I Am The Local Atheist (35 page)

“
Well, the guys have said that Rucker’s gone back to stealing
shit ay, but no one has really said anything about it, or even
asked him. So long as he wasn’t stealing from us, it didn’t really
matter.” He scratched the back of his head. “I’ll admit there was a
couple of times that he was alone, like going for a piss and the
door was closed behind him to keep the warm air inside the living
room, so I guess it might have been him, dunno, but I’m fuckin’
sure it wasn’t anybody else, eh? No one else would do that, as far
as I know them, but apparently Rucker’s been getting accused a lot
recently of this shit by other people we know, so I wouldn’t blame
y’ for suspecting him.”

“
Well, I want him to pay. I want him confronted and to have to
pay for this.”

Tinsdale put
his hands up in defence. “Hey, he ain’t done nothing to me, it’s
not my problem. Do what you want – none of my friends or I will
stand in your way. If he did steal it then that’s his problem, not
ours and he suffers the consequence, but I won’t fuckin’ set him up
alright? Coz, he’s still a friend of mine, and I’m not the one that
he stole from. Cool?”

“
No it’s not cool!”

“
Well, it’s gonna have to be!” Tinsdale was looking like he
seriously did not want to be messed with. “He didn’t trespass
on
my
property –
he trespassed on
yours
!”

I was furious
that he wasn’t going to answer for his own friends, but I had to
concede to the fact that it really wasn’t his problem – it was all
mine. So I had to deal with it.

“
I’ll tell you what David. I’ll ask my mates if they’re aware
of anything and I’ll let you know.”

“
Fine.”

Lucas knew
more than Tinsdale.

“
But that’s only because I’m friends with the people he’s
already stolen from. He wouldn’t dare steal from his own friends –
Tinsdale and his crew – because he’d probably get his head smacked
in. So he only steals from people he’s been introduced to through
his friends or just random parties he turns up to.”

“
Why don’t his friends do anything? Why are they even friends
with someone like that?”

“
What are you naïve? Look at Tinsdale – is he the sort that
gives a shit what other people think… or even do? Rucker’s a good
friend to him, they keep good company, as they say.”

I felt
disgusted at the double standards that seemed to go around for
different people amongst Tinsdale and his friends.

“
Don’t get me wrong, eh David – they all think he deserves
getting the shit kicked out of him, but Rucker knows that if he
steals directly from his friends then that’s exactly what’s going
to happen. ‘Don’t shit in y’ own back yard’ well, he’s been
shitting in everyone else’s back yard and he knows now that he can
get away with it. So, fuck, if y’ gonna do something then do
something. Don’t just talk about it like everyone else
does.”

I needed some
perspective on this issue that wasn’t tainted by age – or lack of
age, or something. I don’t know, just something different I guess.
From someone different.

I arrived at
mum’s house at about 4:30 but only made it half way down the drive
before stopping at the kitchen window where I could see mum sitting
at the table that looked out onto the backyard, a glass of whiskey
in her hand, poised at her lips. She wasn’t moving and had her eyes
closed. What was she doing? Testing herself, again? Her shoulders
began to shake, and then the other hand reached up to clutch her
forehead, the glass came down and hit the table spilling whiskey
over the edges and onto her hand. She yelled a throat scraping yell
that wrenched at my insides and then suddenly stood up and flung
the glass against the opposite wall. It smashed with little
resistance, sending whisky in all directions and leaving a stain
dripping onto the floor. She fell to her knees beside the table,
crying loudly and horribly. I wanted to turn and run; it hurt so
bad, but there seemed to be a deeper impulse that was driving me
and I quickly ran around the corner and in through the back door. I
knelt down and put my arms around her and had to hold her tight as
she relaxed and fell into my grasp, crying and sobbing into my
t-shirt. She smelt terrible. Completely soaked in alcohol fumes. An
empty bottle of whiskey lay in the corner of the kitchen. The
leaflet I had left by the phone lay next to it screwed up into a
ball.

“
I love you mum.”

She couldn’t
really say anything coherent through the tears and sobs, but when
she had cried enough, she quietened down and held my arm.

I couldn’t
think of saying anything worthwhile, anything that would mean
something to her so we just knelt there together for a short
while.

She raised her
head slightly and said, “You’re going to have to take me to the
hospital.”

“
OK.”

I tried to
move but she didn’t move with me and she was too heavy for me to
lift by myself so I just waited until she was ready.

Her hand was
the first thing to move. It took me by the shoulder and she
released her weight from me so I could help her to her feet.

She leaned
against the table for a while and then started looking for the car
keys before falling against the cupboards and vomiting as she hit
the ground.

I stood there
for a while, shocked and then angry. I wanted to leave her, run
away and let her die of her own stupidity. But I felt compelled to
stay and look at my mother writhing on the ground before me, an all
too familiar mess. I decided to get her a glass of water even as
the anger continued to ride high in my emotions, knowing that there
wasn’t really anything I could do to help. Somehow I knew that she
wasn’t so bad that an ambulance needed to be called, so I just sat
for a while until she got a grip of herself, took some sips of the
water, turned away from the smell of her own vomit and began
struggling to get herself to her feet again. She found the car keys
this time without falling and handed them to me as she passed the
stain on the wall, ignoring it and looking towards the backdoor
where she was heading. “You can drop me off and take the car back
if you want.”

“
Ok.”

When we got to
the building I started unbuckling my seat belt, but she said “It’s
alright, I don’t need you in there. I’ll ask about that Bridge
programme that was on the leaflet you left.”

“
Ok.”

“
Just drop the car off and lock the doors when you
leave.”

“
Sure.” I took the house key off the key ring and gave it to
her. “Mum?”

“
Yeah?”

“
I think I’d like to join you. Sometime, if that’s
alright.”

“
For what?”

“
If you go to the Bridge programme.” I looked down at my feet
resting on the car pedals. “I’ve been having memory
lapses.”

She looked at
me and smiled. “I love you son.”

“
Thanks.”

She began to
move out of the car.

“
Hey Mum.”

“
Yeah?”

I paused, not
really sure why I was asking. A part of me felt like I was doing it
for her, another part for myself because I had finally got to the
point where I really felt like I needed it, but also, because it
just felt like the right thing to do.

“
What is it son?”

“
Would you like to come to church with me sometime?”

She looked me
in the eyes and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

I watched her
go through the sliding doors into the reception and talk to a
nurse, then started up the car and drove off.

I started to
see things a lot clearer now. Mum had tested herself to the point
where she had to break free, where the struggle to be free was a
prison within itself. She got rid of that prison with one simple
act of retribution aimed at the whiskey. Hopefully this would be
enough for her, enough at least to start her on a path towards
recovery from her addiction.

I got back to
the house and dropped the car keys on the kitchen table and set
about cleaning up the mess that Mum had left. There was whiskey
spilled over the floor, under the table and along the bench-top
where she must have been so drunk that she had completely missed
the glass – it wouldn’t have surprised me if she had tried licking
it up. I took the hand-shovel and brush out of the hot-water
cupboard and swept up the broken glass, dumping it into the outside
rubbish bin. I felt stupid doing it, but I also felt like I needed
to do it. I had done so little for Mum. She never blamed me for Dad
leaving but I could always tell that a part of her hated me for not
helping her through that, for being so caught up in my own problems
that I had practically ignored everything that had happened to her.
I was the worst kind of son.

I couldn’t
help looking at the stain on the wall as I soaked a cloth in a
bucket of hot water. It looked suspiciously like the outline of
someone’s head. I was still angry and needed to vent that anger:
Mum had vented hers – there was no reason why I couldn’t vent
mine.

I saw Claire’s eyes piercing through me in the reflection of
the rear-view mirror. Her smile was unreserved, without doubt, with
utter conviction:
“We’re doing it for
Jesus!”

I couldn’t
believe that she had made Jesus an accomplice in her crime. Like he
had personally asked them to go and rip that person’s lawn up.

“
Forgiveness is the way of the Christ
”
I remember someone saying once.

But I couldn’t forgive. What I felt in me wasn’t something
that Jesus would ever sanction, but it was something that
I
wanted. And
I
wanted it
bad.

Fuck Jesus!
I’m doing this for myself!

Part X

–
On another plate
–

“
I know someone who knows Rucker. He could possibly keep me
informed about his whereabouts.”

“
Does this guy hate Rucker too?”

“
Nah, David. He just doesn’t give a shit what happens to him.
Most people know what Rucker’s like and only those who he steals
from are so hateful that they want something bad to happen to him.
Other people like us are kinda just waiting for something to
happen.”

I assumed that
when he said ‘us’ that he wasn’t including me.

“
It won’t be a set-up, just an opportunity that I’ll be looking
for and let you know when the time is ripe. OK?”

“
Sweet.”

“
Good, but you’ve gotta take it when it comes alright?
Otherwise it’s just a wasted opportunity.”

“
No problem.”

Being back at
the Laundry Rentals was partially welcome, but only because my
hours were mostly part-time and the work didn’t require any
thinking, and little answering to stupid bosses. In fact I kinda
liked both my bosses there – it’s always nice when you get a
second-in-charge who empathises with you.

Unfortunately
I only had one thing on my mind now and it was distracting me to
the point where work was becoming burdensome.

I received the
txt from Lucas at 11:00am: Rucker was heading down Lindesfarne Road
and was about to meet a friend in the gardens – the friend wasn’t
going to be turning up because he didn’t want to take the chance of
getting wet from the expected rainfall. I looked outside: the
clouds were practically waiting for the right moment to pour
bucket-loads down. I didn’t fancy being out there working for
another hour when it happened either – nor did I want the chance of
losing this opportunity to get the revenge I had been waiting for.
Just as I had resolved to go in and ask the boss if she wanted me
to continue working or just come back another day when it wasn’t
going to rain, the rain started falling in a gentle wash of wind
creating episodes of torrential downpours between calm moments that
gave me ample enough time to get at least some work done. But I had
settled to ask for the rest of the day off in a roundabout way that
at least showed that I was only making a suggestion, and hopefully
planting the idea in the boss’s head in the meantime.

She was
sitting at her seat surrounded by the assistant manager and an
outside employee of the company.

“
Umm, sorry to interrupt, but do you want me to carry on
working or just go home and come back when there is less chance of
the laundry sacks getting wet?”

She folded her
arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“
I just thought that if you wanted me to come back later when
its dryer then I could, that’s all.”

“
That little bit of rain won’t harm anything. Give me one good
reason why you can’t continue working through it.”

I had no idea
what to come back with and was silent for a moment. She raised her
eyebrows at me either expecting a reply or just expecting me to get
back to work. And then to save me any further embarrassment, the
sound of hail crashing like thunder on the tin roof of the
warehouse broke the silence …and a few faces as well.

The assistant
manager looked at the boss. “That sounds like a pretty good
reason.”

There was
laughter, but the boss just looked at me with a smirk and said
“fine, you win. Take the day off”.

I casually
walked to my locker saying farewell to the ladies and promising
them my return some other day, but as soon as I picked up my keys
and my jacket, I ran like a fucker to my car trying to dodge the
hail by running alongside trucks and under as many trees as
possible, but also because I was in a hurry to get some much needed
vengeance.