Simon Lelic - A Thousand Cuts

Honest, Dad, you got to believe me. I mean, I was there. I saw it happen. I saw what they did to him but it wasn’t me.

He’s lying! says the woman.

Shut up, I say. You, just shut up. Then, who did it Donnie? What did you see?

And Donnie goes shtum. Just clams up. Which makes it obvious, right? It was one of his mates. And it doesn’t take a whatdyacallit, a whateverthefuckologist to work out which one.

Donnie, I say again. What did you see?

I can’t, Dad. You know I can’t.

It was him! My son told me it was!

It wasn’t me. I swear to you it wasn’t!

He saw him. He saw you!

Maybe he saw me but I didn’t do it. There were lots of people there. Loads. Maybe he got confused. Maybe he only thought it was me.

He did not get confused! If he says it was you then—

You’ve got the wrong boy, I tell her. Do you hear me? You’ve got the wrong boy. Talk to the school. Tell the school what happened. Let them deal with it.

I spoke to the school, she says. I spoke to the headmaster. He said they can’t do anything. Which means they won’t do anything. So I’m talking to you. I talked to my son and now I’m talking to you!

Then Karen pipes up. There’re cameras, she says. Aren’t there? On the buses.

That’s right, I say. Talk to the bus company. Look at the cameras.

They put tissue paper over the cameras! She’s shouting again now. Your son did! He put wet tissue paper over the cameras! And she starts trying to get past me, to get at Donnie, and by that time I’ve had just about enough. So I do what I should of done in the first place. I grab her by the arms and shove her back. I tell her to piss off. I slam the door in her face. I go inside and finish my dinner.

That ends it. That’s the end of it. I never see or hear from her again. Which just proves it, doesn’t it? I mean, if she was so convinced it was Donnie there’s no way she would of just crawled back into her hole, not after the way she was carrying on. What happened was, she went away and she spoke to her son again and her son was like, er… well… yeah… maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Donovan. But do I get an apology? Does Donnie get an apology? Do we fuck.

So you can sit there insinuating all you like. I’ve heard it all before. I’ve heard it all before and not one word of it is true.

You know what, I don’t know why I’m even bothering. You’re like the rest of em, I can see it in your face. It doesn’t matter what I say. I’m wasting my breath. Believe what the hell you want to believe. What the fuck does it matter now?

This is over. Right now.

Here, give me that thing.

How do you stop this?

Where the hell’s the damn but—

I’m sorry about my husband, Inspector.

Don’t worry. He wouldn’t like me talking to you but he won’t be back now, not till later. He’ll come home when he gets hungry. My mum used to say, men are like dogs. They bark and sometimes they even bite but as long as you keep em fed they’ll never stray far from home.

You mustn’t think bad of him. He’s upset, that’s all. He gets angry – that’s what he does when he’s hurting inside. Sometimes I think it’s the only way he has of expressing himself. I mean, he’s passionate, that’s his problem. He’s a passionate man. And he misses his son. It’s not right, is it, that a parent should outlive their child? I heard someone say that once, on the news I think it was, or Corrie maybe, and it stuck in my mind but I never thought it would… I mean, that we would… that…

Don’t mind me. I’m okay. I’m not even crying. Look. See?

I’ll tell you something I haven’t told anyone else: I haven’t cried. Not once. Not since Donnie died. I don’t know why. I mean, it hurts, don’t get me wrong. And I know they’ll come. The tears. It was like this when my dad died. I was only seven but I remember. I remember not crying and trying to cry and worrying what everyone thought of me, that they thought I didn’t love my dad, that they blamed me somehow for him dying. Then I worried that I was to blame, that he’d be alive if I’d of loved him more.

It was only after the funeral. Maybe two or three weeks after. I was shopping with my mum and we got home and Mum opened the door and she had all these bags and what would normally of happened was, Dad would of come out of the kitchen or the garden or from upstairs or wherever and he would of taken the bags from my mum and carried them through for her and all the time he would of been moaning about how heavy they were, about how much my mum must of spent. But he didn’t come. Mum opened the door and it was just the empty house waiting. And she was puffing and struggling with the bags and it suddenly struck me as the saddest thing in the world. That my dad wasn’t there to carry the bags. I cried then. I cried and I couldn’t stop. My mum just held me. She left the shopping on the doorstep, with the peas defrosting and the butter melting, and she held me.

So it will be like that I expect. Except, well, Mum’s not here now. And Donnie’s not here now. And even when Barry’s here, he’s not always exactly in the moment, if you know what I mean. But I’ll be all right. I’ll manage.

I’m getting sidetracked. I don’t mean to keep you. All I wanted to say was, what Barry said, he wasn’t wrong. About Donnie. A lot of people said things that nobody could ever prove. And Gideon was definitely a bad influence. There’s no question about that. It’s just… I mean, the truth is…

The truth is, it wasn’t easy for Donnie. His dad has certain expectations, certain rules. And Barry, I mean, he’s not always around, like I said. He works and he has his friends and a man only has so much time, doesn’t he? Particularly some men. Certain types of men. I mean, nappies, bedtime stories, football in the park. It’s just not them. Do you know what I’m trying to say? So it wasn’t easy for Donnie.

Because I work too, you see. I’m out most of the day. And we never had a brother for Donnie. We never gave him a sister. I would of liked to of done. I would of loved to of had a little girl, even two little girls, two little sisters for Donnie to protect. But Barry wasn’t keen. So we didn’t. Which means Donnie was on his own most of the time. Which isn’t always good for a boy, is it? Boys, they need occupying, even the bright ones. Especially the bright ones. And Donnie was bright, just like Barry said. Although do you know what I think? I think he was ashamed of it. That’s what I think. He was ashamed of being so bright. So he hid it. Either he hid it or if he let it show he let it show in ways that… Well. In ways that oughtn’t to be encouraged.

Because that was the other problem with us not being around. A boy needs discipline, doesn’t he? Not that Barry didn’t give him discipline. But discipline, it’s not just the bad stuff, is it? It’s not just the shouting and, well, the rest of it. It’s also the other things. Things like… I don’t know. Like guidance, I suppose. Guidance is the word. I would try sometimes but it should come from the father, really, shouldn’t it? I’m not saying it’s Barry’s fault. It’s my fault, I know it’s my fault. Because I remember what Barry was like when Donnie was younger, when we were having trouble with the schools and we had to move him, three times we had to move him, and I remember how Barry reacted. So since then, and because everything seemed to be all right at school, I didn’t always tell Barry things. You know, like if Donnie had done something he shouldn’t of. Because I was scared how Barry would react. And I thought, so long as he’s settled at school, that’s better than it was before.

I don’t really know what I’m trying to say. It’s complicated, that’s all. I suppose all it is really is that Donnie had his problems. What Barry said, he wasn’t wrong, but there were other things too. There was another side to things. And like I say, it’s not Barry’s fault and it’s not Donnie’s fault and if it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine. It’s just, I can’t help wishing that I’d had a little help. Just sometimes, from someone. Because it’s hard, being a parent. I mean, I had Barry. I wasn’t all alone like some people. So maybe it’s just me but I have to be honest and say that I found it really hard. And now, after what’s happened, well. This is about as hard as it gets.