'being Sian' - Meeting The Freak

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‘Being Sian’ Meeting the Freak I meant well when I invited Terence up for a coffee this afternoon. I was leaning over my balcony enjoying the fresh air, looking down at the pavement below, when I saw Terence sitting on the wall. I felt sorry for him, sitting there with nothing to do and no-one to talk to, so I shouted down in my loudest voice; “Hi there!” He didn’t hear me, so I shouted again, a bit louder. This time he glanced up, disorientated. He didn’t know where the shout came from. I waved frantically, and he met my gaze. “I was beginning to think you couldn’t hear me at all,” I laughed, feeling a rush of good will. “Why don’t you come up for a coffee?” I had met Terence once or twice before in the lift which served our dinghy block of council flats. He lived somewhere on the ninth floor, and our only conversation had been, “Which floor?” as one of us pressed the appropriate buttons. I remember being surprised at hearing an Irish accent. “Are you Irish?” I’d asked admiringly. I’ve always liked the Irish. “Yes.” He replied, and told me the name of the place in Ireland where he came from. I made no effort to remember it, as he spoke in a quick,

3 mumbling voice and I wasn’t sure I heard him right in the first place. I knew that if I’d asked him to repeat himself, I’d still be none the wiser, so I just nodded. He had dark brown, curly hair and a blank, unreadable face. He wore thick glasses that made his brown eyes appear very big indeed, noticeably so; it was the only thing you saw. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing; it made him look hunted and desperate, and also slightly spastic. I had an odd feeling about him, almost of distrust; this was mainly because I couldn’t work out the expression on his face, as the glasses consumed it so completely. It seemed as though he had no feelings since you couldn’t read any, then I thought, ‘Okay, don’t be cruel to the guy just because he has to wear glasses! He’s probably very normal really.’ I should have known better when I saw his reaction now to my invitation for coffee. He was very eager to accept. As soon as the words were out of my mouth he jumped up down below, like a miniature puppet suddenly yanked by strings. “What’s yer number?” He asked. I felt doubtful straightaway. I realized by this stage I’d have to give my address, but somehow hearing him ask so directly made me want to conceal it. I knew how silly and pointless that was; how else would he come up for a coffee if I didn’t tell him? So I replied, “Four nine two!” for everyone to hear, and his arse flew to the entrance doors so fast I felt a surge of panic. I heard him knock a minute later, and I opened the door with a smile. He smiled back, and walked in like a dog sniffing out new territory before

4 getting the confidence to piss on it. It didn’t take him long to piss, either. I made coffee and hovered around, tentatively sipping my cup and wondering whether this was actually a wise thing to do. I started talking about the flat, sheerly for something to say. “I’m painting it up at the moment.” I said, showing him around. My flat is different from most people because I don’t use the rooms for their intended purposes. I now use my large living room as my bedroom. My double bed sits here in the centre, looking across to my open plan kitchen ahead. It’s much more spacious and I feel more peaceful, but it’s always a bit awkward when visitors come. The poky ex-bedroom next door is too confined to lead them into, even though I moved the couch in there. It would feel too closed in and intimate, but it’s also embarrassing and familiar to have them sitting out here on my bed with me. To avoid discomfort, I now sat on the floor with a cushion, letting Terence perch on the end of the bed, facing me. I didn’t trust him that much, and refused to give him the impression of being too relaxed. We discussed the layout of the flat. “You can put up shelves here and there,” He suggested, and I agreed, welcoming his ideas. “I want to paint the walls purple!” I exclaimed, in a rush of enthusiasm. “No, I wouldn’t do that,” He replied. “It would look depressing.” I considered his words reluctantly. Perhaps he was right.

5 “The other thing is,” I confided, “The doors are off their hinges. I took them down because they were grating on the carpets. D’you think you could give me a hand with them?” “Sure.” He jumped at the chance. “I’ll have to pop upstairs and get some tools.” I debated whether to push my luck. My cooker had broken down completely a few days ago, and I had nothing to cook with. Maybe he could help me. I explained the situation to Terence. “I’m sorry to ask, but have you got a camper cooker or anything I could borrow? I mean, I can get something on Monday, but today’s Thursday, it’s a long time to wait.” He paused and shook his head. “Nothing I can think of,” He replied. “Hang on, I have a microwave, if that’s any good?” “Perfect!” I was relieved. “You’ll have it back on Monday, in full working order, I promise.” “It’s okay. You can keep it.” “Are you sure? I mean, what are you going to use?” “I can use my flatmate’s,” He said, shrugging. “Or get another one. I’m moving into a hostel soon anyway. I can’t take everything with me.”

6 I was delighted at this run of good luck, perhaps I was meant to talk to Terence today. It was working out for me, I wouldn’t have been able to cook otherwise. I let him out of the door so he could go to his flat. “Back in a minute,” He assured me. Soon he returned with the microwave. He placed it in the kitchen, but I noticed he’d brought two bottles of wine with him. He put one of them in the fridge, and I handed him a corkscrew. ‘Red wine in the fridge? You’ll destroy the flavour.’ I thought to myself. However, I said nothing to Terence, silently grateful for the free booze, even if it tasted like cold vinegar. “Thanks so much for the microwave,” I said happily. “I’ll get you a couple of pouches of tobacco tomorrow to repay you. I can get the contraband stuff.” I planned to go to the train station in Whitechapel, and buy some illegally from the scruffy, seedy looking Turkish guys there. Sometimes they’d run if they spotted the police, leaving me with the other option, Old Man Harry. He was a kind, fatherly figure who drank in a pub down the road. I usually avoided going there if I could, since I’d been fired from a bar job there ages ago. He perked up at the idea, rolling a cigarette as I spoke. “You know, you could save yourself a lot of money buying your tobacco cheap like I do.” Already I was chain smoking. I did that in company; when I felt unsure of myself. I did it to cover up the fact that I felt nervous, rather than a real craving. After a while Terence began to lift the bathroom door back on its

7 frame. It was quite heavy as he lifted it onto the hinges and drove in the screws. Afterwards he took a break, sitting on the end of the bed. I sat on the floor facing him and he poured out two glasses of wine. I hinted that I wanted the other doors put back on too, at some stage. “Sure. I’ll come and do it tomorrow. Rome wasn’t built in a day, as they say.” ‘Coming back tomorrow’ wasn’t something I’d suggested, though. I felt a bit annoyed. After all, I could have plans for tomorrow, couldn’t I? No, Rome certainly wasn’t built in a day, not with him around anyway! Oh, what the hell. I could do it myself, for God’s sake. It wasn’t right, anyway, to expect other people to do everything. I sipped some more wine and asked Terence about himself. “So, how long have you lived on the ninth floor?” “It’s not my place, actually,” He replied. “The original tenant left the country, and let my flatmate have the place. Abraham has a little boy, so the Council can’t throw him out.” “Oh. He’s lucky that he can keep it, isn’t he?” I said, surprised. “Yeah, well he pays rent and everything, so....” he paused, stubbing out his cigarette. “What about you?” His birdlike stare fixed itself onto me, the huge eyes filling the lenses of his glasses.

8 “Oh, I’ve been here a year and a half now. I did have my boyfriend here, but he got arrested last week actually. The Police broke in here and took him, right in front of me.” “What did he do?” He asked, curiously. I paused. James had taken property off the hands of his ‘friends’... small stuff at first, like bags and suitcases, stereos and music C.D’s, growing more and more secretive about his whereabouts and activities. He was in jail now, for five months. I was always kept in the dark and all his legal charges, and what he was up to. I just knew he was always running from the police. I never tried to question James, since he never spoke to me anyway, other than to abuse me and put me down. I was getting on with my own life now, at long last, now that James was in Wandsworth jail, where he belonged. I had to drop a few strong hints to Terence that I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Some men always try to take advantage, and this was a perfect situation for him. I showed him a couple of photos of James. “You may have seen him around,” I said casually, hoping my hint would be taken correctly. He glanced at them for a second and nodded. “I think I have.” “If only it hadn’t been for the drugs,” I sighed. “James was doing a credit card scam with these guys. They got money from other people’s stolen cards. James went around the shops, getting cash back on the cards to spend on Speed, as usual.”

9 Terence was listening hard, staring intently with those big blank eyes of his. Being stared at so continuously just made me want to talk more, though. I was easily embarrassed. “Anyway, stuff started coming in, like small personal belongings and more credit cards which couldn’t be explained away. He didn’t bother throwing away all this evidence. He said he’d get round to it, but never did. He wasn’t there when the Police searched the flat, but in the end they caught him.” Again, Terence said nothing, just sat there. He stared, lost in thought; a fixed gaze, like a deranged owl about to seize a mouse, just waiting for the chance. He must have read my thoughts, because suddenly he whipped off his glasses in one swift move. I stared in disbelief. His eyes were quite small, tinier than I would have imagined. Ugly eyes actually, beetle-like and brown, like small currants in a large face. I felt disappointed. The horrible thing about Terence was, he could read your mind. “Quite small, aren’t they?” I was thrown for a few seconds, possibly long enough to admit the truth of his statement. Obviously I didn’t want to offend, so to cover myself, I denied it in the most genuine voice I could muster. “Not really, no. I mean everyone looks different with their glasses on. Take me, for instance. I’m short-sighted, so my eyes are a lot smaller through the lenses! You’re long-sighted, aren’t you?” The conversation turned back to him, and he began to tell me about his problems.

10 “I’ve got a baby, you know.” “Really?” I was astonished. He didn’t seem like a father. “It’s a four-month-old boy.” Terence smiled suddenly. “D’you get to see it often?” I asked. “Not as much as I’d like to.” He sighed. “The mother and I split up, and she took an Order out on me. She claimed I had threatened to kidnap the baby. Nothing I could say was good enough. They took her side. Even my mates vouching for me wasn’t good enough. I can only see the child somewhere neutral, and when she says so.” “Oh.” It seemed a bit extreme to me. Terence was getting worked up about it, firing away like a cannon ball. There wasn’t much emotion in his eyes, they stayed as blank as ever; but he shot out the words fast and frantically. “She’s loopy, I think. She just wants to hurt me where she can. Now she’s blackmailing me with the kid! She knows I want to see him.” I was surprised, and felt sorry for him. What was he doing with someone like that? “Was she always so nasty?” “She fell pregnant as soon as we started going out.” He explained. “Of course I stuck with her, for the child. I thought it was the hormones from the pregnancy making her go ballistic.”

11 “Well, if she didn’t want to be with you any more she could have just said so, instead of treating you like that!” “Exactly. When I was with her, I gave her everything she wanted, and all the money I earned. I bought her loads of stuff, hoping to cheer her up, but now we’ve split up, she’s got the Police onto me. I had to go to Court and everything! It’s all lies.” I felt sympathetic, and showed him my anger at what she’d done to him. “Well, men are capable of doing such things. That’s why they believed her. It’s her word against mine, isn’t it?” He said finally. He was comforted by my sympathy, as I became his ally. “Well, I think it’s terrible. I’m sure you didn’t deserve any of it.” I told him firmly. “It makes me sick when I hear of women like that. My own sex! They really let the side down, don’t they?” Terence lapped it up like a thirsty puppy. His huge brown eyes shone with appreciation. He puffed out his chest a little. Enjoying my role, I went too far. “Women like that deserve to get beaten up! They complain when the men are violent, and yet when they find a nice guy like you, they abuse you!” I spluttered. We both fell silent in an unspoken bond, as two victims of their respective partners. I felt he was hoping this would pull us together as lovers, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. There was no way. Terence smiled, filling my glass with more wine. The sudden, intimate pause made

12 me squirm, in case it should lead to anything he might have in mind. I had to keep talking, to prevent him leaning toward a certain end. No, I mustn’t let him travel down that road. Stupidly I gibbered along, steering him away. He was no longer talking, so I dived in quickly with whatever came to mind. “I’ve had two breakdowns you know,” I said, inspired. God. Why did I have to say that? It was too late to change course now. Terence was waiting for more. Nervously, I plunged ahead. “One night, James was in one of his moods on Speed. He’d been ignoring me all day, complaining that I wouldn’t talk. ‘I can’t do all the talking you know, I’m not here to entertain you. I’m sick of the silence, I’m going out.’ He said. Now, I’d had enough of this. Can you imagine, months and months of silence every day? It was destroying me. So when I was sure he’d gone, I screamed my guts out. I had no control any more, I felt dangerous. I felt so agitated that I stormed out to the phone box to sign myself in.” I smiled inwardly. There, it wasn’t so bad. I was getting it off my chest, wasn’t I? I’d found a listening ear, someone who would understand. Terence hardly breathed, frozen with anticipation. “Before I reached the phone box I heard someone call my name. It was James, sitting on the wall outside. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, and I told him. All he said was, ‘Don’t be silly. You don’t want to go into a mental hospital! Go back to the flat. I’ll be with you soon.’ I went back into the block, but instead of going to the flat I collapsed on the stairs and

13 started howling. Neighbours right up to the top heard me screaming, and thought I was being raped. They called the Police.” Terence waited. I tossed a glass of wine down my throat angrily. “I went to the flat and cried some more. James came in fuming with anger. ‘Do you realize that the Police have been called? Thanks very much! You know how much I like them, don’t you? Well you can answer the door and tell them you’re absolutely fine.’ He didn’t care that I was crying, oh no.” I tightened my lips at the memory. “It’s good to talk to someone isn’t it? Otherwise you can go stir crazy!” Said Terence. “Yes! I mean, everyone has problems, but if nobody wants to listen, you keep an awful lot inside. It rots away your spirit, until there’s nothing left of it!” A note of anguish had crept into my voice, unguarded. Terence glanced at me shrewdly. “Couldn’t you ever talk to James then?” I sighed. “No, not always. It would be hard, especially if he was in a bad mood coming down off Speed.” “Can’t you talk to your family?” He suggested.

14 I froze. The question was normal, but reality stabbed me like a knife. “You must be joking. My mother is half the problem.” “What about your father?” My stomach lurched. Suddenly I felt delirious with dread. The very word “Father” sounded alien to my ears. I mustn’t hear it. No, I mustn’t. Oh God, get this feeling away from me! I can feel something, icy fingers gripping me. Argghh. I shivered as something terrible hovered in my mind. I wouldn’t recall it. I’m not going to recall it! Terence sensed my fear. He leaned forward in a conspiring manner. “You can talk to me. Let it out, whatever it is.” I choked. “I can’t!” I whispered, afraid. “Yes you can. Nothing’s going to hurt you. You’re safe.” It was as though Terence was opening his arms to me, wanting to release the pain I felt inside. It was an invitation I couldn’t resist.

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