Rehab Blues

by Adrian Laing

  As Martin had approached the ball, the net seemed to get smaller and smaller. At the very last moment he changed his mind as to where to place his kick and whacked it straight into the arms of the goalkeeper. He had never seen a crowd react with such passion and joy; the immediate and all-engulfing feeling of sheer unadulterated failure and humiliation was a first for Martin who had slumped to the ground in abject shame.

  Not one of his team mates had approached him to console him in his obvious despair, not one. Martin imagined an iconic picture of himself, on his knees, head bowed, blown up on the back pages of all the newspapers. Every cruel school boy nickname he could remember flashed through his mind in big, bold letters.

  Before the match Martin had managed to fight off Tracy’s demand that he head straight to The Place. At that moment he couldn’t wait for his agent to whisk him away and head south, quickly.

  To wake up on a Sunday morning with a clear head and an even clearer recollection of the night before was a rare event for the young man who was used to being the centre of unbridled adulation during the hours that followed each glorious victory.

  Martin was becoming quite familiar with the small twin bedded room and looked across at the other bed in which Huck was resting, also wide awake.

  “No hard feelings about last night, Martin?” Huck spoke in a clear, confident voice staring straight ahead as if he’d been waiting for the right moment to clear the air.

  Martin paused only for a moment, relieved that Huck had broken the ice.

  “Huck, I guess I had it coming. Strange twist for Tamara to ask us to role play sisters, bit weird, really. I was a bit surprised at how quickly you kinda got into it, took me by surprise, that’s all.”

  In between the painful, immediate memories of the match, Martin had been playing over in his mind all the things which Huck had said to him the night before. They were spot on, really.

  By any standards, Huck had launched into a sustained and vicious verbal attack. Huck, in his role-playing Martin’s-sister persona, had stood right in front of Martin, his head raised high to meet Martin’s glaze, demanding to know how he could betray ‘sisterly love’ by sleeping with Huck’s ‘husband’, ranting all the while that everyone knew what Martin was doing.

  The final coup-de-grace, delivered as a wild, high-octane tirade was that Martin was the lowest of the low, a complete cow and an evil bitch. Eventually Martin had thrown away the wig and broken down in a flood of tears before Tamara wisely decided that the ‘game’ had been played out to its conclusion and should come to an immediate halt.

  What had surprised everyone was that Martin and Huck ended up in a long, heart-felt embrace, as fighters sometimes do after a life-defining physical encounter. Tamara had suggested that Martin and Huck share the same room for the night, a calculated gamble that Helen had agreed was worth the risk. Huck lifted himself up a bit and placed his hands behind his head.

  “We all knew about the match, Martin.”

  “I reckoned the whole world knew about the match, Huck. I’ll come back, you’ll see.”

  Huck raised himself upright up in his bed and looked over at Martin. “Listen kid, I’ve nothing against you, really. You know when you put on an England shirt we’re all behind you. We’ll torment and abuse you if you wear one shirt, and cheer you when you wear another. It’s just a game. But what you’ve been doing to Tracy mate is just, you know, out of order; it’s not the right way to go about life, to destroy someone who loves you so much Martin. You know what I mean? That isn’t a game, Martin, that’s real life. You’re treating your wife as if you hate her, as if you want to humiliate her. Why would you do that to a woman? You’re doing her head in. It doesn’t make sense unless you’re so… so… unable to understand how she feels. If that’s all it’s about then maybe you can change things, Martin.”

  Martin let the words sink in. There were few people in the world he listened to, really listened to, and Huck was now one of them.

  “I guess you’re right, Huck. I felt as if I had the shit kicked out me yesterday. It’s not that I really enjoy the screwing around that much any more, I just get a kick out of doing it. Maybe I’ll just stick to the WagYu steak and give up the crap double cheeseburgers.”

  “That’s a good way of putting it, Martin. Maybe try spending some quality time with your daughter before it’s too late. These days will come and go in the blink of an eye Martin, but your family will last forever. What’s the point of being a hero to your fans and a complete shit to your family? I don’t get it.”

  “You’re right Huck; I know that, I do.”

  “So, you just going to head off, or what?”

  “I guess I will, soon enough. I’ve some catching up to do, time to face the music all round. I mean everyone wants to lay it on me, Huck. Everyone. But that Helen lady said I should stick around maybe for just a bit, just for one last session. Straighten me up before I head north.”

  ***

  “Alrighty, I’m ready for some serious side-splitting laughter therapy. No mercy, no prisoners. Who’s with me on this one?” Gootsy just looked so happy.

  Betty looked apprehensively towards Toni who failed to return any sign of reassurance, being somewhat pre-occupied with scratching his arse, a bit too intensely.

  Sometimes these sessions were a bit of a challenge to Gootsy. Not that he couldn’t hack it as and when required; it was just that sometimes he felt pretty low himself given his age, but today Gootsy felt nothing short of perfect. Today was going to be a great day, he could feel it.

  Gootsy surveyed the faces in front of him: Huck, Betty, Toni, Annie, Davy and Martin.

  “I must be blessed, you know, to be so lucky to have you lot with me today. OK, here’s how we’re going to start. Each of you will stand in front of the group and simply say: ‘I’m so-and-so, and I’m a ‘whatever’ you do, or even what you shouldn’t do. Get it? We can start with you, Martin. You can say: ‘My name’s Martin and I score goals.’ OK, maybe not.”

  In times past Martin might have taken immediate and serious umbrage with such a comment. But he was the first to let loose a little self-effacing snigger, as if to confirm that he was OK with Gootsy’s risqué comment.

  “So, Betty, off you go.”

  Betty gingerly stepped forward and faced the group.

  “Hi, I’m Betty and I like chocolate hobnobs.” Betty’s one-liner caused instant and prolonged whooping and cheering.

  Next up was Toni. “OK, I’m Toni and I like ladies.” Mock boos followed.

  “My name’s Huck, and I’m a fighter.” An awkward silence ensued.

  “More like a tart with a heart” responded Annie provocatively, a comment which generated ringside-like hoots and applause.

  “I’m Annie, I may look like a Zombie but I sing like an angel.” Annie seemed taken aback with the prolonged laughter and spirited whooping.

  “I’m Davy Crocket, the Last King of Disco.” The new boy, Davy, immediately hit the spot with this crowd, judging by the whistles and cheers.

  “OK”, said Gootsy. “I want you all to lie down on this beautiful floor, on your backs, feet facing outwards, heads in a tight circle. Lie still with your arms by your side and close your eyes.”

  Gootsy waited until the group was still. “Now, think of the last time you laughed – really laughed – try to remember what it was that got to you. But don’t – I said – don’t start; hold it back for as long as you can.”

  Maybe it was just Gootsy’s light touch but the group one by one started to hold back stifled giggles until eventually Toni blurted out an uncontrollable loud outward wheeze of a laugh which became instantly infectious. Betty was next to blow; her contribution was unbelievably raucous, an old-fashioned filthy laugh from somewhere very deep inside. Soon they were without exception in the throes of conspiratorial laughter and child-like giggles, all in their own particular and pecu
liar ways. Betty’s contribution was just so loud. An unattributed fart from one of their number gave new life to the session.

  After a couple of minutes Gootsy ordered everyone up and asked them to stand in a circle facing each other. “Now, you all know how to pull a funny face – one at a time into the circle and pull your best funny face, back into the circle and let someone else have a go.”

  Annie was first in and simply tried to put on the straightest po-faced look she could manage, which not only brought about hoots of laughter but a spontaneous round of applause, prolonged when she dramatically pulled off her wig revealing a tight-fitting hair net and then threw the wig with gay abandon into a far corner of the room.

  Davy surprised everyone with his award-winning gurney best, and Huck’s ‘little girl lost’ look took everyone by surprise.

  Martin was now in full flow of the game and pretended to take a kick at a ball and then pulled a face of horrified disappointment.

  Gootsy was taken aback; even by his own standards this session seemed to have a life of its own and he let the group take turn after turn pulling faces and acting out improvised mini-scenes that come from nowhere.

  When he felt that the session was nearing the end of its natural life he realised he had reached the very satisfying point where no verbal commands or instructions were required. Whatever he did, the group simply imitated. He started by peering deep into Annie’s eyes, nose-to-nose, then moving on. He ran about the room flapping his arms, shaking his head with his tongue wagging wildly from his mouth. He did a pretty good impression of a staggering drunk, followed quickly with some spontaneous silly walks.

  It did help that Gootsy had a notoriously infectious manner, which for the most part did not consist of actually laughing, but his theatrical attempts at trying to stop laughing.

  Finally Gootsy dramatically fell to the floor as if he had been shot in the heart and lay still. The group immediately copied Gootsy, one by one, feigning their best dying moments until they were all completely and utterly still with exhaustion.

  Huck was the first to come round, back to some sense of normality. The whole process had left him feeling dizzy, and he felt real pain in his sides from the laughter.

  “OK, Gootsy, are we done? That was really – I mean really – great.”

  The small group quickly picked up that Gootsy was not playing any more; in fact Gootsy wasn’t even moving.

  Huck sort of crawled over to Gootsy’s still body.

  “Oh shit. I think Gootsy’s had it. Still breathing – maybe. Er, can someone can get Helen? Quickly!”

  Huck placed two fingers on Gootsy’s nose and opened the thin-lipped mouth with his other hand, in preparation for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. As Huck’s wide, opened mouth lowered Gootsy’s eyes suddenly sprang open. “Fooled ya!” Gootsy shouted, his face turning rapidly bright red clearly trying to hold in one almighty splutter of a laugh which seemed to try and escape through the sides of his tightly clenched mouth.

  Huck’s reaction was not unreasonable, in the circumstances – screaming like a young girl and jumping back if he’d been repelled by an invisible force. The group fell back into another round of tear-filled laughter while Huck and Gootsy enjoyed a prolonged giggle-infused bear hug.

  Toni placed his hand on the back of his new track suit. “Oh shit. I mean, oh shit.”

  11

  David and Helen were in their favourite chairs, facing Martin Howler in David’s office. Martin looked a lot less cocksure than when he had first arrived, that much was obvious. Helen even detected a sense of loss, a new maturity even. She had seen it many times before; it wasn’t uncommon for such a transformation to happen in less than twenty-four hours. Martin had been in The Place for a couple of nights, and the time was right to review how long his stay would last.

  “I had a call from Tracy this morning Martin” said Helen. “She sounded a lot better, more relaxed, much calmer all round. Tracy said she’d spoken with you in the middle of the night. Did she call you?”

  “No, Helen” said Martin looking down at his feet like a school boy in front of a very serious Headmistress. “I sent text after text and then I called. It wasn’t easy. I’ve only been here a couple of nights but it seems like a lifetime.”

  Helen looked very concerned and adopted what David called her ‘headmistress pose’.

  “Martin, I’m not telling you off or anything like that. But we have explained that in this day and age you have to be very careful about sending texts.”

  Martin cast his eyes to the floor like a naughty school boy. “Sorry, yes I should have remembered. Sorry, Helen.”

  “Ok Martin. Just be more alert, please. What’s done is done. Let’s move on. How do you feel? I mean towards Tracy.”

  Martin picked his fingers, shook his head, dug deep and eventually found the courage to look Helen in the eye.

  “Look, Helen, David, it’s like this. I’ve been doing what the hell I want for years. I’ve been screwing everything that moves – behind Tracy’s back, since day one. Even on our honeymoon. Even with her big, I mean little, sister, Cheryl.”

  Martin placed his heads in his hands as if he couldn’t believe what was he was saying.

  “That Huck guy, the one I’ve been sharing with? He said it all Helen. I get it now, I really do. Something happened. Maybe I wanted to get caught. I wanted it to end. I wanted an end to the crap, the lies… the pain I was causing. It was like a kind of joke with Tracy. You know everyone knew what was going on, the mum included, even the punters – everyone, except Tracy. When Tracy came back from here it was like she knew everything. I’ve never seen so much hurt in someone’s eyes. I could see it was cracking her up. Huck said to me: ‘why do you treat Tracy as if you hate her so much. Like, what has she done to you? And Tracy junior’… Oh god… why, why?”

  David was quicker to the tissues than Helen and passed the box over the Martin who manfully wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and declined the offer.

  “Look, I’m OK, I’m OK. I’m probably just as upset about the game if I’m honest. You know with me mates, the fans, and The Boss. I’ve had a look at myself, and it’s not a pretty picture. Yes, I phoned Tracy. I told her I’m sorry, I’ll change, I’ll make things right. I told her I love her, and I meant it. And I miss my little baby girl, I really do.”

  “You’re ready to leave, Martin. Don’t you think so, David?”

  David nodded, stood up and gave Martin a healthy pat on the back. “Come on Martin, you’re agent’s been hanging about nearby for a call, he can be here in twenty minutes. Time to go, my friend, time to hit the road.”

  Martin looked up, relieved there was agreement, and smiled.

  “Give my regards to that Gootsy guy. What a laugh I had. And to Betty, Toni and Huck. Mind if I take a few minutes to say thanks to Huck? I owe him.”

  “Sure, Martin, take all the time you need. Anything else we can do?”

  Martin paused and thought for a moment.

  “Yeah, there is, come to think about it.”

  Helen could sense some mischief in the air. “Come out with it, Martin, what have you got in mind?”

  “Well, I was just thinking… perhaps you need another… guest here. Tracy’s been, I’ve been, maybe…”

  David was ahead of this game. “I know, Martin, perhaps Tracy’s sister – Cheryl – maybe she could do with some time here? Not for long, but for long enough.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was kind of thinking. It wasn’t right me sending Tracy here.” Martin placed his hands over his face in disgrace. “Jesus. We all saw it unfold in front of our eyes. Tracy trusted me so much she felt she was going crazy with all the signals and vibes that I was screwing anything that moved. I guess it was just about right Tracy getting me to come down. But if anyone needs a bit of therapy or whatever it is you do here, it’s that Cheryl.”

&nbs
p; “OK, Martin, don’t you worry about it. Not right now, not today, but soon, very soon.”

  Helen looked over at David with a look he’d seen a thousand times before.

  Martin suddenly appeared a bit more composed. “Thanks, guys. I know it’s not Cheryl’s fault, like I’m not blaming her. But, you know, if Cheryl can get half of what I’ve learnt then things might start to get better all round, you know, for Tracy.”

  Helen sounded her solemn best. “Don’t worry Martin. We know. Now, say your thanks to Huck and get back home safely – share your love Martin, not your lust. And score some great goals.”

  “Er, not too many, Martin” said David with a smile.

  ***

  Helen had decided that it was time to appraise Annie.

  “OK, Annie, how do you feel? I mean do you think you’re making progress?”

  Annie certainly looked different. Having abandoned the wig, her thin grey hair and the absence of any make-up made her look several years older but in some way better.

  “Well, look at me, Helen. I guess I feel different. More real, I suppose. Haven’t had Botox for days. Jeez, haven’t had anything for days. But you know what? I feel better, yes that’s it – better. I looked in the mirror this morning and thought, well that’s who you are, really. I’ve no choice about it; it’s take it, or leave it.”

  David who had been sitting quietly decided the direct approach was in order.

  “Annie, what I want to know – you know, really want to know – is whether your feelings of despair are lifting? Seriously, Annie, the question you raised when you first arrived was whether your life was worth living – or not. Have you come any closer to an answer?”

  Annie stared at David with a very solemn look. “I’m getting there David. I feel as if I’ve been through you know – so much in the last few days. I just feel a lot more positive about life. What with that escapade to the ponds, and that whole episode with Tracy, then there was the first session with Gootsy – that was really weird but you know in a funny way. Not as funny as the laughing session, that was a joy. He’s a card, that Gootsy. You should have heard Huck scream, it was priceless.”