by Ben Thomas
“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean to mess you about and upset you…I’m sorry…I didn’t realise.”
“No, you lot never do realise. You’re all wrapped up in your own worlds. You and your mate don’t care about anyone but yourselves.”
Helen took another gulp from her glass to finish it and indicated to the waiter for another one. She was already clearly drunk. I had just seen angry drunk, which was now turning into melancholy drunk as she put her face in her hands. “What’s wrong with me, Toby? Why do I always end up with the wrong men?”
“Helen, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re a strong, beautiful, talented woman. Look, I can’t speak for anyone else, but sometimes there is stuff going on with the other person, stuff maybe they can’t handle and as a consequence they can’t handle a relationship and they can end up acting selfishly.”
“So, what was your excuse? Why were you such a bastard?” With the arrival of Helen’s next wine came the return of angry drunk. I was wondering if I might still get to see happy drunk, but by this stage I wasn’t holding out much hope.
“Well, I didn’t want or mean to be a bastard. I…I’ve…” I hesitated. What to say? I couldn’t tell her the full story, but I couldn’t see her hurting and I wanted to give her some explanation. I knew he wouldn’t want me to tell the full story, and I didn’t want to risk it either. “I’ve had issues, which I, erm, didn’t understand at the time, but I do now. Issues with anxiety and confidence. I don’t know, I guess it was stress-related or something.”
“Are you saying I was stressful?” Was that a genuine smile that I saw there? I gambled that it was, and returned her smile and went to put my hands on hers.
“Oi, oi, what’s this then? Not interrupting, are we?” I looked up to see Steve and with him was…Julie.
Steve looked particularly pleased with himself, as without invitation he sat down next to me. Julie’s enthusiasm to join us didn’t match Steve’s.
“Steve, I don’t think they want us intruding on their night out,” said Julie and then turning to Helen, “Excuse Steve, he doesn’t have any manners.”
“No, no it’s okay, please join us.” My initial shock at seeing Steve and in particular Julie was barged out of the way by horror. What was Helen thinking? What was Julie thinking? She hadn’t even acknowledged me yet. What was she doing out with Steve? Julie sat down next to Helen, opposite me. I took her in; she was wearing a grey suit jacket with a knee-length black dress and had her hair tied back. She looked at me with those deep blue eyes, but they didn’t seem to be dancing as usual. They looked tired, sad. She looked up at me and gave me a tight smile.
“So, are you going to introduce us then, Toby?” said Steve, oblivious to the tension but doing an adequate job of cutting through it.
“Yeah, yeah of course. Helen, this is Steve and Julie who I work, I mean, used to work with. Steve and Julie, this is Helen…” How was I to describe Helen? I wasn’t sure if she was happy for me to describe us as friends and I didn’t think it was appropriate to describe her as an ex. “Helen and I went to school together.” That would do.
“Oh yeah, just good friends, eh?” Steve raised his eyebrows to give a knowing look. Typically, Steve knew nothing.
“So where do you work?” asked Helen.
“Mitchell & Harvey, the accountants,” replied Steve.
“I’ve heard of that firm. Haven’t they been taken over recently and had a load of redundancies?”
“That’s right, and we’ve got one of the said redundancies at our table,” said a grinning Steve.
“Cheers, Steve. I’m glad you’re so happy about it.”
“Hey, we miss you man. This one here,” Steve nodded towards Julie and winked, “has been moping around since you left like she’d lost her puppy.”
“Shut up, Steve,” snapped Julie, shooting Steve an icy stare. I wondered if she had said anything to Steve about my aborted night of passion with her. “There’s been a lot of people leave recently, and they’re all missed.” She gave me a brief look with the trace of a smile which caused a stir in my stomach. Then turning to Helen she said, “You seem well informed about our company. Are you in the industry yourself?”
“Goodness no. I couldn’t think of anything more boring than staring at numbers all day, no offence. I’m a freelance journalist. My boyfriend, or sort-of-boyfriend, is one of the partners in the private equity company that bought you. He found that deal particularly stressful. Mind you, he’s always stressed, or so he says.”
“So he says?” said Julie, raising her eyebrows. “So you don’t believe him?”
Helen leaned back in her seat and folded her arms, “Haven’t you discovered yet that men are selfish liars?”
“Whoa, whoa now,” said Steve suddenly very animated. “Present company excluded.”
“I doubt it. No offence.” Helen took another drink. “Men like to make up crap excuses for being shit boyfriends. The latest excuse that’s trending is to say that they’re stressed or depressed or anxious.” Helen made no attempt to hide the glare that she shot me. Where was she going with this outburst? “I’ve run out of patience with my excuse of a boyfriend. I’ve had enough of him being obsessed with work and not taking an interest in me, obsessing on all these big deals he needs to make. He doesn’t make a big deal of me. He’s irritable, he snaps all the time, he shuts me out. When he tries to make up with me he plays the stress card: ‘Oh baby, I’m so sorry, work’s been so-o-o-o stressful, I’m under so-o-o-o much pressure.’ Yeah right. Then when he does make time for me, he’s all moody and silent. Doesn’t want to do anything anymore – and I mean anything.” Steve excitedly responded to Helen’s knowing look. Like I said, Steve knew nothing. “He simply doesn’t give a crap about me, so why should I bother with his bullshit excuses?”
“Stress and depression can be very serious you know,” Julie interjected, bravely in my mind, as I knew what Helen was capable of when she was in this type of mood. “It sounds like he’s really struggling.”
“Ha, you might be the type of person to fall for that crap, but I know it’s all bollocks. He’s got nothing to be stressed about.” Helen started listing on her fingers. “He earns more money than you can dream of, he’s handsome, he’s respected for all his success and the charity work he does, he’s got friends and – if he was interested – he’s got, or should I say, he had, me.” Julie made a vain attempt to stifle a snort at this. “I feel down from time to time. I’ve certainly felt down with him, but I don’t go whining about it and claiming I’m depressed. I get on with it. What’s the point in feeling sorry for yourself? I mean, get a fucking grip!”
I could feel a tapping in my consciousness, he was wanting to be let in. He had something to say, and I knew what it was. It was becoming very evident that I shouldn’t have opened up to Helen.
“I’ve heard this excuse from men more and more recently,” Helen continued. “In fact, I’m going to write an article about these losers who can’t handle their emotions. These men need to man the fuck up. They think it’s fashionable to hide behind mental illness. Like I said, bu-u-u-l-l-l shit.”
Julie’s nostrils flared slightly. I knew this tell well enough to know what was coming. She shot me a glance before focusing back on Helen. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I find your views quite offensive. Just because you can’t see mental illness, it doesn’t make it any less real. It’s views such as yours that prevent people seeking help because they think they’re going to be judged harshly. You should support your boyfriend or ex-boyfriend or whatever you’ve decided he is to you and encourage him to get help.”
Helen leaned forward, her eyes narrowing and darkening. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but who are you to lecture me. What would you know? I have supported him, for years now. I was there for him when his mum passed away, when others weren’t.” Helen looked directly at me as sh
e said this, before turning back to Julie. “I consoled him and encouraged him then, but that was years ago. He should be over that now. You can only give so much support. I’ve done everything for him. He’s not depressed, he’s not stressed, he just can’t be bothered with anything or anyone apart from his precious career and precious charity.”
Kev! Her boyfriend was Kev. I’m so stupid! Why hadn’t I realised before? Julie was about to return fire, but I put my hand on her arm and gave her a subtle shake of the head. She looked at me, fire in her eyes, then she looked at Helen, who was yet again draining her glass. She opened her mouth before pausing and turning to me again. She gave me a look of resignation before standing up.
“Come on, Steve. Let’s leave them to it. Toby, it was nice to see you. I hope you’re doing okay.”
A wave of remorse washed through me as I watched Julie leave. I looked at Helen as her glare followed Julie out of the bar.
What was happening? This was not how this ‘date’ was meant to go. I needed to stay in control.
“Helen, are you going out with Kev?”
Helen looked at me as if I was stupid. “As if you didn’t know.”
“No one said anything to me.”
“We’ve been together, well on and off, since we finished school. In fact, pretty much right after your ignoring of me made me realise we were no longer together. You must have known. You abandoned us both, so it was only natural that we’d grow close and comfort each other.”
“Look, I didn’t know okay. But that’s not important right now. If Kev is struggling then Julie’s right, he should get help. On reflection, he did seem a bit down at the charity event. Maybe he does need supporting.”
“On reflection, maybe you should have thought about that when his mum died.”
SHE SAID IT.
I shuddered and shrank into myself as Helen continued her attack, unaware that she had just dealt me such a blow. “Where were you then? You ignored him like you ignored me. So don’t give me that crap about supporting him. Support him is all I’ve done. Where have you been? You’ve done nothing, absolutely nothing.”
“I…I didn’t realise…”
“Didn’t realise! His mum fucking died and you didn’t realise?”
She died because of you and more people will die because of you. The demons will take them.
“I just thought at the time it was best to stay away.”
You stayed away because you killed her, didn’t you?
“Your best mate was grieving and you thought it was best to stay away?”
Because you killed her.
“Yes. I mean no. I don’t know.” Tears were crowding into my eyes, clambering to be released. “I was struggling a lot, like I said with anxiety, worry, fear, I couldn’t cope.”
“Oh, poor you. You couldn’t cope. What a load of crap. You know what I think? You were too absorbed with your own petty worries like your rugby matches and your grades. You should have been worrying about me and your friends. You’re just selfish, always have been.”
“I know. You’re right, but I’m trying. I’m getting better.”
“Getting better? Getting better from what? Your made up problems? Your anxiety? You don’t know what real problems are. Meeting up with your friends at a charity do after a fifteen year absence doesn’t make it better. Where were you when your friends needed you? Where were you when Louise had two miscarriages? Where were you when Al had to file for bankruptcy? Where were you when Ryan got divorced? Those are real problems, not your bullshit problems.”
I was stunned. I didn’t know how to respond.
“I know, you’re right. I know I’ve let people down. I want to start making it up to you, all of you.”
“Don’t bother, it’s too late for that. The others may have been more forgiving, but Kev isn’t and I’m not.”
“So why did you want to meet with me?”
“I was using you. I’m not ashamed to say that I wanted to make Kev jealous. What better way to snap him out of his indifference to me than to go on a date with the man he hates the most.”
“He doesn’t hate me.”
“Oh yeah? Really? Is that why he personally made you redundant. Why he bought your firm with his pocket money so he could take away your job, so there’s even more proof that you’re a loser. I was gutted when we broke up. You made me feel like shit. Kev, for all his faults, made me feel desirable again, at least for a while. Well I’m glad you went away, and you should have stayed away. You’re dead to us.”
She said it. Your life is over. YOU’RE DOOMED! KILL YOURSELF NOW.
My breathing accelerated. I was hyperventilating. My heart, already pulsing relentlessly, now felt like it was going to explode. My left hand moved to my throat and I started applying pressure. He was right, I was going to die. With my right hand I took out my card from my jacket pocket and started reading it, manically saying the words out loud.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Helen snatched the card out of my grasp.
“No!” She read the card just before I managed to grab it back. She looked at me in disbelief as the tears were rolling down my face, one hand still at my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter and the other a fist with the card crushed inside as I beat my chest, hard, chanting blessed blessings bless me, blessed blessings bless me.
Helen stood up from the table a mixture of disgust and anger painted on her face. “I was wrong about mental illness. You’re clearly mental, you sad, sad weirdo. If I don’t see you for another fifteen years it’ll be too soon.” And with that she left. I looked around. The eyes of the whole pub were on me. I saw one of the bar staff walking over to me. I had to escape. I scrambled up, knocking my pint glass off the table in the process and ran out of the pub.
17
This was my punishment. I was damned. There was no point going on. The terror was engulfing me. I had run and walked all the way home. I needed to keep moving to escape the eyes of people judging me.
The people in the pub, the people I passed in the street all looking at me, seeing inside my mind, seeing what I had caused. I didn’t want to be a bad person, I wanted to be good. I wanted to help and protect people but I couldn’t keep the evil at bay. I couldn’t stop the evil from afflicting those I cared for.
He was having a party in my mind. Fear, terror, paranoia, dread and anxiety danced in delight and feasted on my weakness and celebrated my demise. As I sat on my hallway floor with my back to the front door and my head in my hands, all I could hear was him mocking me for my foolishness. How could I think I could subdue him? Why was I so naïve to think I was in charge of my mind? He had provided more proof that it was his mind, not mine; it was his life, not mine. He owned my mind.
You are damned. You are damned.
He kept taunting me, replaying the same message over and over again. I felt his sharp talons inside my throat, scraping down my insides. Tearing through my lungs, through my heart, through my stomach. Killing me from the inside out. I felt him reach inside me and tear out my innards. I had been infected by evil. I was dead inside.
Say your good word, you need to say your good word.
“Blessed blessings bless me. BLESS! BLESS! BLESS!” I cried out in desperation, pleading like the condemned man that I was, trying to restrict the damage. But it was too late. I was powerless to prevent his scourge, but like a fool I still tried to block out his taunting.
Don’t think the bad words. Death, devil, demons, die, die, DIE!
“Blessed blessings bless me.”
He was mocking me, laughing at me. My life was over. I tried thinking about everything and anything to keep my mind away from the evil, but the more I fought, the more I thought. I thought about how much I wanted to protect Mum, Dad, Jess, Julie, but as soon as I thought their names or pictured their faces the evil would be heralded. I would picture them being engulfed
by horror and pain, a black cloak enveloping them. I tried to push the images away, but the harder I pushed, the more vivid they became. Dark rats eating into their souls, savaging them, ravaging their hopes. Burning. Burning in Hell, the Devil punishing them for my sins. Torturing them. Malevolent claws digging into their eyes and tearing, tearing the skin off their faces. My loved ones. They were crying for mercy, begging for the pain to stop. And it was all my fault.
You thought it, it will come to pass. You are touching them with evil.
“Bless, bless, bless. Bless them, protect them, bless them, protect them,” I chanted in frenzied prayer. Evil I had allowed to happen kept playing out as a continual loop in my mind’s eye. I remembered Jess’s pain at her birth, how she nearly didn’t make it. She nearly died because I allowed the evil. It was my fault.
Kev’s mum. I should have been more vigilant in stopping the evil from infecting her. When I found out she was ill all I could think about was her dying. He warned me. I tried my hardest to protect her, I really did, but I kept reading about death, I kept on hearing people speak about it, I kept thinking about her dying. It was as if I was summoning death, it was everywhere I looked. I was the gatekeeper for death, I should have been strong enough to keep death out, I should have protected her. But I didn’t. I allowed death to take her. I know my thinking caused it. I caused my best friend to lose his mum. And then I abandoned him.
Helen’s revelations on my date from hell were more evidence that I had allowed the bad things to happen. I’d been careless. If only I’d been more diligent in my rituals, then things would have gone well. She would have extended the hand of friendship. She would have allowed me to rebuild the bridges with her and Kev, which I didn’t even realise I had destroyed. Now she knew all about me, knew how pathetic I was, how weird I was. And she’d tell everyone. She was going to write that article exposing me to the world as a deranged, insensitive, self-obsessed loser. She was going to write it, and everyone would read it and know.