Jimmy

We’re running down the narrow path behind Tight Wad Hill, heading towards the part of The Bay where you can look out onto the water and see the ships come in, unloading their goods and participating in what my Grandpa calls “the beginning of the end of Berkeley”
That’s what I’m doing with my Dad on one of his rare days off, racing down to The Bay to try to beat the ships there first thing in the morning. It’s been snowing, so our feet are sodden and our faces read with the icy wind. I’m desperately clinging to the bobble hat on my head, in fear that it will slide from my person as our pace increases and the water draws closer. Dad is behind now, since he has to carry the sled he has promised to drag me around on once we reach The Bay. I slip down the hill, my old boots having no grip on the smooth surface of the snow. When finally I reach the bottom, I find myself alone looking out onto the water and soaked through.

“Morning Jimmy” a haggard old man calls out
Everyone knows us, since my Dad has lived in Berkeley all his life. He slides down the slope, places his hands upon my skinny shoulders and steers me away from the old man.

“You keep away from that guy Jimmy” he tells me

I never find out why, what the man has done to deserve my father’s apparent coldness and distrust. I don’t care though, too full of excitement and bubbling anticipation at the snow and sheer pleasure of childhood. Grabbing the sled, I leap onto its strong wooden surface and allow myself to be pulled around The Bay until my Dad collapses onto the ground. He is level with me now, his eyes dark and laughing as he surveys me for a moment. My heart is hammering with pleasure, my fingers numb and swollen with the cold and effort of gripping the sled’s rope tightly.

“You like?” my Dad asks, as though he cannot tell from my expression

I don’t reply right away, I look out onto the water and smile to myself. It is beginning to freeze over, the ships dwindling away from Berkeley for the remainder of the winter. This is where I want to stay forever, sitting on the sled and having my Dad smiling at me like I am the most important person in the world.

Yet I know today is the final day I will have this feeling. That the beginning of the end has arrived and that this is the last time I will ever feel so blissfully happy and content. I decide not to dwell on it, instead just savouring every moment of the scene which is unfolding all too quickly…

“We all thought you were dead” Tunny whispered, “We came running down from Gilman and saw you lying there and thought that was it”

Even two weeks later, panic was evident in his voice. He was perched on the edge of one of the hospitals orange plastic stools, the chains on his trousers clanging loudly against its metal legs. Concern etched in his round face, he smiled at me shakily.

“I’m not going anywhere” I said in the cheeriest voice I could muster, “Haven’t got any plans
to die in the near future”

We both know this isn’t true, but we are discrete enough not to reproach or labour this point. Tunny knew as well as I did that what happened was no accident, and while I perhaps did not have plans to take my own life, there were no guarantees that the party responsible for attacking me would not return with a vengeance. To this day, I don’t know why I was chosen of all the people down at the Bay. I had only gone down to relieve precious childhood memories, unlike many who infiltrated the area simply to provoke fear and anger amongst local residents. I’d been standing at the waters edge, staring out into its glistening surface when I’d felt the sudden jolt of pain against the back of my neck. Like a fool, I hadn’t taken the opportunity to run whilst I was still able to stand. I had stared into the eyes or my assailant, hoping to find some reason behind his motives. I had seen none. The oldest who had struck me was in his twenties, his face pale and scared. His accomplices were younger, barely the age of my brother Aiden and with eyes that clearly revealed they had seen too much in their short lives. I pleaded with them silently, my expression one of sympathy and longing for them to understand what they were doing to me. They stared back, their faces cold and emotionless as one reached into his grubby coat for the bat they would use to hammer into my head until I was no longer conscious.

“You know who did it?” Tunny asked, running his hands through his dishevelled hair

He’s asked the same question every day since it happened.

“Nope” I replied, leaning back in the bed.

I did not bother to elaborate on this response. The day was hot and my head ached from the numerous wound inflicted on it. For the first time since I could remember, I wished that Tunny was not with me.

“You have to tell the police” he went on, “Give them a description or something”

The idea was not appealing. Somehow it would have felt wrong. Me, someone who had been involved with the police on more than one occasion before, informing them that a man was loose in the area using two small boys as his personal hit men. I could hardly bear to begin stringing the words together, knowing I would have found myself in tears by the end of it.

“Have you seen Rachel?” I asked Tunny to divert the conversation away from its unpleasant direction, “She hasn’t been in to visit”

He nodded, his hair flopping in front of his eyes.

“Yeah” he said softly, “I saw her yesterday. She was asking after you”

I knew this was either a vicious fabrication or a small segment of what had clearly been a more complicated conversation. Tunny’s face was pursed, giving away the fact that he was hiding something.

“And…” I prompted

His head bowed, he mumbled into his lap.

“She’s leaving” he muttered

There was a horrendous ringing in my ears suddenly as my battered brain attempted to process this information. “Leaving” could mean any number of things. Leaving school, something I had done at the first given opportunity. Leaving home, buying her own flat and us finally having a place we could be together and call home. Or perhaps, as I was beginning to suspect, it was none of these options. From the tone of Tunny’s voice I could tell it was not a desirable situation.

“Leaving?” I croaked feebly

“For Canada, her Mum’s met a man who lives out there” he replied

Pain ripped through my chest that had noting to do with my injuries. I was overcome with an uncontrollable urge to punch someone, and would have done so had I not had a drip in one arm and the other in plaster. Water appeared to be rushing within me, a foul bubbling pit which made my insides run cold and covered every inch of my body in goose bumps.

“I’m sorry Jimmy” Tunny said slowly, “Look, she’ll come and say goodbye I’m sure”

Every plan I had made in the previous two years had been centred on Rachel. My life revolved around her, and I could not picture a future without her. I threw the white hospital covers from my person and struggled to my feet.

“What are you doing” Tunny asked, stunned, “Get back in bed Jimmy”

Rummaging in the bag my mother had deposited for me at the hospital reception, without even asking if I was still alive, I found my Misfits shirt and pulled it over my bare, bruised chest.

“Where do you think I’m going” I said indistinctly, “I’m going to find Rachel and see what’s going on”

Embarrassing tears had begun to trickle down my face, my breathing shallow as I gulped them back. I rubbed at my black eyes furiously, hoping Tunny had not noticed. I had known his most of my life; he was really more of a brother to me than anyone else. My mother, the woman who openly despised me once remarked while intoxicated that Tunny was like her adopted child. Aiden looked at me then, as she hugged Tunny drunkenly until he was gagging, silently begging me to make her look upon him the same way. Yet despite this, Tunny had never seen me cry. I wasn’t about to change that. Barging past him, I choked back further tears.

Once out in the open of the disinfectant reeking hospital corridors, I ran my fingers delicately over the tattoo I’d had inked into the skin over my heart only months before. Rachel had the same design traced carefully onto her back, symbolising our closeness and plans for the future. I was a deep red grenade, heart shaped and a pin drawn delicately inside its warm surface. Suddenly I thumped myself hard in the chest, punching the grenade tattoo and letting out a long wounded howl as pain surged through it.

“Are you alright” a passing nurse asked

She clearly thought I was some kind of lunatic, staring at me anxiously as though I was a dangerous dog about to bite any moment. I hurried past her, feeling like my head was on the verge of exploding. Everything within me seemed to be banging with fear and pain as I stepped out into the car park of Berkeley’s Bay Hospital. The harsh light stung at my swollen eyes, the heat of the summer almost overwhelming. There was a rank of taxis waiting, presumably to take patients home or provide an expensive mode of transport for visitors. I wondered for a moment how much money the drivers made from the misfortune and illness of others resulting in demand for transportation. It filled me with a curious loathing, and I found myself turning away from them and half stumbling to the nearest bus stop. It was perhaps not the wisest of decisions, considering the state I was in. Blood seeped slowly from the stitches in my head which I had somehow managed to burst in my confusion and anguish. I allowed the garish red substance to trail down my neck and onto my Misfits shirt as I watched for the bus I hoped on some level would never come.

I am sitting on the padded, broad comfortable chairs outside the principal’s office, Rachel’s hand clutched tightly in my own. She seems to believe I need reassurance, though in fact I am full of blissful happiness I haven’t felt since I was a child. I have the paperwork on my lap, crumpled and crush and covered in Aiden’s scribbling. He’s copied the anarchy symbols which decorate my clothing and the town’s walls, shakily crayoning them on the white surface.

“Are you scared?” Rachel asks me

I ponder this. I’m not a bit scared that today I will walk out of Pinole Valley High School never to return, never to suffer the monotony of life within its walls again. I am however scared of going home and explaining the situation to my mother. Not because she will be angry that I have hotfooted it out of school at the first opportunity, but because I dread the emotionless reaction I am aware I will be met with. She’ll stare at me with contempt, removing her eyes from the television for only a moment. And it’s the prospect of this coldness that frightens me more than the looming uncertain future I am about to embark on.
And then my name is called out and Rachel’s arms are around me, hugging me tightly and she’s telling me that she will be waiting for me when I come out, like I am going to prison or something. I step inside the principal’s office, all too familiar from the endless line of occasions where I found myself in trouble. The chair placed before her desk is plastic, hard and uncomfortable as I sit in it purposefully.

“Ah” she says, “Jimmy”

She doesn’t say anything else, and I pass her the necessary paper work in silence. My heart is hammering, counting down the minutes I have left remaining in the school I have despised since I became a pupil. She barely glances at it, her long nails balancing it at arms length, as though Aiden’s drawing will come to life and inflict anarchy on her very office.

“Everything seems to be in order” she said, her face twitching as though there is an
unpleasant smell under her nose, “I do not think there is anything left to see”

She dismisses me with a wave of her hand, signalling the end of my education. I smile at this new found freedom as I push open the door and Rachel throws her arms around me.

“We’ll be alright” she says tearfully, trying to reassure herself more than anything

I’m hugging her hard, breathing in her sweet, familiar scent and savouring this moment of perfect peace before the principal comes out for the next unfortunate soul to venture into the depths of her office. Before I know what’s happening, Rachel is sobbing into my chest, the dampness seeping through into the tenderness of where I had the grenade inked on my skin only days previously. Its disconcerting seeing her cry like this, she’s tougher than anyone I know. My arms are round her, but I have no idea what to do or say. I don’t know why she’s crying, perhaps because she envies the freedom and lack of restrictions I now will be free to enjoy. Strangely, I am no longer filled will the joy I expected to embrace when I finally left Pinole Valley. I am filled with a deep and powerful guilt, knowing that I am inadvertently responsible for her grief.

“I’m not sad I’m leaving” I croak truthfully

It really is the truth. Its not sadness which has replaced my joy, more an engulfing numbness, as though it is happening to someone separate. Davey Halock skirts past us, in the top form and proudly showing off the Head Boy badge he has pinned on his blazer.

“Leaver?” he asks with smug interest

Something inside me stirs. I hit him…

Stepping off the bus, I stared around at the familiar streets of the Bay area. My friends names were scrawled in spray-paint on the walls, my steps small so as not to aggravate the now burning pain which tore through my body. I wondered what would happen when the hospital discovered me missing. Imagining the conversation which would occur if the contacted my Mum, I smirked to myself. I shuffled gingerly along the waters edge, knowing precisely where to look for Rachel. It was our special meeting place, and had been since I had known her. A small, damp abandoned hut hidden by the scraggly bushes surrounding it. I pushed open the crumbling door and edged inside.

She was curled up in a corner, her knees drawn up under her chin and trembling all over. Her eyes tight shut; she seemed to be in great pain. I dropped onto the filthy floor beside her, feeling an alarming urge for fresh tears to surface at the sight of her. She seemed somehow smaller than I remembered, and more fragile than I’d ever known. I slipped my arms around her, feeling my heart thump with love.

“You’re really leaving?” I asked, still praying that Tunny had made some kind of mistake

She did not respond, instead pulling at my Misfits shirt to expose the heart grenade tattoo on my chest. Stroking in gently through her tears, she clung to me desperately.

“You can’t leave me” I said pathetically, “You have to stay”

My voice was whiney, like that of a spoilt child which cannot get its own way. I sounded like Aiden, and for a moment I wished I was. He was only five, still at the stage where school meant little more to him than afternoons spent peacefully spreading paint over paper and digging in the sand trays. His relationships did not stretch beyond the playground debates of who was who’s best friend and therefore was permitted to share their crisps. His world was uncomplicated and simple, and I longed for a similar existence.

“I’d give anything to stay” she whimpered indistinctly, “But my mum’s decided. This guys she’s met has a house out there, he’s invited us to stay with him. She’s so happy; she’s decided this is our fresh start”

Suddenly, I found my mind had flipped to thoughts I cannot control. I picture this man, whoever he is, that is ripping my life apart. I see myself tearing the skin from his bones, burying his body in his pristine garden and washing the blood from my hands in his en suit bathroom. I didn’t mean for disturbing, violent thoughts to infiltrate my head, it was a reaction I had never understood or become accustomed to. Without warning, Rachel gasped in horror.

“You’re bleeding” she said worriedly, gently stroking away some of the blood that was coating my face. The wound in my head was stinging as sweat hit it, the stitches feeling loose as though I had burst every one.

“You should still be in hospital” she told me as though I was not already aware of this.

I wanted to tell her so much, that I didn’t care if I bleed to death so long as we spent every last precious moment together, but I couldn’t force myself to form the words. With a final, desperate stab at holding everything that mattered together, I made a suggestion.

“Don’t go” I begged, “Let’s leave the Bay together, we’ll run away. I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together”

There was a moment of sensibility, as her mind formed the conclusion that we had little money and no way of supporting ourselves should we decide to run away. But the sense of this argument was soon defeated by the heartbreaking possibility that we were approaching out final days together.

“You’d leave your mum and Aiden for me?” she whispered in disbelief.

However, I was aware that she knew as well as I did that my mother would not miss me in the slightest. Aiden was another matter entirely though, and the idea of hugging him hard and revealing to him that he would be forced to endure our mother’s erratic behaviour and violent temper alone was almost to much to bear.

“Yeah” I replied, “You know I would, I’d do anything for you”

A man I don’t think I have ever met is leading me down a seemingly endless corridor. With startlingly white walls whose colourlessness seems to be burning into my eyes. I have my skateboard tucked under one arm, battered and scratched from one to many crashes.

“I can’t believe it” the man says to no one in particular, “Nerve of the woman, calling me up and telling me to pick you up. Told her I wanted nothing to do with…”

He stops suddenly, and looks at me with uncharacteristic pity. I can’t stand it, and edge away from him.

“Did your mum just leave you then” he asks

I fix my gaze on the ground, not wanting to look into his grey eyes. He is older than I thought, his face etched with wrinkles and his nose red, presumably from drinking.

“You don’t hold a grudge do you kid”, he says, “I mean, it wasn’t ever a permanent thing, me and your mum. I couldn’t believe it when she called me up to say she was having my kid and to come and fetch you to meet your brother”

“He’s only my half brother” I retort, wishing Aiden was of no relation to me at all.

I haven’t even clapped eyes on him yet, but from this strange man, his father, he does not sound like a desirable individual. I’m starting to remember the mans tired, croaky voice from a morning almost a year ago. I had awoken to find him hanging off the balcony, legs flailing and begging my mum to pull him to safety. It’s odd to think that she must have been pregnant with the brother I was about to meet as his father dangled there, even though she didn’t know it at the time.

“I can’t be a dad” he mutters, addressing thin air again, “I don’t want to be drawn into all this”

We reach the room we were directed to and the man raps the door softly, as though hoping he will not be heard. A shrill cry is echoing from within, indicating we have to enter. He pushes open the door slowly, and I step inside to find my mum sitting up in bed and a strange howling bundle in some kind of see through contained beside her.

“Is that Aiden?” I ask stupidly

Her eyes swivel past me to the man who picked me up from the empty, lonely flat He stands hovering in the doorway, scratching his bald head nervously.

“Look” he is saying, “I’ve brought Jimmy down to see you like I said, but I can’t stop”

A rare moment of compassion flickers through mum’s expression as she glances as Aiden lying crying his uncomfortable looking enclosure.

“Don’t you want to see your son” she asks

The man edges further out of the room

“I’m sorry” he’s saying, “I can’t hang around playing happy families, he’s nothing to do with me”

And all at once he is gone and mum is sobbing and Aiden is screaming as though he understands what has just happened. I’ve never been able to communicate with my mum, so I focus my attention on Aiden. He is smaller than I pictured, red from screaming and bears no resemblance to his father, the man who has just raced down the corridor and out into the car park although being perused by a particularly fierce rhinoceros. And before I know what is happening I am reaching into the container and lifting my brother into my arms. He splutters, still wailing nosily.

“What the fuck are you doing?” mum shouts

I don’t take any notice.

“Just looking at him” I mumble dreamily

I’m doing a lot more than looking; I’m promising my brother the impossible inside my head. I’m silently assuring him that I’ll never let him be a victim of our mother’s temper, that he’ll have all the opportunities I’ve missed out on. That I’ll never leave him, the way everyone else seems to…

Aiden stared up at me, his eyes wide and filled with tears which had begun to fall down his face. He watched my every move, as though attempting to create a lasting impression of me. I wanted more than anything to pick him up and hold him close, and tell him that I’ll never leave him. But as I crammed my possessions into a backpack and recalled Rachel’s body shuddering with tears I knew I had no alternative. He was clutching the door handle fearfully, his lip trembling furiously as his mind processed the future he was going to be forced to face without me. I was filled with a ravaging guilt as my eyes met his and I struggled not to cry myself.

“Your head’s bleeding” he told me, probably just to fill the crushing silence that had infiltrated the flat

I rubbed it the blood absent-mindedly, averting my glance from my brother. Fear was pumping throughout my body, thoughts of the uncertainty I would be entering and the thought of Aiden alone with our mum causing my stomach to stir unpleasantly.

“You’re really leaving me?” he asked, his voice cracking with the effort of attempting to hold back tears, “you’re not coming back”

Wresting the straining zip of my rucksack, I stared around, taking a final look at the flat that had been my home all my life. I had so few possessions I considered worth taking, yet photographs of myself and Aiden had been among the first I had shoved into my bag. I wanted to tell him this, explain how much I would miss him and how abandoning him was tearing me apart. But I couldn’t even find the words to justify it in my own head, let alone the words to explain it to a five year old.

“I have to” I whispered simply

He ran to room we shared, and I heard a several clunks and rattles before he reappeared, something clutched tight in his sticky fist.

“It’s my money, I’ve been saving” he whispered, “You can have it for your new house”

He pressed several dollar bills and a handful of coins into my hand. I felt my eyes well up with tears as his innocent face peered up at me. He genuinely believed he was providing me with the funds to purchase some kind of luxury mansion.

“I’ll save up my pocket money and send you it every week” he promised, “All of it, so you and Rachel can have a nice house and everything”

I pushed his money away, my voice finally cracking.

“Keep it Aiden” I mumbled, “I need to get going, tell mum not to come looking for me”

We both smiled weakly, knowing all to well that she would do no such thing. She would realise I was missing, sit with a large bottle of vodka and plan to sell the possessions I was being forced to leave behind.

“I’ll miss you Jimmy” Aiden said, throwing his arms around me

I hugged him back, feeling his heartbeat against mine. A rush of love hit me, followed by an enormous pang of guilt. I wished more than anything that he was coming with us, yet I knew that Rachel and I faced a foreseeable future of sleeping outdoors in all weather. I pictured us huddled together under a makeshift shelter and knew Aiden would have to remain in the Bay.

When we broke apart, I bolted down the stairs before I could look into his eyes again and change my mind. The walls blurred around me as I hurtled downwards, my heart thudding inside my bruised, sore chest. My backpack slung over one shoulder, I reached the entrance to the block of flats and felt for Rachel’s hand in the murkiness of my grief and confusion.

“He’ll be okay” she whispered reassuringly, “Aiden’s tougher than we give him credit for”

We had already gathered some of her clothes and money sneaked from her mothers purse as she slept in Rachel’s home. I thought of her awaking to find her youngest daughter’s things gone and the money missing and felt worse.

“Where are we going?” she asked me as we approached the Bay’s bus station, Rain was beginning to drizzle down on us despite the overpowering heat. I brushed away the worst of my tears, wincing as my fingers made contact with the soft bruised flesh surrounding my eyes. My arm automatically wrapped itself around Rachel’s waist in some kind of feeble attempt to protect her from the uncertain future we wandered into as the bus drew into the station.

“Two please” I said to the driver, feeding change into the box

“Single or return laddie?” he inquired

I looked at Rachel for a moment.

“Single please” I replied, “We’re not going to return”

I’m shaking all over, the doctor’s eyes fixed on me as though he would like them to burn straight through me. He is eyeing my spiked hair nervously, one hand wrapped around his stethoscope.

“Is she…” I finally get the courage to ask
My heart is hammering within my ribcage, my mind filled with the endless possibilities of what I am about to discover. All I know is that she’s in hospital, and she’s had an accident. That’s all the information they would give me over the phone.

“Rachel was hit by a car earlier this morning” the doctor tells me, his voice still wary, “She requested that we call you, please follow me”

He is half jogging down the corridors to stay several steps away from me, fists clenched as though he expecting me to attack any moment. I follow him blindly, my stomach still stirred with dread and a metallic taste in my mouth where tears of fear and panic have trickled down my face. For a second I allow myself to wonder what it will be like if Rachel dies, if I never get to hold her in my arms again. The doctor Is pushing open a door now, and telling me I have ten minutes and I will be thrown out at the slightest sign of trouble. I’m not paying any attention, I’m staring at my beat up shoes as I step into the designated room. Its surprisingly dark and dingy compared with the glaring whiteness of the corridors. And its almost a relief to be swallowed by the darkness.

And then my eyes focus properly and I can see her lying in a bed, eyes closed and face dotted with scratches and deep purple bruises. I’m breathing a sigh of relief that she is lying here and not in a mortuary somewhere.

“Jimmy” she whispers weakly

I suddenly want to tell her everything, how I imagined her lying still and cold, and planned how to commit suicide so that I could be with her. But I can’t explain, so I take her hand, terrified I’m hurting her. Her eyes are swollen shut, stitches running along her forehead. I’m wanting to pick her up and hug her and tell her that everything will be okay, but there are tubes and wires running out of her body wherever I look so this is an impossibility. You hear it all the time on the television, people saying that they’d rather take the pain themselves than watch someone they love go through it. It’s cheesy by that’s how I’m feeling now, that I’d willingly take her place that watch her twinge in pain with every breath she takes.

That’s when I make a promise, that I’ll do anything in the world to protect her. I’ll never leave her, no matter where she goes and I’d do anything for her, as long as she survives. I’m forgetting that I’m in the hospital, and the suspicious doctor will be along in a minute to see what’s going on. I sink to my knees and pray, even though I don’t really know who I’m praying to. I’m never, ever going to leave her, as long as we’re both alive. It’s sort of like wedding vows, but without the extravagancies that people seem to be opting for increasingly. It’s just us, alone in the dingy rooms, Rachel bleeding and my heart breaking…