An Hour in the Darkness (7 page)

“How you going there, fellers?” I drawled. I tried to sound as friendly as I could. I wanted to get things between us off on an even footing.

“God! Please help me,” Ronnie moaned from the ground.

It tore me in two the way she was looking at me. I smiled at her. I nodded too, so she knew that everything was going to be alright. Ronnie started to cry. When Ronnie cried it looked like her whole face was falling to pieces.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” said the white man, and pulled Ronnie's dress up some more. Ronnie's thighs sure were white, even in the dark shadows of the Angel Gateway, and I kind of looked at them for a moment. They shone like candles. They were sexy and terrifying.

“Yeah, we're going to get to you in a minute,” said the black man, grinning some.

“Easy there, fellers,” I said.

“Fuck off, mate, else you're going to get badly hurt,” said the white man.

“I can't,” I answered him real politely.

“Just walk away now.”

“Come on, chaps, I can't do that, can I?”

“You really need to walk away now, mate, or things are going to get bad for you.”

“Things are already bad for me,” I said.

“Just go.”

“Why would you want to do a thing like this? Ronnie's a real sweet girl, she really is. Okay, she can get nasty sometimes; you know, calling me a freak and everything, but I don't think she meant to say it. She really didn't mean it. I'm sure she didn't. I don't think she meant it, you know, fellers. I'm really hoping that she didn't mean it, okay? She wouldn't tell people I'm a lousy rapist, not really. You're the real rapists. I'm not a rapist. Please don't tell Jenny I'm a rapist, okay? Jenny thinks I'm just about the greatest person in the world. Do we have to tell Jenny I'm a rapist? It would sure break her heart and all.”

“Are you a nutcase?” said the white man, and the black man giggled behind him.

“I'm afraid I might be. I'm real terrified that I might be.”

“You're going to die today, mate, if you don't go away.”

“Does it really have to be today? Come on, fellers, it's snowing outside, for Chrissake. A man shouldn't have to do his dying when it's snowing. That sounded like John Wayne. I'm not John Wayne. I wish my dad was here.”

Then the white guy went and pulled a goddamn knife out from somewhere. He stepped towards me and started waving it around next to my handsome face.

“If you don't fuck off quick, I am going to do you some serious harm.”

He sure was waving his knife around like he was real proud of it or something.

“You sound quite educated.”

“Fuck off.”

“
Language, Timothy
!”

I sort of joked with him, trying to fool around a little until the cops got there and saved the day. Christ, I couldn't even hear the sirens.

And then he did a really strange thing.

He moved forwards some more, real causally, like he wanted to hug me or something, and stabbed me. He really did it. I was totally shocked when he did it, I can tell you. I just looked into his eyes and shook my head like I was real disappointed in him for doing it. And do you know what? I never felt a thing. I just sort of glanced downwards and watched him push the knife into my chest. He did it real slowly, carefully, almost artistically, if you must know. He did it all quite beautifully. I can remember thinking how clean and shiny the blade was before it went in my chest and how red and bloody it was when it came out again. It didn't look at all clean and shiny when he pulled it out and I don't think the nasty man thought so either because he looked at it with disgust and then wiped it on the wall next to him.

“Fucking hell,” said his mate, you know, the sad-looking one. “You've killed him.”

Then the white man, who had stabbed me, did a funny thing – to my eyes anyway. He sort of did a silly little Irish jig and then motored away. I think he was real sorry for what he had done. His mate spat at me and ran off too. Ronnie was still on the floor and in shock too, I shouldn't wonder.

But Ronnie, bless her, didn't shout or anything; she just got up and pulled her dress down, which I was real glad about, I can tell you. Then she came towards me. Some of her dress was still riding up and when I pointed to it she had the decency to straighten it out. God, Ronnie sure looked full of concern for me all of a sudden. She looked at me in a real tender way and it sure was a relief at last. It was real good to see her looking at me like that, especially after all the nasty stuff.

I was starting to feel real dizzy. I was beginning to feel the pain for the first time. I sort of staggered back, against the wall, and Ronnie gasped and it echoed around the Angel Gateway. Ronnie put her hand over her mouth. Then I thought that she was flying above me, like an angel, but she wasn't, it was because I'd slipped down the wall and was lying on my back. The ground felt wet.

I was gone, man, I can tell you. I sure felt cold and hot, and everything. I could see old Ronnie, looking down at me, but she was spinning now and I couldn't focus on her. I wished she would stay still. The walls in the Angel Gateway were jumping up and down. Then Ronnie's face dissolved, or something. I began to panic then, you know, when Ronnie's face went blurry like that. I closed and opened my eyes a few hundred times, but she was still fuzzy, and I heard a gasping sound that came from my own throat. A great pain erupted in my chest, suddenly, and I think I cried a little. Actually, I think I cried a hell of a lot. I sure hated the fact that old Ronnie had to see me crying like that.

When I looked down at my chest I got a big surprise. The blood was beginning to spread over my clean white shirt and I started to imagine I was a robin. And as the darkness in the Angel Gateway crept closer, tugging at me, I remember thinking that looking like a robin was a nice thing.

But Tiny Tim did not die.

It sure still depresses me though, when I think back on it all. Even now, when I'm lying in the darkness, it sometimes comes sweeping back and I have to bite my hands to make it stop. Anyway, the consultant said I was lucky to be alive, which was funny really, because I didn't feel lucky.

I must have stayed in the good old Leicester Infirmary for about a hundred years. It sort of struck me as kind of funny, seeing as that was where I was born. The nurses didn't seem to remember me though. They sure were pretty – and yes – I suppose I started flirting with them a little to pass the time of day. I think I must have broken about a thousand hearts while I was in there, for Chrissake. Anyway, I was still alive; apparently the knife had missed all the vital organs.

Jenny was sitting by my bedside one day when I woke up. There was snow floating past the windows and she never even had a coat that I could see.

“What are you doing here?” I said.

“Charming, I'm sure.”

“I know you don't like the sight of blood, so don't look at the plaster.”

“Typical. Still he thinks everything's about him. Why's it always got to be about you all the time?”

I smiled. Jenny sure looked cut up though, seeing me like that.

“Where's your coat?”

“I don't need a coat. You're a revelation. You don't get it at all, do you?”

Jenny started to chuckle for about a million years. It got on my nerves a little, to tell you the truth. Jenny always has to chuckle for about a million years. It sure was good to see her happy though.

She stopped suddenly.

“You were very brave,” she said. “Who would have thought it? My brother the hero? God, I'll probably just about never hear the end of it.”

Jenny folded her thin arms and sat back heavily in the chair.

“What's wrong with you?” I said.

“I don't know. Things have changed. What with you being a hero now.”

“Are you proud of me?” I said.

“Of course not. God. You're going to be impossible.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

We both smiled.

A nurse suddenly came up to the bed. She didn't seem to mind that Jenny was there.

“I'll have to get an extra chair,” she said. “Your parents are here to see you.”

Boy, it sure shook me up when Mum and Dad arrived unannounced like that. Jenny gave me a frightened wave then ran away and hid. The old folks stood staring down at me from the side of the bed. It looked like they didn't recognise me at all. Mum's mouth was an O shape, for Chrissake. Mum said, a long time afterwards, that what shocked her most was the little plaster stuck on my chest to cover up the knife wound.

I was embarrassed they had to see me like that. I kind of hated myself for letting them down. They sure had high hopes for me, I guess. I wished I'd made it to Leicester University like they hoped I would. I sure began to wish I'd made something of myself.

Mum started speaking real fast. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were full of terror, or something. She talked about everything except the stabbing. Poor Dad just stared at me like I was the saddest thing he'd ever seen in his life. Then Mum suddenly stopped talking and started to cry, and it just about broke my heart to see it.

When Dad spoke I think it was the first time I listened.

“You look terrible, son.”

“Gee, thanks, Dad.”

“What's happened to you?”

He didn't mean the stabbing either.

Mum stopped crying, but there was an awful lot of sniffing going on.

“I feel right lonely sometimes, you know, missing you both and everything,” I said.

I was really pouring it out for the old folks, no messing, trying to make everyone in the whole world feel sorry for me again. I do that a lot. I love it when the whole world is taking pity on me. I love putting on a real brave face and pretending I don't want to talk about it when I'm practically dying for you to drag it all out. I felt like I was taking away all their sins, or something. I'm just about the most charitable person in the whole world sometimes.

“Why don't you come back home, son?”

Mum laid a tender hand on my head and then sort of mussed up my hair like when I was a kid.

“I'd love that. I really would and I will soon, of course I will. I sure miss you both to hell, I really do. I'm burning to crawl back home and beg for your forgiveness.”

“Why are you talking that way, son?” Dad spoke quietly. It was like he was afraid of me all of a sudden.

He glanced nervously at the other beds in the hospital. I took a peep at Jenny. She was back at the end of my bed, nervously chewing the blanket around my feet. She was cuter than mom's apple pie. She looked anxious though, so I winked at her to make her feel better. She was mouthing something at me, but I couldn't tell what it was. I think it had something to do with Dad. I think she was telling me not to get him all fired up.

I nodded at Jenny and then turned to Dad.

“Sorry, Dad, I sure am sorry about that. You know, about talking so goddamn fast all the time, practically shouting it out, so the whole world is staring at us and embarrassing you half to death in the public bar, and everything. You know, ripping up all the beer mats and not drinking the landlord's fine ale.”

“Stop it, son.”

“I will soon, I sure will, Dad, of course I will. Hey listen, I'm sure looking forward to coming home for Christmas, okay? Spending Christmas together again like we all used to. A real traditional affair with mince pies and all. You sure make the best damn mince pies in the world, Dad. And old Jenny will be so pleased when I come back and she'll probably want to kiss me about a million times and hug me half to death in the hall, I shouldn't wonder. And then we'll open all the presents under the tree. I love a real tree though, don't you? I love the smell of the pine needles.”

“Stop it.”

“I can't stop, Dad. I'm afraid I can't stop it. I want to stop, of course I do, but I can't. I'm real scared now, Dad. I want it to stop now please.”

“Please, don't, son.”

“I'm practically bursting out of my head waiting for Christmas day. I sure as hell want old Jenny to see the snow globe I bought her. Boy, but doesn't Jenny love snow globes more than everything? And it's just about the best snow globe you ever saw in your life. Old Jenny's going to just about love it more than all her other presents put together.”

“Jenny's dead,” said Dad.

“I know.”

“Oh son,” said Mum.

“I never even bought her a snow globe,” I said.

Dad couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't stand it, I suppose. All that talk about Jenny and snow globes. He broke down in front of us and who could blame him? Certainly not me. I swear it was the only time I ever saw him cry. He never cried, even when Jenny died.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his tattooed hands and fought to get himself under control. I wasn't helping, I admit it. I was grinning like the Cheshire Cat for some strange reason. Listen, if something real important like that is happening I have to laugh at it, okay? A great sob seemed to pass through Dad's giant body. It was sure sad having to see him like that.

I looked at Jenny. She was biting her lip something rotten. She shook her head and mouthed that I'd done it now for sure. Then Dad suddenly stood up and rushed out of the ward, and I stared at Mum, real shyly, like I'd never met her before. I was drained seeing my dad cry like that.

“I've been talking to Jenny a lot lately,” I said.

I glanced down at Jenny for support, but she had gone.

“What?” said Mum.

“I've been seeing Jenny. She comes to my flat sometimes and starts chatting to me. I don't know how she gets in because I always lock the door. Sometimes when I wake up she's just sitting on the end of my bed, staring at me. It sure is good to see her though.”

“You're not well, Franklin. You need to come home so we can look after you.”

“I know it's not right, seeing Jenny, I mean, but I'm happy to go along with it. I love it when she visits me, if you really want to know. It's just about the best feeling in the whole wide world when she comes to see me. We just have a little chat. It's all pretty cosy and innocent. We chat about the old times. It's the only time I'm happy.”

“You frighten me when you talk like this, Franklin,” said Mum.

“It's only because of the bang on my head. That's what Jenny said anyway. And you know how damn clever Jenny is. She said I'll only see her while I'm ill. She says that when I'm better I won't see her anymore. Mum, I don't want to get better if it means I can't see Jenny again. She sure misses you and Dad a lot. She told me about a hundred times that she sure would love to come back for Christmas just one more time.”

“Oh God.” Mum put her hand over her mouth.

“I'm going crazy, Mum.”

I said it jokingly, but it still scared me half to hell hearing myself say it like that. I thought that maybe if we both laughed we could somehow keep it all at bay. I knew that if it took me over completely, I was finished.

Mum got up and kissed me on the head. Then she stroked my hair some more. It felt damp, she said. She also told me that I was dreadfully thin in the face and my eyes looked kind of wild. I think Mum used the word feral. She took about a million pounds out of her purse for me and then made me promise to come home when I got out the hospital. She told me Dad wanted me to come home too, but was finding it hard to tell me because he was so strong, and everything. I said that I sure would try and make the effort and that I practically couldn't wait until we were all safely back together again. I meant it as well.