Imagine There's No Heaven

  Gina rubbed her notes off the blackboard, lay the chalk in its tray and turned to her students.

  ‘So, just try to read the chapter I assigned before our next class, please.’

  She counted heads. Some twenty-five were focussed on her, the remaining students being busy doodling in their notebooks, chatting to one another, fiddling with their phones or just gazing into thin air as though they were hallucinating, which Gina realised was perhaps not as unlikely as it sounded. Still, she had the attention of perhaps three-quarters of her students, which was a good result at any rate.

  The bell rang. ‘Not yet,’ she ordered, banging a ruler on the table so she was heard over the noise. ‘Not yet.’ She picked up a textbook from her desk and held it high for all to see. ‘Chapter seven by Monday, yes?’

  The class mumbled a vague understanding before thirty or so chairs made a hellacious choral scrape and all but one of the students dashed out into the hall. Guy remained slumped over in his seat in the centre of the classroom, all by himself. His eyes wore dark bags as though he had just woken up from a long sleep. Where all other students were desperate to leave, he appeared desperate to stay, or at least to not move. He picked his legs up and draped them over his table. His head lay still on his chest as though it were dead weight.

  He was fingering the dog tags around his neck. The almost inaudibly quiet tinkle of metal on metal sounded more like an alarm bell to Gina. She had come to recognise that when Guy was preoccupied with his dog tags he was invariably thinking painful thoughts about his family. That meant she needed to be patient and strong. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to relax completely, to allow all thoughts of lessons to subside.

  Finally, Guy stood and rather dawdled over to Gina, a discouraged look on his face. He was a rather bizarre creature at that moment. His chiselled physique, that seemed to have the strength and energy for mountain climbing, bumbled over as though he were as weak as a toddler. Gina eyed him sceptically.

  ‘Everything all right?’ she asked. He didn’t respond. ‘Did you have a good break?’ He lifted his tired eyes to face her. ‘I haven’t seen you for a while, what have you been up to?’

  Guy remained silent. He was half asleep.

  ‘Hello,’ Gina called. ‘Guy?’ Guy nodded his head so slowly Gina couldn’t be sure if he was responding or drifting off. Most likely he was fishing for attention, even though she always gave it freely. ‘Okay, Guy, you have my attention. How can I help you?’ Guy grunted something beneath his breath. Gina sighed in frustration. ‘You know, a conversation is a lot easier if you say something too.’

  She knew that Guy knew she had a soft spot for him and for his story and often were the times he used that to his advantage. She would allow it no more. ‘Well, if you’re just going to stand here quietly for a change then perhaps I might finally be able to talk to you about your grades,’ she boomed, feigning an anger she did not feel. She leaned over her desk. Her thin waist pulled at her shirt, accentuating her form. Guy took a quick peek and bit his lip. He pretended to be looking elsewhere when Gina took a sheet of paper from a file and turned to face him. ‘Your grades are slipping, Guy.’ She tapped her pencil on the page, ‘And I don’t understand why. You’re a bright kid.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Guy sarcastically retorted. He didn’t believe her.

  Gina set her pencil down and rubbed heavily at her eyes. Sometimes it upset her so much to not know how to help Guy. And at times he could be cruel. At times he would play upon her pity, feeding his own sense of worthlessness. It were as though he were frozen in time. He simply would not allow himself to move on, to become the successful and gentlemanly young man she knew he could be.

  ‘Well, anyway,’ Gina said, changing the tone. She brushed her hair behind her face. That grabbed his attention, at least to a degree. ‘What did you do this week? I missed you,’ she offered sweetly.

  Guy’s eyes lit up a little. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her but he did love to know she was thinking of him.

  ‘Oh, nothing much,’ Guy finally muttered. Trying to get him to open up was like pushing smoke uphill.

  ‘Well, did you study?’

  Guy snorted and shook his head. ‘Nah.’

  ‘Guy, come on,’ Gina pleaded. ‘You know you are capable of so much more. And to be honest, if you don’t start working now, you’re not going to pass the course.’ He didn’t respond. ‘I think I deserve a break here, Guy,’ she snapped, momentarily losing her cool, something no other student could make her do.

  ‘So take one,’ was his all too quick retort.

  She knew he was just trying to make her emotional. He needed the emotional advantage in order to make himself feel equal. And she had to maintain authority, even if sometimes she didn’t want to. The back and forth battle created a tension that made both teacher and student feel more alive. And if Gina were honest, she enjoyed it, but she knew she could not allow it. ‘You know, there was a report of vandalism at the bus depot last night,’ she reluctantly stated, stamping her authority into the conversation.

  ‘You’re suggesting I did it?’ Guy begged. Gina held his gaze resolutely. ‘You doubt me?’

  ‘It’s just a question, Guy.’

  Guy was taken aback. Gina never put the blame on him. She must have been changing her strategy. He tried to remain silent, but the idea of Gina blaming him for something was infuriating. She was the one person who had always had faith in him. Still she was eyeing him questioningly, even demandingly. His face grew red and his lips started to twitch as they did when he felt put-on-the-spot. ‘Well?’ she ordered.

  ‘What?’ Guy spat. ‘I didn’t do shit.’

  Gina jumped in her skin at Guy’s anger, but soon calmed. She trusted him. His aggression was really just a defence mechanism to keep him from getting hurt; she knew that; she was one of very few people who did know that. That was largely why it was hard for Guy to talk to others on a personal level, because whether or not he intended to, he inevitably ended up threatening them. She moved to the other side of the desk and took a seat, if only to put space between them and let him cool off.

  ‘Gina, I’m sorry,’ he offered sincerely. His eyes were held low in shame.

  ‘It’s okay, Guy, but I do need to know if you were involved.’

  ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head, but his blue eyes flared with a tension that was worrying to her. ‘I wasn’t there,’ he pleaded, noticing her doubt. ‘I had a fight.’

  ‘You mean a fight or a fight?’ Gina asked nervously, gripping the edge of the table for support. She eyed him sternly, letting him know she wasn’t going to be pushed over.

  ‘A real fight; at the gym,’ he said, wrapping an arm about his shoulder and massaging the muscle as he tried to stop his anger from rising.

  Gina nodded a cautious understanding, lent back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair as she thought of the best response. She didn’t entirely agree with boxing, but it was certainly better than fighting in the streets. ‘I have another fight this weekend if you want to come,’ Guy offered.

  ‘Really, Guy, I don’t think I should.’

  ‘Why not, you’ve been before?’ He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck to the side. He wondered if she were changing. He always worried Gina would end up thinking the worst of him, like almost everyone else. He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t watch him fight anymore. She used to and she had enjoyed it. Her support had pushed him to get stronger. Gina pursed her lips and nodded her head slowly as she fought for the right words. ‘Yes, and I’m glad, but it wasn’t the right thing to do.’

  He gazed at her quizzically. ‘What do you mean, “right”?’ He clenched his fist. ‘It’s a boxing match, a sport, for God’s sake. Jees, what happened? You lose your soul over the break?’

  Gina folded her arms across her chest and eyed him warningly; she wasn’t about to allow him to speak offensively to her, even if he was upset. ‘No, Guy, but I have a responsibility here at the scho
ol.’

  ‘The fight’s out of school.’

  She smiled. ‘You know, if you would argue about history the way you argue about everything else, I don’t think we’d have much of an issue with your exams.’ She picked a pen up and began tapping it lightly on the table. ‘Now, let’s return to our actual work, shall we?’ she pleaded. Guy held the palm of his hand up as though to say Proceed.

  ‘In ten weeks time you have to retake your Vietnam exam and finish your American History dissertation.’ She paused. ‘Guy, what is it that keeps you coming back to school?’

  Guy fingered his dog tags. Gina swallowed unconsciously.

  ‘I want my mother to....’ His voice died out as his throat thickened. ‘I mean, if she were here. Well....’

  ‘It’s okay, Guy,’ Gina relieved him. ‘What I mean is....’ She paused as her chest thumped, the same way it always did when she thought of Guy succeeding with his work. That one little triumph for her as a teacher and— more importantly even to her—to Guy as a young man instantly sparked all her passion and hope. She bit down hard on her emotions. ‘You can pass these exams, Guy, I know you can. You can succeed, but you have to realise that these exams are important. In ten weeks time, do you want to be proud of what you have accomplished or disappointed in yourself?’

  Guy thought for a moment before whispering, ‘I want to feel good about it all, but....’ His breathing became short. He took a moment to steady himself, cleared his throat, nodded and said, ‘Yeah, I want to feel good, but I’m just not a scholar. I’m a fighter, born and bred.’ He ran his finger down his dog tags. ‘I’m a fighter, like her.’

  ‘She fought because she had to,’ Gina blurted out. She hid her gaze as she suddenly panicked; she rarely spoke directly of Guy’s mother, but something was grabbing at her and she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted so badly to help him come to terms with things. Besides, she wasn’t saying anything he didn’t already know. ‘She was a medic. She only became a medic through studying, Guy. You have to see that there was so much more to her than war; so much more to every—’

  ‘Shut up,’ Guy yelled. He paced up to Gina at the desk, his finger pointing down at her venomously.

  ‘Guy,’ Gina warned. She felt his intense glare upon her like a weight around her neck. She had to fight with all her might to hold her strength and maintain her authority.

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’ He hurled his fist down hard into the table.

  Gina gasped in horror; not because of Guy’s anger, but because he didn’t even feel the pain in his fist. Was he so accustomed to pain he didn’t even notice it anymore? She bit her lip and forced herself to calm down.

  ‘Gina, ‘I’m so sorry.’ Guy pleaded. His tone and expression had suddenly flicked to sympathy and sorrow as he noticed how upset he was making her. ‘I can’t help it.’

  The two of them stood still and silent for several minutes before Gina took a deep breath, sat upright in her chair and said, ‘How about we go over some work?’

  Guy nodded. ‘Okay, that sounds good.’

  Thank God, Gina thought, an easy subject. ‘Right,’ she clapped her hands together, regaining her composure. ‘Here’s what I suggest. I’m going to give you one unit, just one, okay?’ Guy nodded. ‘We’ll go over it now then you revise it, ask me if you are stuck on anything, and then we’ll see how you’re doing next week, okay?’ He nodded again. There was a light in his eyes now, as though the argument had energised him. She didn’t know whether to be glad or upset, but either way, she wasn’t about to waste Guy’s seeming willingness to get some work done. ‘I know you can do this, Guy. Prove it to yourself. Then—’ she paused for thought but finally resolved ‘—if you do this, I’ll come watch you win your fight on Friday. Is that a deal?’

  Guy beamed the most sincere smile he had shown in weeks, and Lord knew it meant the world to Gina. It affirmed to her that she was on the right track, no matter how beaten the path might have been.

  ‘Gina, Kevin is outside.’ Gina turned to see Mrs Haines bent double over her bag, holding a hand to the small of her spine. She was arthritic and suffering from old wounds. ‘He says he needs to talk to you about tonight.’

  Mrs Haines did a double-take when she saw Guy. She looked at the clock then at Gina suspiciously but said nothing. Gina’s eyes glared with concern.

  ‘Okay, Guy,’ she said, trying her best not to stutter. ‘You understand what you have to do?’ She nodded suggestively to Guy. Why did it have to be Mrs Haines? She was such a dragon. Gina could easily gain a reputation if Mrs Haines got the wrong idea about her being in a class alone with Guy. Thankfully, Guy was present to the danger.

  ‘Chapter seven by next class, right?’ he broke in.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, Guy.’ Thank you, she silently whispered.

  ‘Okay, thank you, Mrs Green,’ said Guy, impersonating the bored but aware tones of what Mrs Haines would deem to be better behaved students; the sort she was more likely to accept being alone with a teacher in the classroom. Mrs Haines eyed the textbook on Gina’s table; a rather old and battered text about Vietnam. She stood nodding her head for a few moments, as though involved in a silent conversation with herself, then turned and left. Guy waited a few moments before allowing his good boy smile to fall back into a more sincere frown.

  ‘Go running to your man,’ he muttered bitterly beneath his breath.

  ‘Pardon?’ Gina spat in surprise.

  ‘Nothing,’ Guy said, grabbing his bag and marching off. He stopped just inside the door. ‘Hey, Gina,’ he said, approaching her once more, a new found optimism about him. ‘Will you tell me about yourself sometime? You said about your father....’ He pretended to stutter a little for emotional effect. He sure could be a player when the mood struck him, which was very rarely. ‘I know I shouldn’t really ask but, well, I think it might help to have someone to talk to about emotional stuff, you know?’ He gazed at her with eyes half puppy-dog half boxer. It was a very peculiar and alluring mixture.

  Gina took her time in answering, trying to remain as professional as possible. ‘You know I have commitments to keep here, Guy,’ she reasoned. ‘I can’t just spend all my time with you, much as I might like to. I have obligations. ‘

  ‘You’d like to?’ he repeated cockily.

  ‘Oh no,’ Gina implored, ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant....’ Guy was grinning wildly. Gina opened her desk draw and busied herself with papers. ‘I really must be getting on with work,’ she implored. ‘I have commitments to keep.’

  ‘Well, if it is easier for you, we don’t have to discuss things here, we could—’

  ‘I’m very busy, Guy,’ Gina hurried to interrupt. For all she new, Mrs Haines could still have been within ear shot.

  ‘I just want you to help me feel good in ten weeks, like you said.’

  Gina froze. She was as angry as she was excited. It was clearly against school rules to meet up with a student out of hours, but if it would truly help him to regain his life she knew she would do it. After a moment, Gina took a quick glance out the door to check no one was approaching and said, ‘Look, I can’t promise anything, but—’ she took one last moment to consider the consequences of her actions ‘—come see me in a couple of days. We’ll discuss things.’

  Guy was feeling a rare sense of pride when he left Gina’s classroom and headed into the hall. Not only had he felt a strong connection to Gina¯even stronger than usual¯but he believed he could pass his exams, a confidence he had not felt in months. And if he could just make himself get the work done this week then he’d have Gina all to himself after his boxing match. He bit his lip. He wasn’t supposed to feel as he did about a teacher, he knew that, but Gina was different. She spoke to him like no one else ever had.

  ‘Boss,’ Guy heard a too familiar gruff voice bark like a dog. Naz was standing by his locker. Guy pretended he hadn’t heard him. He prayed Naz would just let him pass. For once he actually wanted to do some work, if only to impress Gina. He turned to face the o
ther way and kept walking.

  Naz slammed his locker closed so loudly Guy couldn’t possibly pretend to have not heard. ‘Sup boss?’ he called again. Guy turned to face him. It was better to keep Naz as a friend than risk him becoming an enemy.

  ‘Hey man, wassup?’ Guy responded.

  ‘Boss, you hitting up the town tonight?’ Naz’s shark-like pearly eyes seemed to gaze right into Guy’s soul.

  Guy huffed. Already he could sense a war coming. ‘Nah, not tonight man. I can’t. You know how it is.’

  ‘Say what?’ Naz eyed him disbelievingly. He sniffed his nose heavily and swallowed. ‘Boy, come out, what da fuck?’

  ‘Sorry bro.’

  ‘Yo don’t be calling me bro, man, not less you be coming out, aint it?’

  ‘I’ve got shit to do.’

  ‘What shit?’ Naz demanded. He liked to pretend he owned everyone else’s business and was less than pleased when he met any resistance.

  ‘Work,’ Guy said sternly. Naz could stamp his feet all he wanted but Guy would never let him walk over him. He was probably the one boy in school who stood his ground against Naz.

  ‘Work, is it?’ Naz spat. He began to fiddle with the large chain necklace he was wearing and looked Guy up and down condescendingly. ‘Boy, what’s your problem?’

  Guy laughed. ‘Chill out, Naz, blud. I’ll be out at the weekend, yeah?’

  ‘Whatever, boss.’ Naz’s eyes flicked with anger. He held his hand up and turned away dismissively. ‘Nah, man. I aint listening.’ He must have presumed Guy was going to submit and apologise, even though Guy hadn’t budged an inch.

  Naz swaggered down the hallway, stopping next to a good looking girl dressed overtly sexually in a short skirt and a white shirt that tightly hugged her breasts. She eyed Naz inquisitively. Naz whispered something to her. She looked less than impressed with him and stormed off in a huff. Naz turned on Guy, his face scrunched up from anger to a point where he was almost dribbling. ‘Twat.’

  Guy blinked in surprise. ‘Yo, what did you just say, blud?’

  Naz shook his head in anger and stormed off.

  ‘Shit,’ Guy bit beneath his breath. He might not have been concerned about Naz, but Naz had friends, friends who would do whatever he asked, not to mention his family. ‘Shit,’ he yelled out loud this time, kicking a huge dent in a nearby locker.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  Guy hadn’t realised it, but Yasmin had been standing just a few feet away, listening in.

  ‘Fuck sake,’ Guy mouthed to himself. Why did Yasmin have to witness his battles? He hated the idea of her being around the likes of Naz. She was such a precious and innocent little thing.

  ‘Nothing, Yasmin, everything’s fine,’ he assured.

  ‘Don’t give me that, Guy.’ She came and laid her bag at his feet. She wasn’t going to go away until she knew he was okay.

  ‘It’s just the same old things, you know.’ He sighed and shook his head.

  ‘Want to talk about it over a coffee?’

  ‘I can’t right now. I have to get some work done.’

  Yasmin raised an eyebrow. ‘Work?’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Guy laughed. ‘Why is everyone so interested in my work?’

  ‘Maybe because I’ve never heard you talk of work before. Good for you.’ She brushed her long brown hair back behind her head. ‘Well, how about we go for a drink tonight? I mean once your work is done, of course.’

  ‘You’ve never seen me work. It’s not a quick process.’ He grimaced.

  ‘Well, I’d better at least see you on Thursday, soldier.’

  ‘What?’ Guy snapped. Yasmin froze. ‘What the hell did you just say?’ She didn’t respond. ‘“Soldier”? Is that supposed to be funny?’ He peered scoldingly into her downturned eyes. ‘You know what, Yasmin, maybe you should mind your own business once in a while, yeah?’

  Yasmin held a hand to her mouth in shock. ‘Guy, you....’ She pursed her lips and shook with sadness. ‘You’ve never spoken to me like that before. What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Guy pleaded, turning his gaze away and massaging his forehead. ‘It’s just... mum,’ he whispered.

  The two stood gazing at each other for several moments before Yasmin broke the silence. ‘It’s okay, Guy, I understand,’ she said, taking his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

  Guy was amazed. ‘You understand?’ Yasmin nodded. She squeezed his hand. It was warm, reassuring. It was human, truly human. He didn’t feel alone. ‘Talk to me about it sometime, okay?’

  Guy measured her sincerity. She truly was better than the rest. He smiled. ‘Yeah, that would be good. I will, sometime.’

  Shattered Families

  Kevin turned the cold tap on in the bathroom of the Green’s home and splashed water across his face. In the mirror his reflection appeared blurred, though that could have been an effect of the drinking he’d partaken of that night. They’d been out for the evening for one of Kevin’s work colleagues’ birthdays and he’d lost count of his drink. Gina didn’t mind; she’d spent half the night laughing at him. She found his colleagues stuffy anyway and seeing him act like a lunatic around them had provided her hours of entertainment. He only hoped his boss felt the same way.

  He took his tie off and unbuttoned his black shirt, folding it across the bathroom door. His foot slipped on a wet patch on the floor and he nearly ended up on his ass but managed to hold himself up by the doorknob. He laughed heartily at himself. Few were the times he was drunk, at least that was what he thought; he had deluded himself into believing he was much better at handling his drink than the average man. ‘That James is a real lightweight, hey, darling?’ he called to Gina. She murmured a response. She was already lying in bed in the next room. ‘I’ve no clue why, but you put a couple drinks in his system and he’s a whole other man.’ He squeezed some facial scrub out the tube, massaged it in his hands and washed his face. ‘I mean really, how can he think stories about writing a nine instead of a six on a colleague’s ledger are funny?’ he continued through the foamy soap. He splashed his face clean and rubbed it dry with a towel. ‘Really, some people’s sense of humour just does not age properly.’

  ‘Yes, darling,’ Gina called back. She sounded tired, or bored, it was hard to tell which, at least when drunk. Kevin tut-tutted. ‘Tired already? And I thought we might have a little fun.’

  Gina muttered something to herself. He couldn’t hear what, but it didn’t sound as exciting as he would have liked. Never mind, he thought; he’d probably had too much to drink anyway.

  ‘And then there’s Jo!’ he said, giving up on his optimism. He turned his electric toothbrush on and began brushing his teeth. ‘I know you like Jo,’ he spluttered, ‘but really, does she ever talk about anything except her family? I mean, how many brothers and sisters does she have?’ He laughed and spat out the toothpaste. ‘And do we really need to see photos of every single building they have ever seen on their never ending journey to wherever the hell they are now?’

  ‘Darling, please be quiet and come to bed,’ Gina pleaded.

  ‘Well now, no need to be like that,’ Kevin said, passing through to the bedroom whilst taking his trousers off. He chucked them straight into the laundry basket. ‘Anyway, I suppose you....’ He froze when he saw that Gina was lying in bed with tears in her eyes. ‘Oh, babe.’ He hurried over and held her in his arms.

  ‘Who cares if Jo’s family are a little nuts and only see life through the camera lens? At least her family isn’t literally falling apart at the seams.’ She held up the torn and tattered pages of the photo album that she had been looking through. She stopped on a picture of an elderly lady sitting in an old rocking chair, only you couldn’t see the lady, her image was too faded; only the chair remained.

  ‘This is the wine talking, darling,’ Kevin assured. ‘Try not to think on it.’

  Gina wiped at her eyes. Kevin reached for a tissue from a box at the end of the bed and h
anded it to her. She dried her eyes. ‘Maybe it is the wine letting these thoughts out,’ she admitted. It had been the first time she’d gotten tipsy in several weeks and the first time she’d gotten upset for about the same period. Then again, Guy and her other students had been relatively quiet the past few days, permitting her an all too rare opportunity to think about herself. Besides, it wasn’t the first time she’d thought with sadness about her past, only she usually didn’t have the time to dwell on it. ‘No,’ she concluded, ‘they’re the same thoughts I repress every day. I mean look’—she tenderly stroked the edge of a beaten page of the photo album—’it’s falling apart, and this book is all I’ve got. The stories in it are the only ones I’ll ever have. That’s it,’ she sobbed. ‘Though, hell, it’s not like I’ve any family left to call me up on it if I make up a few more.’

  Kevin took the photo album from Gina, closed it delicately and placed it on the bedside table. ‘I know this isn’t much consolation,’ he said with loving tenderness, ‘but you can tell as many embarrassing stories about me as you like.’ He squeezed her tightly. ‘And besides, it won’t be long until we’re thinking about starting our own little family, and then we’ll get a new story every day.’ She stroked his thick brown hair and kissed him on the cheek. ‘What would I do without you, Kev?’

  Kevin got into bed and placed her head on his chest. She hugged him like a child would a favourite old teddy, trusting in him and allowing his strength to give her rest. At times she could forget just exactly how supportive he was. At times she took him for granted, but when she felt upset there was no man in the world more loving. Gazing into his eyes, all the pain and longing seemed to melt into nothingness. She felt completely supported with his arms wrapped tightly about her. The edge of his wedding ring was digging in lightly just below her shoulder. She wondered whether it would age through the years, like her and Kevin, or whether it would always feel so new, so promising and so fresh with the memories of their wedding day.

  It had been a simple wedding¯which was precisely what she had wanted¯ at a church near where Kevin’s family lived, with just the two of them, Kevin’s family and a few fellow teachers and friends. It had been the perfect day, she realised: simple and pure in spirit, exactly what she wanted from her marriage. The only thing missing had been her own family.

  She wouldn’t see her family again, she knew that much. It hurt to think about it; she tried not to, but whenever she thought about her future she thought about her past too. She yearned with all her heart for a family. She yearned for the same absolute, unwavering love she had felt for her brother. He was gone, of course, and Kevin was her family now; Kevin and her students; Kevin and Guy. What she wouldn’t give to have those two family members to come together. She hoped they would in time. For now, though, it was her and Kevin, and though she wished she could give all of herself to Kevin and to their future together she just couldn’t manage to move on without looking back in sorrow. The very idea of living for herself made her feel guilty about her past. So it was that she was stuck; not coming or going, just waiting.

  ‘I just wish I had loved ones I could talk to, about us, about school, about all the little things too. Sometimes I get lonely, that’s all,’ Gina explained.

  Kevin’s hold on her loosened. He leaned over and eyed the photo album before turning to Gina and saying, ‘Well then, how about you come with me to my parents this weekend?’ He knew what she was thinking. ‘I’m sure everyone will be fine without you, it is only for one weekend.’ Gina’s fingernails pinched into Kevin’s back in nervous excitement; so few were the times she left home for anything but school, colleagues or students. ‘Hell, you’ve got a phone and a car, what’s the worst that could happen?’ Kevin encouraged.

  Gina closed her eyes and fought to fight back the images of her family that came to mind when she thought of her future and of Kevin’s own family, who were so peaceful and cohesive it made her feel ashamed by comparison. She forced the word ‘Okay’ out of her mouth in a nervous whisper. It felt good. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Kevin asked. He had felt certain she would decline like usual and must have heard the doubt in her voice. ‘I’ll call mum in the morning, she’ll be ever so happy,’ he hurried to say, hoping he could seal the deal before Gina’s concerns got the better of her.

  ‘Sounds wonderful,’ Gina whispered. There was tension in her voice. She was fighting back the painful images flooding her mind.

  ‘It will be great, darling, I promise,’ Kevin assured. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. She smiled. ‘And you know my parents love you.’

  Gina nodded agreeably. ‘Sounds great.’ She turned away from him, deep in thought, and rolled out of bed. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ She took a sweater out the closet, put it on and left the room.

  Presumed Dead

  Through Guy’s dreaming eyes he heard the distant sound of a man sobbing. The same man had been crying for years, Guy realised, but he had blocked out the sound. He had blocked out everything; all his thoughts and visions, all his own tears, even the memories. And now it was all catching up to him. The tears were banging on his door, demanding him to answer. Demanding him to¯

  He sat up in a panic. His eyes shot open, or half open at least. They were veiled by heavy sleep. He picked the crust out of his eyes and fought to regain his vision. He must have been in a very heavy sleep. His head felt heavy, clouded over with dreams; he couldn’t remember what he had been doing. His throat was dry and something was itching at his skin. He took a large gulp of water and cleared his throat.

  Beside him lay the text book on Vietnam Gina had asked him to read. Next to it sat a pen. He must have fallen asleep whilst working. He leant over to see his pad of notes on the floor. He picked it up and put it with the pen and paper on the desk. It was the work that had made him fall asleep, he realised; not from boredom, but rather because every time he read a book on war it brought imaginings of his mother to mind. I’ve never heard you talk of work before, he heard Yasmin saying in his head. Shit, he thought, he’d completely forgotten he was supposed to meet her. He eyed the clock; it was a quarter past ten: too late. He was about to curse himself when he heard his father crying downstairs. What’s he doing? Guy wondered. More worrying still was the fact that Jerry had either gone mad and was speaking to himself or he had someone over late at night. Who? Jerry never invited anyone over. Guy needed answers.

  ‘Shit,’ he spat as he leapt out of bed and once again nearly fell flat on his back. I’ve really got to sort this mess out one day, he thought. He cautiously pulled the door open, so as to not make a sound, and stepped out.

  Guy’s father was continuing to chat to himself as Guy gradually crept downstairs; he didn’t want to be heard, he wanted to know what was going on, who his father could possibly have over at this hour.

  ‘It’s not the same,’ his father was muttering through tears. ‘I could never look after him as well as you did.’ Guy heard a bottle being placed on a surface. No doubt his dad was drunk again. He’d fallen for the bottle after Imogen had left. Struggling with the pain of memories every day, it was too easy for him to give in to drink. ‘No... I... he really misses you. He needs a mother.’ Who the hell is he talking to? Guy begged to know. He stopped in his tracks when Jerry suddenly gasped in surprise. Was he in trouble? Guy listened. ‘I know, I know,’ he sobbed. ‘Yes, I know. I should forgive myself. You’re right, I think, but that isn’t how he sees it.’ He was weeping out loud now.

  Mum? Guy whispered to himself. It couldn’t be. She’d been gone fifteen years. Guy froze in fright when his father said, ‘Imogen, I can’t cope without you,’ and began to weep. Guy nearly collapsed. He hadn’t even realised his father was carrying so much pain with him. He cursed himself. How could he be so hurtful? How many nights had his father sat alone for hours whispering to the memory of his mother? How blind had he been? He turned his face away in shame. He felt he’d no right to look, yet he couldn’t
bring himself to stop listening.

  ‘You see,’ Jerry continued, ‘I only ever thought of what was best for us, not you, not my darling.’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘Bandages?’ he quizzed. ‘He never fell off again.’

  Guy was half angry, half sad. He wanted to be there for his father, but a part of him felt his father had no right to cry. It had been his fault, after all, hadn’t it? He began creeping down the stairs once more. He felt he had to see his dad, to see the sincerity of his emotions. He couldn’t turn away. He crept closer to the door and peered through the gap.

  ‘Do you think he would be okay with that?’ Jerry continued. He took a tissue from the table and silently blew his nose. ‘I know you do, and I shall always remember you, my darling. I just wish we could have had some closure, that we could have seen you one last time.’ Closure? Guy repeated, wonderingly. ‘I mean to not know....’ Guy’s skin turned cold as though he’d seen a ghost. ‘To question whether you were truly gone.’ Guy jumped in horror and ran up the stairs.

  Jerry had obviously heard movement as he weakly called, ‘Who’s there?’ Hearing no answer he fell back into his chair and wept.

  Guy moved straight for the shoebox above his head and emptied the contents, frantically looking for one letter in particular, one his dad had no idea he had taken. His heart skipped a beat when he found the envelope with the governmental seal. He was terrified of the letter. He’d never actually read it. He’d never dared to, but now there was no choice.

  Mr. Cormun

  The Secretary of Defence expresses his deep regret that your wife, Major Imogen Cormun, has been reported missing in action since 16th August over....

  The name of the area she had been serving in was illegible. It was the one part of the letter to be damaged. The letter finished,

  Please rest assured that we are doing all we can in our power to discover the whereabouts of Major Imogen Cormun. If further details or other information is received you shall be promptly notified.

  Sincerely Yours,

  H.I Manson Abj.Gen.

  That was all? Guy read the letter again. Secretary of Defence... Imogen Cormun... Missing.... What did they mean she was missing? She was dead. How was dead missing? Dead wasn’t missing. Clearly the two were not the same. He bit his tongue. What had happened? Dear God, what had happened? His eyes were staring in terror at the word ‘Missing.’

  Suddenly consumed by fierce determination, Guy threw the door open, ran downstairs to the kitchen, where his father was taking a glass of water, slammed the letter on the table and yelled, ‘Read it. Read it.’ He was breathing shallowly. His face was red. His father looked at him in fright. He didn’t say anything, but just stood there gawking at him. Guy shoved him aside, grabbed his black hoodie and marched out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Guy couldn’t see through the night sky, but thankfully he knew all too well where he was heading. He was heading to his crutch.

  The bus station depot was pitch black when he entered. He could only make out the giant brick-like black blocks of buses. He knew Naz and Mikey would be in one of them. He stormed straight through the centre of the depot. He didn’t even care that the light was on in the security office. The old security man wasn’t about to stop him anyway.

  Naz and Mikey were on the top floor of a double decker bus when Guy found them. Naz had a knife in hand and was slashing apart the fabric of one of the chairs. At seeing Guy he jested, ‘So, Guy, you finally made it into Mrs Green’s pants yet?’

  Guy ignored him. ‘I need a hit,’ he ordered.

  ‘Oh you a big man now, eh?’ Naz spat back.

  ‘Naz, just give me a hit. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just give it to me.’

  Even Naz wasn’t about to argue with Guy this time. Guy’s face was venomous, transfixed.

  ‘Yah, yah, okay, whatever you want, boss,’ Naz said, passing over a spliff. Guy inhaled deeply.

  ‘What’s going on, blud?’ Naz asked. His face was about as concerned as Guy had ever seen it. He was still angry and bitter, but somewhere in the mesh of hatred was a glimmer of genuine care.

  ‘Nothing man.’

  ‘Sit down, man. Come. Smoke. Smoke.’ Naz was about to sit when the security search light switched on and a door squeaked open.

  ‘Fuck, the guard, what does he want?’ Naz yelled, jumping up and running down to the lower level of the bus. Guy and Mikey followed behind.

  By the time Guy reached the lower level, the security guard was virtually at the bus. They couldn’t possibly make a run for it. They only had two choices: physically stop the old man from dobbing or end up at the station. Guy didn’t have to question which option Naz would take.

  ‘Come on then, old man,’ Naz jeered, stepping off the bus and advancing on the security guard with his arms wide open, begging the old man to hit him. He laughed menacingly. ‘Look at this old cripple. What the fuck are you gonna do, eh, old man?’ His eyes were wide with lust for his prey. If there was one thing Naz loved, it was inspiring fear in others.

  Realising he was outnumbered and in no physical condition to defend himself, the old man tried to back away, but Naz wasn’t about to let him off so easy.

  ‘Nah, nah, don’t be running, boy,’ Naz heckled. ‘You want a piece of me, huh?’

  ‘He doesn’t want a piece of you, Naz, it’s all cool,’ Guy pleaded in as cool a voice as he could muster.

  ‘You got an issue with me, boy?’ Naz continued. He always thought everyone had an issue with him. Guy knew what that felt like. When you were as full of self hatred as Naz was, it seemed everyone was your enemy; your own hate for yourself spilled over onto everyone else, and if you were Naz that meant you had to bring them down with force. ‘Come on, old man. I don’t bite,’ he mocked.

  Guy stepped closer to Naz. ‘Dude, what the fuck?’ he spat. ‘Back off him.’

  The gleam in Naz’s eyes had twisted into a frenzied, focused hatred. Anger had possessed him. He flicked his knife out and stabbed it towards the old man, not hitting him, just scaring him.

  ‘Naz, get the fuck off him,’ Guy ordered. ‘He aint done shit.’

  The guard was cowering in fear, holding a pair of shaking hands up to his wrinkled and saggy face in an attempt to protect himself. Naz snapped the old man’s arms aside and punched him right in the jaw. He fell down in a pathetic heap, landing in a puddle on the ground. As he impacted, the rain water leapt up off the ground, splashing onto Guy. The ground shuddered, emitting a guttural rumble. Guy planted his feet firmly on the ground against what felt like an earthquake. Then a huge torrent of water suddenly exploded out of the puddle, creating a pillar. It reached high into the sky, a great wave licking the clouds. Then, to Guy’s horror and wonder, he saw that there was a figure in the centre of the wave; a human figure, standing at ground level and facing him. Guy wondered for a moment just what exactly he had been smoking. His face was drenched in sweat. He blinked several times, trying to regain his sense of reality, but the vision of the figure in the water remained. Not only that, but it stepped forward. A leg stepped right out of the torrent of water. It was dressed in military slacks and thick black boots, and judging by its size it belonged to a woman.

  The figure stepped forward again, this time revealing its chest. It was thin but athletic and clearly female, for the top curved outwards in two breasts, the left of which was adorned with various medals.

  Finally, the lady’s face was revealed. It was soaking wet, her hair stuck heavily to her head. Her face was pale but strong looking. Two very bright green eyes were glaring directly at Guy. He gulped in fear.

  ‘Mum?’ he begged. He collapsed onto one knee. ‘Mum?’ His face was screwed up in a combination of terror and awe.

  Imogen took a step forward and leant over Guy. Her face was the most beautiful he had ever seen. He was mesmerised by it. Was it really her? Finally she spoke.

  ‘Get off the boat or I will kill you myself.’ Her voice lacked all love; it was firm, har
sh, militant and terrifying.

  Guy gasped. His face was growing wet as water splashed from Imogen onto him. He could not find it in himself to move.

  ‘Get off the boat or I will kill you myself,’ she boomed once more.

  Imogen waited for a moment, standing erect and towering over Guy as though he were a small child. Then she resolutely turned to the side, pulled an old pistol from her belt and pointed it directly at Guy’s head, so close that all he could see was the barrel. As she pulled the trigger, Guy leapt up and ran at Naz. He had lost his mind. He was incensed. He punched Naz straight in the face, knocking him to the ground.

  Naz spat blood out of his mouth and eyed Guy as though he would kill him right there and then, not that Guy cared.

  Naz wiped some blood onto his finger and slowly licked it as though he were testing it. With a wobble he rose back to his feet. He raised his finger, pointing at Guy. ‘You,’ he whispered with such hatred it were as though he had been possessed by some demon, ‘you’ll get yours. You are dead. You understand? Dead.’ He turned and ran off, Mikey following slowly behind him.

  The old man was still down on the ground, clutching at his face. He had cut his eye when he had fallen and his breathing was quick and shallow.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Guy said, kneeling down beside the old man. He looked up for any sign of aid only to find that Imogen was now knelt down several metres in front of him, mirroring his pose, and she, in turn, was holding a hand to a downed man. Guy couldn’t see his face but he was dressed in uniform. Imogen was applying a bandage to his neck.

  In the background, Guy could hear gunshots and explosions. He had no clue what was going on, whether it was the result of what he had smoked or whether he had just gone mad with it all. He turned back to the old man. He would deal with the visions later.

  ‘What should I do?’ Guy humbly asked the old man. He gave him the once over. His legs looked as though they had been hit by a bus, they were draping lifelessly across the ground. His grey hair was covered in sweat and the top of his jacket was coated with blood. A badge on his chest read, ‘Security Officer: Mick Trent.’

  ‘Well,’ Mick coughed into his hand. ‘You might want to sort your social life out,’ he laughed, wheezing heavily. ‘Come on, get me up off this bloody concrete. I need a damn good cup of tea and then some, I reckon.’

  Guy laughed politely, though he was scared to death for the old security guard. ‘No, really, do you want me to call a doctor?’ He put an arm around Mick and helped him to his feet.

  ‘Don’t you worry about me,’ Mick wheezed. ‘You’d be surprised how strong we oldies really are.’

  Guy nodded, not wanting to offend the old man. ‘You want to go in there,’ he said, pointing to the security office.

  ‘I suppose I’d better, yes, though it seems I’m not really cut out for this job anymore.’

  Guy didn’t respond, but took the old man’s weight and carried him back to the office.

  ‘Why do you associate yourself with such bastards?’ Mick bluntly asked. Guy didn’t know how to answer. ‘You’ve no respect, that’s what it is.’

  Guy stopped in his tracks. ‘I have no respect?’ he repeated in shock.

  ‘You, them, hell, pretty much the whole youth of today, no bloody respect,’ Mick sighed. The door to the security office had banged shut and was locked. ‘Take the key from my belt,’ Mick wheezed.

  Guy detached a large ring of keys from Mick’s belt and began rifling through them.

  ‘It’s the red one,’ Mick said, pointing with a knobbly finger to one of the smaller keys. Guy shuffled the keys around and popped out the one Mick had indicated. With a bit of a fight, the door clicked and Guy yanked it open.

  ‘Light’s on the left there.’

  The room was dusty and dank when Guy switched on the lights. The corner of the door was covered in a cobweb. ‘You have to work here?’ he said, brushing the cobweb aside with his hand.

  ‘Oh yeah, this is fine. Fine for me, this is,’ Mick stated with pride, as though he were making a point. He indicated to an old office chair in front of a monitor on which various views of the bus station were flashing on and off. Guy helped him hobble over and sit down.

  ‘Where’s the kettle?’ Guy asked.

  ‘Just at the back there and there are clean mugs in the cupboard at the top.’

  Guy set to making the tea. The kettle was so old its silver polish had virtually turned black with burn marks, and there wasn’t any sugar.

  ‘This is no place for you to be working,’ Guy muttered, more to himself than the old man, though he got a response anyway.

  ‘This?’ The old man laughed. ‘Good Lord, you really have no clue, do you? This is luxury compared to some places I’ve worked in, let me tell you. Even served in the war, did I.’ He slapped his hand down on the table with pride for his work space.

  Guy’s eyes had suddenly lit up at the mention of war and the possibility that the old man might be willing to share his stories. ‘Did you see combat?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I saw my fair share and shan’t ever forget it, mark my words. Terrible thing is a war; terrible thing.’ The old man lowered his head as though praying. Guy turned away respectfully.

  On a counter beside the sink sat a photo of Mick in younger days. He was fishing from a small boat on a large lake. He looked like he had worked out. He wasn’t ripped or particularly big, but he was certainly fit looking.

  ‘Wasn’t always so old,’ Mick muttered melancholically.

  Guy brought the tea over and handed it to him.

  ‘Thank you.’ The old man took a sip and smiled. ‘That’s a good cup of tea, that.’

  ‘How come you have to work here if you fought in the war?’ Guy asked.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Mick rubbed at his chin in confusion and eyed Guy as though he were mad. ‘I have to make a living, don’t I?’

  Guy eyed him quizzically. ‘You don’t have a pension?’

  ‘A pension?’ the old man spat. ‘Yeah I got a bloody pension, and I suppose you think I could live off of such pittance, ay? That would be a luxury, let me tell you; bloody life of Riley that would be, wouldn’t it? Holy shit, son.’ He spluttered a sardonic laugh and slurped his tea. ‘You’re off in fairyland. We get next to nothing for our years of service. I tell you, the government treats us no better than that friend of yours just did outside.’

  ‘Oh, he is no friend of mine.’

  ‘Ay, well, you say that now,’ the old man pointed a finger, ‘but you came here with him, didn’t you?’

  Guy knew there was no answer to that. He reluctantly nodded his head.

  ‘Exactly; you’re all here, no bloody respect, smashing up these buses. It’s a disgrace. You’ve no sense of honour, that’s your problem.’

  ‘Oh, I have honour,’ Guy argued.

  ‘Oh really? Then how come you come here and smash up my buses?’ he barked angrily. His mouth was hanging open. His tongue was curled over as though it were damaged and he was dribbling a little on his chin. ‘How come you’re with those other two? Look, look,’ he pointed to his cut eye. It pained Guy to look. His frail skin had been completely torn apart. Guy felt sick in the pit of his stomach. ‘I fought in the war for kids like you and this is the thanks I get.’

  ‘You’re not the only one,’ Guy muttered beneath his breath. He looked into the eyes of the old man, hoping to see signs of camaraderie. ‘I lost family to war.’

  ‘Right, then,’ the man said, jabbing his finger at Guy, ‘you should know better than that, cause we’re all the same, we soldiers.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We’re one, we soldiers. That’s the fighter’s mentality: all one. That bastard you’re here with hits me...?’ He pointed to the ground outside where Naz had attacked him. His chin was thrust forward, letting Guy know he wasn’t afraid to get hurt to stand up for what he believed in. ‘Well, he might as well have hit your family members too. It’s the same bloody thing.’

  Gu
y remembered the vision. Maybe that’s what it had meant, that though Naz was hitting the old man, he was really hitting Imogen too and everything she stood for.

  ‘Yeah, you had better think on that, my son,’ the old man pointed out, noticing the change in Guy’s mood. ‘I tell ya, behaviour like that is a God damn insult to everything your family stood for.’ The old man shuffled back in his chair nervously. ‘Oh, now you’re gonna hit me, are ya?’ He pointed to his chin. ‘Go on then, hit me. I aint scared of you.’

  Guy hadn’t realised it, but he had clenched his fist in anger. ‘No, I’m not...’ he stuttered. He started tapping his fingers in irritation. ‘It’s not you I want to hit,’ he barked, slamming his hand down on the table.

  ‘What?’ the old man drooled in confusion. Then his eyes flicked with recognition and he relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, I see. Well, don’t you go getting yourself into trouble, son.’

  ‘My name’s Guy.’ He offered the old man his hand. His face was wrought with guilt. ‘I’m sorry for everything.’

  The old man shook his hand. ‘These things happen, Guy.’

  ‘Yeah, well they shouldn’t.’

  Mick sighed then coughed feebly into his hand. ‘Who’s going to stop it? You?’

  ‘I can stop him,’ Guy stated arrogantly. ‘Don’t you doubt that, I’d kick his ass.’ He’d gotten his back up. His chest was raised, his arms flexed. He wanted to prove himself.

  ‘You can’t get through to people like that,’ the old man explained.

  ‘I can,’ Guy insisted.

  ‘You’ll just get yourself in trouble is all.’ The old man fell silent when Guy leapt up and stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him.