thing is, he is consistent insomuch as he is always attacking or planning an attack, but he is also consistently inconsistent in that it’s not always the same methodology of attack. The times when he’s not attacking me with words he’s using other tried and trusted methods to unsettle me, such as making me check the gas is off, asking if I’m sure I’ve locked the door, accusing me of saying an insult out loud, questioning whether I smell bad, telling me my underpants are dirty, instructing me not to drink from any other mug in my house apart from my ‘Smiley Face’ mug. It’s only in my own house that I have to drink from a particular mug. I can drink from any mug or cup or glass outside of my home. I don’t have to carry the ‘Smiley’ mug around with me everywhere in case I need a drink. No, of course I don’t, because that would be mad.

  I went back into the living room with the reassuring mug of tea. “Sorry, Jez. You were saying?” Jez was looking at me with a wry smile on his face. “What?” My defences were immediately up.

  “I knew it!”

  “What?” I said more forcibly

  “I knew you deliberately knocked it over just so you didn’t have to drink from that mug, and you waited till I had finished mine so you could get your own mug back.”

  “Whatever, Jez.” I truculently turned my face away from him.

  “Toby, it’s obvious. A rugby player as good as you doesn’t clumsily fumble a cup of tea, even if you have been out of the game a while; and acting isn’t really your forte. Don’t go auditioning for any am-dram productions any time soon. I mean, ‘Oh, look at that behind you, Jez.’ And then a big arm knocks the drink over.” He paused and started subtly nodding his head, then said, “Toby, it’s okay. I think I know why you did it, and that’s why I came here today.”

  I turned back to him and glared. “Oh yeah? Go on then, Sherlock. What’s going on then?”

  Jez took his glasses off and rubbed the lenses with his handkerchief before putting them back on and looking me directly in the eye. “I want to help you, Toby.”

  I held his stare. “Help me with what?”

  “I’m worried about you. Jess is worried about you.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Jez, worried about what?”

  What do they think you’ve done? What have you done. They’ve been talking about you; they all have.

  He nervously took his glasses back off and immediately put them back on. “Gosh, this is difficult…How can I put it…I mean, I don’t want to interfere.”

  “Well you are interfering, but I don’t know what you are interfering about.”

  What does he know?

  “I’m worried that you might be…well, a little unwell.” Relief touched me. He knew I’d been off work ill. He just wanted to see if I was okay. Probably just wanted to practice his bedside manner.

  “Yes, I’ve been off work with a migraine but it’s not serious enough for Dr Jez to pay me a visit.”

  “Heh, heh.” Another fake laugh. “I’m not a doctor yet, Toby, but my training has enabled me to spot certain things…and I didn’t know you’ve been off work. And no, that doesn’t necessitate a visit from Dr Jez.” I deserved that.

  “Jez, no disrespect, but I really don’t know what you’re going on about.” I really didn’t know, but he was suggesting all manner of things.

  “Okay, well, erm, like I said, I don’t mean to interfere, and I know I’ve only just met you, but Jess and I have been talking…”

  “Oh, right!” I testily interposed, “I’m glad your relationship is so exciting that you feel the need to talk about me.” Attack is sometimes the best form of defence, but it would help if I knew what I was defending myself against.

  “Well of course Jess talks to me about you. She loves you and she’s worried about you. I was asking her about your rugby, why you don’t play anymore, and she explained that you just gave up and that you seem to have given up on most things…like your career, your friends…She thinks you might be depressed.”

  “Jez, I’m not depressed.” I wasn’t depressed.

  “She also said that sometimes she sees you acting a bit…erm…well...how do you say it? Odd? No, peculiar.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Jez. I think you really do need to work on your bedside manner.”

  What are you doing, you’ve insulted him now, you’ve hurt him. You’ve caused harm. You will be punished.

  “Sorry, Jez, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, it’s fine. I probably do need to work on it and I shouldn’t have used the word peculiar, but it’s just how thing
s appear to Jess. And I noticed things too, at dinner on Sunday. Well, I was looking for them, and they were subtle, but I did pick up on them. Such as you would go in and out of a room three or four times, and if you noticed someone watching you would just say you’d forgotten something. The way you picked up your knife and fork at dinner and put them down again, and picked them up again…and put them down again. During the rugby, two or three times you would rewind it to re-listen to what the commentator had said and then you would ask me and Mike to confirm what the commentator had been saying. When you took your jumper off, you put it back on before taking it off again. Often you would be tapping your chest…just like you’re doing now.”

  “I’m tapping my chest because, I’m sorry to say, I am getting a little irritated by these…well I don’t know what you would call them…accusations? Slurs? Does Jess even know you’re here?”

  “Yes, she does. But she doesn’t actually know what I’ve come to talk to you about. This is private, Toby. She told me about the secret knock and also warned me not drink from your favourite mug.”

  “But you still did!” What a cock.

  He looked at me, void of shame. “Yes, and I am sorry about that, but I wanted to see how you’d react. There was no way you were going to drink from the mug I gave you, was there? But why not?”

  “This is getting a bit embarrassing. I don’t know why you’re here and what you’re trying to prove but I think I might want you to leave.” I stood up and extended my arm in the direction of the front door.

  Jez ignored me. “Toby, I want to help you.”

  “Help with what?” My voice was now raised.

  “I, erm, think you may be struggling with…and, erm, lots of people are affected by it, erm, I think you may be struggling with a stress-related illness, like anxiety or, erm, maybe even OCD.”

  “OCD?” I cried out incredulously.

  Jez shifted in his seat. “Erm, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.”

  “Yes, I know what OCD is. Look around you, Jez.” I guided his gaze around my living room and kitchen, which though not as scruffy as Jess’ old student digs, certainly had the look of being lived in. “Does it look like I’m an OCD cleaning freak?”

  He kept his cool. “OCD is not specifically about cleaning and tidying, although I accept the common misconception. OCD manifests itself in all sorts of ways and I understand how debilitating it can be, especially when you’re trying to cope on your own.”

  I stared straight at Jez with a mixture of anger and confusion as he gave me his unsolicited opinion.

  What’s he accusing you of? He thinks you’re mad. He’ll tell everyone.

  “Toby, you look like you think I’m accusing you of something.”

  He can read your mind. He knows what you’re thinking. Don’t think evil about him. You want to sink your fingers into his eyes and tear them out, don’t you? Don’t think it; you’ll cause it. You want to smash his head against the wall. He’s heard you think that. You need to make sure he didn’t hear that.

  “Toby, are you okay?”

  Don’t speak. Don’t open your mouth. You’ll tell him you hope his cancer comes back. You’ve thought it now. You’ve caused his cancer to come back. YOU DID IT.

  “Stop!” I growled quietly at him.

  “Sorry, Toby, is this too much?”

  I was pacing about the living room with his voice going off like a siren in my mind, deafening me to Jez’s words.

  You need to check what he’s heard you think. YOU SAID IT OUT LOUD. YOU HOPE HIS CANCER COMES BACK.

  No, I don’t think that. How could Jez read my mind? I wouldn’t say that out loud.

  YOU HAVE, YOU HAVE, HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS WHAT YOU THINK.

  I inadvertently found myself staring intently at Jez, trying to read him. Had I said those terrible thoughts out loud? I didn’t think I had, but maybe I wouldn’t have heard them with his voice so loud in my head.

  You did, and now you’ve caused his cancer to come back. It’s growing in him, right now. Multiplying, because of you. He knows you’re evil. Don’t think the words. Don’t think death, don’t think Devil, don’t think demons. You have thought them. YOU HAVE CAUSED HIM TO DIE. IT’S YOUR FAULT. HE WILL DIE.

  The panic spread rapidly throughout my body. Starting at my feet I could feel its vicious march though my limbs, up into my chest, pillaging my lungs, throttling my heart and choking my throat. Sawing through my brain with a rusty blade.

  Blessed blessings bless me.

  I chanted in my mind over and over, helplessly trying to undo, or at least restrict, the harm I had caused Jez.

  “Sorry, what are you saying?” Jez’s words caused horror to join panic in my body. I had done it. I had said things out loud to Jez. I stopped pacing like a rabbit frozen in the headlights.

  “What…what did I say?” I muttered.

  Jez’s forehead was creased. “I wasn’t quite sure.”

  See, you did say it out loud. He knows your thoughts. YOU WANT TO KILL HIM.

  “I’m…I’m sorry Jez, I didn’t mean to say it. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Mean what, Toby?”

  “What I said to you. It was wrong…I’m…I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything to apologise about. I don’t think you were actually saying anything to me. It sounded like you were chanting the word blessings or something.” Jez had a neutral expression on his face.

  “Blessings? That’s it?”

  “Erm, yes.”

  “Blessings, just that? I didn’t say anything else?” Had I got away with it or was he bluffing.

  He did hear you.

  “Not that I heard. Why, what did you mean to say?”

  “So I definitely didn’t say anything else?”

  “Not that I know of.” Confusion was painted on Jez’s face.

  “I didn’t upset you?”

  You did upset him. You need to check that you didn’t upset him.

  “No, Toby. I thought that I might have been upsetting you. I just wanted to tell you that if you ever need to talk…”

  I cut him off. “So I didn’t say anything else?” I had to be sure.

  But what if you did?

  “No, you didn’t, Toby,” Jez said, calmly but emphatically.

  What if he’s just saying that?

  “Honestly?”

  Jez sighed. “Yes, honestly. Look, Toby, I really think you need help.”

  I hadn’t said anything. It was okay. I slumped back down in my chair at the same time as Jez leaned forward in his. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you are acting a bit peculiar.” Yes, yes I was. “Let me help you, Toby.”

  He thinks you’re mad. He’ll tell everyone.

  I needed to regain control of the situation. “Jez, I appreciate your concern but I’m fine, honestly. Maybe I’ve seemed a bit pre-occupied lately but, you know, there’s been a lot going on at work. Well actually, erm, I haven’t told Jess or my folks yet, but I got made redundant earlier this week. So, you know, I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  “Crikey, Toby. I’m sorry to hear that. That’s a tough break. Do you know what you’re going to do?”

  “Not really. I might take a bit of time out. I’ve got a little saved up which should last a little while. Seriously though Jez, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  There is. He thinks you’re mad. He knows you want his cancer to come back.

  No, it’s not true.

  I lifted my hand to my forehead and rubbed it hard. “I, erm, think I can feel my migraine coming back. Thanks for coming around, but I think I need to have a lie down.”

  “Have you got anything in to take for it? Do you want me to nip to the pharmacy for you?”

  “Please, Jez,” I said forcefully, but I hoped not offensively, “I just need to have a lie down.�
�

  “Okay, I understand. Listen, any time you want to talk, you can come to me – and I don’t mean in a sort of doctor/patient scenario, I mean as a friend – and anything we talked about would be in confidence.” Jez stood up and put his coat on. I had already started moving towards the front door ready to let him out.

  “Jez, it was nice to see you, and I’m fine, thanks.”

  Jez looked at me dubiously and opened his mouth to say something, but I could see he caught whatever it was he was about to say and simply said, “Well, okay. See you then, Toby.” And with that Dr Jez finished his house call.

  You’ve caused his cancer to come back. You’ve done it. He knows it. HE’LL TELL EVERYONE THAT YOU’RE EVIL AND MAD.

  I can’t cause him to get cancer; it’s impossible.

  But how can you be sure?

  I don’t want him to get cancer; I don’t think that. I am not a bad person.

  You did think that.

  I didn’t think that; you thought that. I didn’t say anything out loud and Jez can’t read my thoughts.

  What if he did?

  I checked with him, he told me I didn’t say anything.

  You don’t know that for certain.

  Jez is a good guy. He doesn’t think that I’m mad.

  He does. That’s why he came round. Mad and evil. He’ll tell everyone.

  I heard a door bang. I glanced through the curtains to see that Mrs Bradstone who lived next door had just left her house.

  She’ll have heard what you and Jez were talking about. She knows you’re evil and mad too. She’s off out to tell everyone she knows to avoid the weirdo next door.

  Ridiculous, ridiculous.

  You need to check. You need to ask her what she heard.

  I couldn’t go and ask her. What was I to say? “Oh hi, Mrs Bradstone. I’m not mad and evil, but I think you might have been eavesdropping, in the privacy of your own home, on me and my doctor discussing, in the privacy of my home, that I am in fact mad and evil”? What I did instead was go to the wall separating my home from the Jenkinsons’ (my neighbours on the other side) and pressed my ear against it. I could faintly hear voices, which I guessed were from the television. I could also hear a couple of bangs every so often. I couldn’t quite make out what the voices were saying; perhaps I could catch the odd word, but I was trying very hard to listen in and couldn’t readily discern what was being said. It was highly unlikely that either of my neighbours could have, or would have, heard anything.