Life is strange here. I should absolutely hate it. No internet, no alcohol, and no company other than an old lady. But here I am, a few days in, finding the whole experience strangely peaceful. I eat bland but healthy meals with Mabel, then for the rest of the day I isolate myself in one of the many spare rooms and write.
I never really thought about how much of my time is spent trying. Trying to find a job. Trying to find an agent. Trying to find inspiration. Trying not to fail. It’s exhausting, and ultimately it’s got me nowhere. None of those are really an option here. I have nothing but time and blank pages to fill.
Every day I’ve had texts from my friends. I think I’ve spoken to them more since coming here than ever before. Their concern actually makes me uncomfortable. I like to think of them as bastards, not caring individuals with my best interest at heart.
This is weighed against the complete lack of communication from Steph. Nobody else has spoken to her either, so I could be anywhere for all she knows. For the first few days, this was the hardest part. Had I really been that much of a burden to her? Was she really glad that I was gone? Now I don’t care. What’s done is done. The only thing important now is my future.
I’m not much inclined for optimism, but I’ve hit rock bottom and it’s proven to be softer than I imagined. I know this sense of peace won’t last so I’m enjoying it while I can. I view it as a holiday, or a writing retreat.
When was the last time I had a holiday? Not since I was eight. Our parents took us to Skegness for a week. I don’t exactly remember much, but we used to go there every year. After Dad died, Mum never took us anywhere. All I remember is the sea. I’ve not been to the seaside since.
My phone starts to ring. It’s a number I don’t recognise. My stomach lurches. I hope it’s a cold-caller. It isn’t.
“Hey, it’s Josh, Tommy’s cousin. I’ve just got back to the steel city. If you’re still wanting the job then come down to the store this afternoon and I’ll get you sorted.”
“Yes, I still need it. Cheers mate. I’ll see you soon.”
Fuck. Seems like my holiday is over. Reality is knocking. I knew this was coming, but I’d still hoped for a few more days of peace.
“Off into the big world now then?” Mabel grins over her mug at me after I explain the situation to her as we eat lunch. “You’ll be grand, don’t you worry.”
I’m not so confident. The job is one I dread, and even if I somehow don’t hate it I know I’ll manage to fuck up somehow. I always do. Not for the first time my thoughts whiplash back to the scratchcard. Blaming all of my problems on Pete would be disingenuous, but all the major life-changing ones were squarely on the bastard’s shoulders. Steph’s betrayal and the straight up theft of my only hope. Things would be different if I still had that damn card.
I finish up my cuppa and stand.
“Anyway, I’d best be off. It’s a long walk from here.”
“Nonsense,” Mabel says sternly. “Look at those clouds. You can’t walk all that way in the rain. You’ve got to make a good impression on a job interview. You don’t want to be all sweaty and wet.”
“It’s not really an interview and I already know the bloke.”
“That’s not the point. It’s all about showing willingness and pride. That’s what my Frank always used to say. I can’t have you turning up in a state. Frank would be spinning in his grave. Here.”
She holds out a crisp £10 note that had been tucked into her apron pocket. I stare at it for a moment then try and turn it away. Mabel is having none of it. She grabs my wrist with surprising strength and shoves the money into my hand.
“Get yourself a taxi. Go on. I’m not one to take no as an answer.”
I offer her a smile and make a dramatic show of ringing the taxi company. A shrill voiced woman confirms the booking.
“There you go. A taxi’s booked. You happy now? I was looking forward to the walk. I’ve not left the house since I got here. One might call it a prison.”
Mabel frisbees a digestive biscuit at my head with a quick flick of her wrist. Her smile belongs on a demon, not a granny.
“Ain’t nobody stopping you from wandering. You scared I’ll block you in and force you to the floor if you try? These frail bones are mighty intimidating, eh?”
“Heaven, no! A sweet old dear like you would never try to overpower me. It’s poison I worry about.”
She laughs like a hyena and I start to fear she might have a heart attack. Still laughing, she stands up to make the habitual trip to the kettle.
There is a well worn path on the floor from her seat to the stove. The house is huge, but her entire life is encapsulated within the narrow zone between kettle, table, and bed. I can’t help but wonder if she’s really happy. She’s rich, wants for nothing, and has a cheerful personality, but her life seems so empty.
I wasn’t lying when I said I was looking forward to the walk. I’ve never much liked cars. Walking is an excuse to avoid responsibilities for a little while, a time where there are no expectations beyond simply reaching your destination. Even I struggle to mess that up. With a taxi booked instead though, I’m now left with spare time that I don’t know how to spend.
I’ll never admit it, but I’m too nervous to do anything productive. I know the job’s guaranteed. These nerves are for once entirely unrelated to the prospect of failure. They drip from the inevitability of the future, and from my pride and ego when the mirror of reality is held up to them. I can see the only available path clearly before me, but is no path the better option? Is life at any cost a life worth living?
Content that I’m trapped here for a little while, Mabel pours me another cup of tea. I feel more tea than man. This is the longest I’ve gone without an alcoholic drink in years. Good hydration, regular sleep patterns, and a diet not made up almost exclusively of junk. My body doesn’t know how to cope.
“It’s your first trip out since you got here. Any grand plans for after your meeting? A special lady who’s been lonely without you?”
I snort and almost choke on my tea. Madaline had never called me back, so that was that avenue closed off. My mind barely has a chance to settle on her though before it jumps to the purple-haired girl from the shop. I feel a strange pang thinking about her. Though this in turn only reminds me of the scratchcard and sends a spike of anger through me. I try to shake it off.
“No special ladies for me I’m afraid. You’ve got no competition for my time. You’re truly blessed.”
“A young man like yourself should be looking to settle down soon. That’s what I keep telling our Larry. Folk these days just don’t seem to want it.”
“Want’s not got a lot to do with it. The world’s different these days. Everything’s bigger. More open. You meet more people, and have people from across the world all vying for the same jobs. Even our expectations are bigger. If I managed to get a decent job and find someone who I wanted to live with, you can’t raise a family on a single income anymore. We’re all little fish thrown into the primordial ocean.”
Mabel nods sadly. “Yes. That’s basically what our Larry said too. I don’t envy you youngsters. My generation had hardships, terrible ones, but it all felt like it meant something, that we were working towards a better tomorrow. Somewhere along the way I think we all got very lost.”
I don’t answer. What can I possibly say? Things are fucked. But how much can we blame on the generations before us? I look at certain people in the generation below me and I see burning anger. A desire to actively change the world. They’re born knowing that society is broken and that the dreams we are force-fed are lies. But for us, we’re complacent. Too bought into the system to rebel, and too utterly tired to care.
A horn beeps from outside. I give Mabel a smile as I stand.
“Well, that’s my ride. Philosophy will have to wait.”
“Good luck. Show them your worth!”
Matthew Roys 