by Ben Thomas
These were my rules now. This would be my life. This time he was going to realise that I controlled him.
15
Over the next few days I felt good and made progress. My new rules were being adhered to, certainly by me. He was grumbling about the rules, but so far he was being complicit. Bobby had texted me straight back to inform me that the first Bobitivity would begin the next day. He had called around the next morning dressed in a running vest and trainers, topped off with a sweatband on each wrist and on his head. Did I fail to mention the shorts? Well at first glance I missed them, but they were there, only they were the smallest and tightest shorts I think I had ever seen. Bobby didn’t strike me as a runner, so I thought maybe it was a fancy dress party he was taking me to but no, running it was. ‘Great way to de-stress and escape your worries,’ Bobby informed me. I hadn’t done much exercise in the last few years, but judging by Bobby’s appearance this first Bobitivity was likely to be a gentle jog.
It turned out there was nothing gentle about the jog. In fact, it turned out to be reasonably horrific. Bobby was super fit, well certainly by my standards. I couldn’t keep up with him. He would double back every couple of minutes to see that I hadn’t collapsed. Doubling back was quicker for him than waiting for me to catch up as I was that far behind. I was staggered by how unfit I was and I was also staggered by the number of horns that beeped in acknowledgement of Bobby’s running costume and his unique running style. At one point a group of lads in a boy racer car slowed right down and drove alongside Bobby for a short while, laughing and filming him on a phone as he bounded along. Running so far behind Bobby at least meant that I avoided the attention. On one break, I asked Bobby in between breaths whether the abuse bothered him.
“What abuse?”
“The horns and the wolf whistles you keep getting.”
“That’s not abuse. They love it, they’re inspired by a not-thin bloke getting out and getting fit. And the wolf whistles, well I think that’s obvious.” Bobby said with his trademark smile and I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. Either way, what I framed as abuse he framed as inspiration. He was super fit and I was the polar opposite; it was clear whose mindset was more beneficial.
My plan to be around people was progressing. Mum had messaged me back and we had arranged for me to go round for tea with the family on Thursday. And, oh yes, Helen texted to say that yes, she wanted to meet up. So we arranged to meet on the Wednesday night. Then she texted back the next day to cancel, but the following day she texted to arrange to meet on Friday night. I didn’t have too much experience with the opposite sex, but I understood enough about them to know that I understood nothing about them. These were mixed messages from Helen. But then again, this was consistent with the mixed messages that she had given me at the reunion.
The element of doubt as to whether she wanted to see me or not would normally have been an open goal to him, but the rules were in place and for the time being they were shackling him. He was not silent, he voiced his discontent. But the checks were kept to a maximum of three and the reading of my card neutralised the bad words. I decided to take a leaf out of Bobby’s book and act as if Helen did truly want to see me and, indeed, was excited by the prospect. Was I excited by the prospect? Well, yeah of course. Helen was looking good, and if she did like me in that way still, as I was determined to believe she did, then great. If not, then at least I would have rekindled another friendship and it would have served as more distraction and another step in me getting out there and living my life. I was beginning to like this positive thinking.
Bobby had prescribed running three times a week to me. He had explained in detail all of the benefits it had given him, and he was particularly keen to tell me of the positive effects on his libido. By Thursday night I had already hit his target of three runs a week. I had even bought some new trainers and running kit, though my shorts were more modest than Bobby’s and I decided to forego the sweatbands and chose a conventional t-shirt over a vest. Buying the running kit was a big achievement for me, and I was extra vigilant when it came to buying it. I took out my card and read my text as I walked into the shop, and as I chose my kit, and as I paid for them. The shop assistant probably looked at me a bit funny but I explained that I was old school and still used shopping lists. The shop assistant laughed at this but I sensed that he didn’t think I was joking and was laughing more in pity. Anyway, I got changed into my new gear as soon as I got home, again using the card before and after, and I went for a run in my contamination-free kit. Running was hard, very hard, but as much as it tired me out it evidently tired him out more, because I rarely heard from him during the running. Even if he was vocal I would struggle to give him air time as the fight for breath took priority.
On my way to Mum and Dad’s I reflected on the last couple of days and congratulated myself on how well I’d been doing. I felt like I was winning. Yes, he still jabbered away, but I think he was beginning to understand I had retaken the controls of my life. I just had to keep busy and stay disciplined. I thought I might start the process of looking for a new job, maybe as a trainee accountant as per the original plan.
Jess greeted me at the door with a look of surprise.
“What? Don’t you recognise your brother?”
“Yes, but you’re early!”
“No I’m not. You said seven and, oh look–” I made an extravagant display of looking at my watch. “–it’s, erm, seven o’clock.”
“I know, but we work on Toby time,” Jess said as she ushered me in.
“Toby time?”
“Yes, well, we always factor in you being at least forty-five minutes late. It makes sense as you’re never on time. Dinner’s not ready yet because you’re early.”
“But I’m here at the agreed time.”
“But not the agreed Toby time.”
I was aware that often I was late. I didn’t mean to be but sometimes the checks took longer than anticipated, and sometimes I had to go back home halfway to my destination to double check my door was locked or the gas was off or the taps were…well, you get the idea. But the fact that I was on time was proof that I had started to address my issues. Yes, the usual urges had been there to check, but the rule of three had been adhered to, and had allowed me to get here on time time, not just on Toby time time.
“Crikey, what are you doing here?” Dad made an over the top gasping sound.
“Well, I thought it might be nice to see my family.”
“Yes, but you’re a bit early.”
“I’m not early, I’m on time. I’ve turned over a new leaf. There’s no need for Toby time anymore.”
I strolled into the kitchen to see Mum.
“Toby! Lovely to see you,” she said. “Dinner isn’t ready yet. I can try and speed it up, but Jess said Jez wouldn’t be here till half past.”
“Jez?” I asked.
“Yes,” Jess answered, “my boyfriend? The one you promised me you like?”
“Oh, okay.” I hadn’t realised Jez would be there. I hadn’t seen him since we had our ‘talk’.
When Jez arrived, we sat down for Mum’s homemade lasagne. Obviously, the topic of conversation was Jess and Jez’s upcoming trek up Kilimanjaro. Jess excitedly told us how their preparations were going, how much sponsorship they had accumulated and how it had inspired her to get fit by going running. I mentioned how I too had started running. Jess scoffed and explained to me how she could kick my butt in the running stakes. To be clear, she can’t.
During dinner, I don’t like to admit it, but I did need to check my card a couple of times. He was warning me against the danger of harming Jess’s Kilimanjaro expedition by thinking the bad word, so I had to shut him down by cancelling out the negativity by reading the good words. As long as I kept to the new rules, everything would be okay.
“So, you’ve been running then, Toby? That’s good. I was wondering why y
ou’d been quiet the last week or so,” said Mum.
“What you mean is you were wondering why Toby hasn’t been crying wolf this week,” chipped in Dad.
Mum sprang to my defence. “Oh, Mike, don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t cry wolf. He’s just vigilant,”
“I don’t know why you do it, Sue. Do you do this, Jez? Two or three times a week, Toby rings his mum up from work, stressing that he’s left the door unlocked or he’s left the shower on, or it’s raining and he thinks he’s left the skylight open. And his mother, in her wisdom, two or three times a week gets on the bus and goes round with her spare keys to find that the door is locked, the shower is off, and the skylight is closed, and then she phones Toby to tell him that everything’s okay.”
I felt myself shrink into my chair as I muttered “It’s not two or three times a week.”
“Yes, it is. I don’t know why you waste your mother’s time. You’re big enough to take responsibility for yourself. I mean, Sue, have you ever actually found any of these issues when you’ve been round?” Dad was holding his hands out wide and shaking his head.
“Oh, stop it, Mike. It’s not two or three times a week, it’s maybe once every two or three weeks,” said Mum.
I sneaked a look at Jez, but he was looking down at his plate.
“You have been quiet though, Toby. Is everything okay at work?” Mum enquired.
“I’ve actually decided to leave work.” I was now the one staring down at my plate.
“What? Why? I thought you loved that job. You’ve been there so long.” Mum placed both her hands on her cheeks.
“I left a couple of weeks ago. I just felt that I wasn’t progressing enough and needed a fresh start.”
“So, where’s your new job then?” Dad’s face was creasing up. “I take it you have got one.”
“No, not yet, I’m considering my options. I think I might go for a trainee accountancy role.”
“Isn’t that what your current job, sorry, your old job was meant to be when you started? Whenever we asked why you hadn’t qualified yet, you always said that you decided accountancy wasn’t your thing and you were keeping your options open.” Dad was using his fork to bang the table, thinking this accentuated his points.
“I’ve changed my mind, haven’t I? It’s my life, I can do what I want, can’t I?” I bristled and ever so slightly raised my voice.
“Well, I think it’s great that you want to improve yourself, and your running sounds wonderful. And I must say that when I saw you tonight I thought you looked really well.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
Mum gave me a warm smile.
“Hey, while you’re waiting for a new job, you can help me build my new shed.”
“You’re getting a new shed, Mike?” I was grateful for Jez’s question as this moved the attention away from me, and the rest of dinner was spent listening to Dad drone on about his super new deluxe shed.
After dinner, I found myself alone with Jez in the living room as Jess, Dad and Mum were talking in the kitchen.
“So, you decided to leave work? I thought you were made redundant?”
I shuffled slightly in my seat. “I was. It’s just, well, you’ve seen what Mum’s like. She worries. She’d feel more confident about things if she felt it was my decision and I was in control. I am thinking about training to be an accountant by the way, and properly this time.”
“That’s great. So, erm, how have you been?”
I cast a glance towards the door that led to the kitchen to make sure none of the others were about to come in, then leaned into Jez and in a low voice said, “Okay, Jez, I admit I have been struggling for a while with, I don’t know, anxiety a bit, I guess, but I feel like I’ve had a breakthrough recently and I am getting over it. I’ve got myself a system that’s working really well. It’s keeping me on track.”
“A system?” Jez frowned. “And does this system include the card you kept looking at during dinner?”
“Oh, you saw that?” I felt myself flush. “That’s nothing. It’s just some motivational words I like to read to keep me pepped up.”
Jez stared at me and then sighed. “Toby, I really do think you should speak to a professional about this.”
“Jez, I appreciate your concern and…” I paused as I heard footsteps approaching, then lowered my voice to a whisper, “…and you made me recognise that I needed to do something, and I’m doing it. I really feel that I’ve got it sorted now.”
Jez was about to speak when Jess walked in.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Rugby!” Jez and I said in unison. I gave Jez a grateful smile.
16
Nerves and excitement were fluttering in my belly like the proverbial butterflies. I have had plenty of feelings of nervousness before, but I couldn’t remember the last time the nerves had been fuelled by the eager anticipation of a date. Was it a date? Well, I guess not officially. But Helen was an attractive woman and I hoped it was going to go well, and I prepared as if it was a proper date. I got out my smartest jeans and my light blue pulling shirt and ironed them within an inch of their lives. Because I was so keen for it to go well, my rules were compromised slightly. Only slightly though. I was not surprised that he was taking an interest in tonight’s dalliance and so he urged me to be vigilant and not to think any negative words. My rule of three was temporarily extended with regards to getting in and out of the shower and ironing my clothes, spraying aftershave, putting clothes on and then off again, locking the front door, to a rule of nine. These were extenuating circumstances and so I was quick to forgive myself going to nine, and felt proud that I was able to force myself to stop at nine, give or take, every time – well nearly every time – but I was still in control of him and I made sure he knew it.
The problem was that the rule of nine had caused time pressures, and even though I had wisely adopted ‘Toby time’ tonight by aiming to get there early, I was in real danger of being late.
We were meeting in the Courthouse so it was familiar territory for me. I had to make sure that none of my quirks or compulsions were easily identified tonight. Just before I went into the pub, I took out my card to top myself up with the good word and then went in. And then immediately out, and in again, and out again, and in again, and read the card again once inside. At least I was back to the rule of three and I had been discreet with it. Hopefully Helen wasn’t there yet. I looked at my watch. I was only seventeen minutes late. Not bad, I thought, then looked up to see Helen staring, or was it glaring at me from a table in clear sight of the door. Not an ideal start.
“So sorry I’m late, Helen. Have you been waiting long? It’s great to see you. What can I get you to drink?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve only been waiting twenty minutes. Not too long. And I’ve already got a drink.” Helen’s face was implacable as she indicated a half-finished glass of white wine next to an already drained glass.
“I’m so, so sorry. I should have rung ahead to let you know I was running late. I didn’t think.” I started tapping my chest.
“No surprise there. Men usually don’t.” The smile I was hoping to see, which would have softened Helen’s words was still not in evidence.
“Sorry…I will, erm, just go grab a drink. Sure you won’t have one?”
“Go on, then. I’ll have a large white wine.”
I returned from the bar with my pint of lager and what appeared to be Helen’s third large white wine. She was wearing a black leather jacket over a red blouse with dark jeans. She looked like she could be on a date, I thought, as I handed over her drink. Helen took a large sip from her new glass and then looked at me with narrowed eyes, “So what was with your little performance at the door?”
Fuck, she’d seen that. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I jus
t thought I had dropped something and went to check.”
“What, three times?”
“Yeah. Well, no. I, erm, thought I had glanced someone I knew, so went to check, and then I thought I heard someone call my name.” I didn’t set out in life aiming to be an accomplished liar, but I had sadly developed a knack for it. “So…it really is good to see you.”
“Thanks,” was her reply as she pulled her phone from her handbag and stared at the screen.
“You look really well. Better than ever.”
“Thanks,” she said again, but this time I detected the hint of a smile breeching her defences. It was looking like my charm offensive was paying off.
“Why do you still feel it’s okay to mess me around, Toby?”
Hmm, perhaps I was overconfident regarding the charm offensive.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been waiting ages for you, with everyone staring at the sad woman who’s obviously been stood up, and when you finally do turn up, and I wave to show you where I am, you walk back out again, leaving me hanging as if you’ve had second thoughts. Then you come back in and act as if you’re forcing yourself to meet me. Next you pull out your shopping list or something before finally deciding you can be bothered to sit down with me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It was just like when we were at school.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
I didn’t know what she meant. I sat in silence, racking my brain trying to work it out, but then Helen saved me the job. “I had loads of people interested in me, but I was with you. But obviously you didn’t feel the same. Always late, always distracted and always making excuses until you clearly decided you’d had enough and just finished it without an explanation. The first boyfriend I actually really liked messed me around and I’ve been getting messed around ever since. I must be a mug.” I bit my bottom lip hard as I tried to process what she was saying and attempted to construct a response. “Well? Are you going to say something?” she said, more as a challenge than a question.