His Rubber Spine…
God, it’s cold.
Look. I can see my breath in front of my face. It’s April for Christ’s sake! It’s wet too, that’s normal but this cold… Wish this car had some heating. I’ve tried to get it going three times, nothing. It’s not my regular car so maybe there’s a special secret way to get the heaters blowing but maybes don’t change the fact that I’m cold. I check the time. Been waiting thirteen minutes. Sooner gone from here the better. Get home, where it’s at least a little warmer. I’m dressed appropriately enough in theory. Got on a couple of layers, my makeshift beany hat which helps keep my ears from freezing. Wish I had my gloves though. That would be nice.
I breathe on my hands and rub them together looking through the rain blurred windscreen. The rubbing works for a split second. The cold isn’t the only thing on my mind tonight. It’s not even the main thing. I have five words running over and over.
What am I doing here?
Over and over. Over and over. Can’t get them out of my head.
What am I doing here?
I run my hand over my face and feel the slight static resistance from my two day stubble. Maybe a beard would have kept my face warmer. I sigh and look at the time illuminated on the dashboard. It’s now closer to one than midnight.
What am I doing here?
I check my mirrors even though I’m parked on the side of the road under a streetlight that was smashed yesterday. Checking gives me something to do. Anything to stop me thinking…
What am I doing here?
I slump further down into the seat.
What the fuck am I doing here?
It’s good and valid question and one I’ve been asking more and more. I look at myself in the mirror and see not my eyes but the eyes of my family. I look away with disgust and hit the steering wheel with two open palms. I can feel that my breathing is heavier so I close my eyes and control it. I push my fists into my eyes. When I open my eyes again they are back to looking in the mirror. This time my own eyes look back. I meet the stares.
I’m not a bad guy. I’m not. Really. In fact I’d go as far as to say I’m probably a nice guy. I’ve just made some bad choices. I… Look. I don’t blame my upbringing. My parents didn’t make my decisions for me or anything like that. I did it all. Everything. I’m the one responsible for where I am right now. I could have said no at any time…
I sigh deeply.
I wasn’t always a loser. I went to university and got my Mickey Mouse degree with marks that made people proud. I got a job, I got promotions, got me a girl and thought about marriage.
I’m gritting my teeth now and making sounds that feel like they are rumbling up from deep in my gut. I shake my head for the hundredth time tonight.
But what happens when you lose your job and your degree with the good marks does nothing to help you? Well, you make excuse for a while. You assume that you are over qualified so they are holding that against you, you assume that the job has gone to someone the employer knew, you assume that your application must’ve been lost in the ether because you don’t even receive a rejection.
Eventually you realise the truths. That you can’t pay your utility bills, that you’re gonna have to crawl back to mummy and daddy for a place to stay because the bank are threatening to repossess your house, that your girlfriend has left because you’re a loser and can’t support yourself let alone a potential family. That’s where I find myself. This is my life. I don’t want to do this stuff that I’m doing but what choice have I got? Really? What choice? Welcome to my lowest ebb.
It started one night in the pub. I was unhappy so like a stereotype I started to hit the drink pretty hard. This guy that I knew from school, not a friend or anything but I knew him. An acquaintance I suppose. He dropped a hypothetical question into a conversation and I must have given him an answer that he saw as positive because he took the hypothetical part away and asked again. And again. And again. It didn’t matter how many times I said no he would just ask again. So for the last few months I’ve been doing more and more ‘one off’ jobs. Like running interference. Like causing distractions. Like driving cars.
Thinking back, I’ve always been kinda weak. Things changed a bit when I went to uni. Found me some respect. I guess that carried on into employment but now I’m back to where I was. Back in with the wrong crowd. Back to making bad choices.
When I was a kid… I was bullied at school and forced into stealing some stupid shit. Really silly stuff. First thing I stole was a soap in the shape of an apple. Yeah. Seriously. From a school fete table. A charity one at that. Years later, when I eventually got caught for stealing some Faith No More CD’s, I was alone. They left me to fend for myself. To take the blame.
After the CD incident my Dad said something that kinda sticks with me still. I was whining about how the other boys made me do it and it wasn’t my fault… He didn’t shout at me but shushed me quiet. He said, in a voice so disappointed it turns my stomach to think about it, that I have a rubber spine. That it bends this way and that it’s weak, doesn’t stand straight.
Like having no backbone at all.
I check my mirrors again. If something happens it will happen quickly.
So why am I here now? The money? Is it worth it? Really? Fucked if I know. Like I said… weak. My parents are good people. They’d help me. Take me in again. Until I get back on my feet.
I’m only driving the car.
Only driving the car.
What the fuck am I doing here?
I look at the time again. It’ll be one a.m. soon. Should have been finished by now.
You know what this is? This is like one of those moments that you see in the movies, isn’t it? When the audience is willing the guy to just walk away into the horizon to live happily ever after. Live his life.
Yeah, live his life looking over his shoulder in fear. If I leave it will come back to find me and crucify me. Gut me.
Movies don’t know shit.
I rub my temples to help me concentrate and calm the throbbing in my head. What is does do though, is focus me. Clears my mind. I make a decision. The right decision. Finally. I think…
Fuck it.
I need to go home.
I unbuckle my seat belt and I’m almost out of the car, my fingers are touching the door handle, when the back door opens and two guys in balaclavas are screaming at me to drive, drive, drive.
I pull down my own balaclava that I’d rolled into a hat over my face and start up the car. I thought wearing the balaclava while waiting was a bit suspicious. The engine roars into life but still doesn’t give me any heat. In my rear view my heart sinks when I see the faint blue flashing of the police.
Quick. So damn quick. Too quick.
The blue police lights start to fill the darkness behind us.
Sirens wail.
With a loud screech I take the car from the industrial estate into a residential area. Police are always reluctant to engage in a high-speed chase in populated areas. That’s what they said on ‘Cops With Cameras’ anyway.
Oh, Christ. Jesus Christ! What the fuck am I doing here? Just let me get away. This once. I swear to God I…
I don’t know what happened next.
I know I crashed the car. Maybe it was wetter than I thought.
I know that I’m lucky.
Don’t use your eyes. Look past my scars and the limp that will be mine for life. It’s been about a month since the crash and I acknowledge I still look pretty fuc… (no…) pretty bad. That’s not what I mean. Also, ignore the clothes I now wear courtesy of the judicial system and a somewhat lenient judge who only gave me a couple of years.
I’m alive. More than what the other two can say.
According to the doctors it’s miraculous that I avoided serious injury or death.
Miraculous.
Apparently due to the nature of the crash I should have suffered at the very least a broken back. That’s the norm. Throw in the fact that I hadn’t put my seatbelt back on…
It seems as if my ‘rubber spine’ has given me a second chance.
A miracle..
I think I’ll take it. I kinda made a promise. I swore to God. Before I flew face first through the windscreen. I’m not thrilled about it but I did. Who knows, people talk about finding strength in this sort of stuff. Maybe I can too. What have I got to lose? I have a couple of years to think about it. Think about my past but more importantly, about my future. To find out…
What I am doing here.
A couple of years… good behavior dependent of course.
I look forward to it.
