Quicklinks:
|
Great Writing - Home > Extended > Down
| READING ROOM | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| COMMUNITY | |||
|---|---|---|---|
|
| ABOUT GREAT WRITING | ||
|---|---|---|
|
| WORK AWAITING REVIEW |
|---|
|
| GW IS... |
|---|
|
Great Writing creative writing community is designed to prompt ideas
and provide inspiration and motivation within aspiring and amateur
authors. Whatever your topic; from love poetry to Doctor Who or Harry
Potter fan fiction, Great Writing's online writing group is where you
can make new friends and improve your creative writing. |
| WHO'S ONLINE |
|---|
| We have 738 guests online and 2 members online |
Extended Work
| print friendly version | |
| Down | |
| By 01crusea | ||
| 07 January 2008 | ||
|
Okay. So, I had meant to write a short story - i've been jumping between ideas for a while now. But this one really got me, and I just kept going with it. So it's technically over the 5,000word limit of a SS. “Okay, thank you – make sure you do your homework! Now get out o’ here.” Miss Nyte dismissed her Year 10 history class just as the bell rang, then taking a few seconds to herself as her pupils jumped out of their seats and into their coats. Being the middle of winter, she knew just as well as they did that they wouldn’t be leaving that classroom any time soon. “Err, Jamie? Can I see you for a second?” “Oooh, Jamie seeing Miss after class again?!” “Yeah, how come we’re not invited today either?” “Quite you two,” she calmly addressed the other two legs of this little tripod of friends – almost certainly meaning that they would have absolutely nothing to do as just a duo. “I’ll see you later guys,” Jamie was by far the quietest kid in the class. He never said a word out of line, neither above the accepted volume nor below the preferred tone. But when he did speak, his words had meaning. And these words meant that his friends should run along. “So.” Laura Nyte took a few seconds just to look at her best pupil, “How are you?” It was strange to Jamie that someone so uninvolved as a teacher could become such a caring part of his life. It was at least three times a week that these conversations took place…strange when you consider that Jamie only had history twice a week! “I’m okay…I suppose,” Jamie stumbled through an answer, “I mean, it depends what you mean, you know?” Ah, of course, Laura thought to herself. “Please Jamie, don’t try to hide something from me. I’ve known you four years now and I know you well enough to know that answering a question with another question is your way of saying you don’t want to talk about something.” “Fair enough.” Jamie was going to argue this point. But she was right, “Well, I am okay, I swear.” A further enquiry from Miss Nyte in the simple form of a blank face. “But I am…you know, a little tired. Finding it difficult to keep up with the days, you know?” He continued to stumble over his words – another sign for Laura to be concerned. “Yup, I know that feeling!” Patronising empathy was a speciality Laura had developed in order to make Jamie talk, “But, specifically, though? Could you tell me what it is that’s making you tired? I don’t suppose you’re up all night marking ridiculously lacklustre essays as well, are you?” Jamie laughed, something that lightened the whole conversation, “No, it’s just that…well, I’m one of the people who has to right them! And I’m struggling to fit it all in; I mean, essays in this subject and that, and endless questions in others, and then past exam papers from all of them and all the work I have to do for school.” “Surely you know by now that this school demands the highest levels of dedication from its pupils?” Not an entirely factual statement, but effective in its use nonetheless. “Yeah, well how would you fit in all your marking if you went home to booze and noise and broken this and ‘not good enough’ that, huh?!” Jamie was building up something of a rant. Laura tried to signal that he should be quiet but still he went on, “How do you think you’d manage if all you ever got when you went home was shouted at, or beaten or starved?!” “Okay, okay. I didn’t mean to offend you,” again, not entirely true – offending someone whose trying to hide something always gets them talking, “please, quiet down.” She waited as he regained his composure, although there were visibly a few tears being fought back in his eyes, “Now, I know I’ve said this before, but would you like to talk about it? Not even now. How about I give you my number?” Jamie’s face built back towards the anger of a few seconds ago. He didn’t like people interfering. “Now, hold on. I wouldn’t even expect you to use it,” by this point, she was scribbling down her contact details, being careful not to look at him so as not to seem forceful, “but just in case perhaps? If you ever do want someone to talk to. Or somewhere to go. I’m always there, Jamie.” He was losing the fight against those tears, “Okay, I’ll take it,” and he did, stuffing the piece of paper into his pocket, “but I don’t expect me to use it either.” And with that, the conversation ended. Laura’s face was a mixture of sadness for Jamie and disappointment in herself. Of course she cared about him, she was his teacher. And, on some level, she liked to think that her efforts meant something. They were more than she ever got.
* * * *
As the sun sauntered down for another early night, Jamie sat up in his room, putting everything his mind could give into an English essay. He wasn’t very good at English, he much preferred maths or the sciences – subjects where he could learn how to solve a problem and then fix it. In English, he wasn’t even certain what the problem was. He hated uncertainty. What definitely wasn’t an uncertainty was that the sound of a car pulling up outside the front of Jamie’s house meant that his mind’s efforts were going to be disturbed. He heard he door open momentarily, then a clatter as everything was dropped in the hall, and then a slam as the door closed behind his father. “JAMIE!!!” He was a loud man – being quite a monster even when you could only hear him, “Jamie! Why the fuck is there is all this shite downstairs?!” ‘All this shite’ probably referred to no more than Jamie’s shoes. “Jamie?!” Fear ran through Jamie like a train through a brick wall – he knew that he should have some resistance by now, but in the end, his father was irresistible. “Oi! You there boy? Don’t be sleeping now!” “I’m, I’m not asleep, Dad,” Jamie managed a few words, be they not very loud ones. “What was that?” Dad was just walking through the door, “Did you say something boy? Because I didn’t hear you. And you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t speak up for yourself.” “I said I wasn’t asleep,” Jamie answered nervously. “Well I can see that, can’t I? Think I’m fucking stupid do ya?!” And with that, Jamie was met with the first of this evening’s slaps, “Don’t ever call your old man stupid, boy!” And again, round the back of the head. In his mind, Jamie was apologising over and over. But in reality he was so numbed by years of this abuse that his voice box wouldn’t even react to his brain. Luckily, both Jamie and his father heard the door re-open. And then another crash as more ‘shite’ was dumped in this hallway. For now, at least, Jamie could rest easy for a while. “HEATHER!!!” Jamie’s father balled down to his wife, “When’s dinner and what are we having? I’m fucking starving!” And with that – making sure to break one of the model aeroplanes that Jamie’s grandfather had left him on the way out – Jamie was left alone. Not that he felt it. He could hear the noise from downstairs, as his parents went about kicking the life out of each other for something being left undone – something, Jamie thought, that either of them could have done in five minutes had they been arsed. Not to speak up, though. If he spoke up to them he was sure to suffer.
* * * *
“Jamie! Your dinner’s ready! Hurry up.” Hearing the inevitable anger and impatience in his father voice, Jamie quickly made his way down the stairs and into the dining room. In truth, he had known for some time that food was ready because he could smell it – a skill his mother hadn’t bothered to learn. So, naturally, dinner tonight consisted of a plate of charcoal. “Jesus Christ, Heather – ever think of cooking a meal for us, eh? Something we can eat without shitting a fire place?” “Shut your fucking mouth, you big girl – you’ll eat what you’re given and be happy with it,” it was almost as if she was the mother of two in this household, “I would have been lucky to get something as good as this when I was growing up.” “Yeah, only because the whorehouse wasn’t full board, eh?!” In truth, Heather had at one time been a prostitute. And it was comments like these that would often lead to the worst of this family’s meal times. “Oh aye, lets all pick on the hardest done by ‘ere, shall we?!” She might have been a calm individual on the inside, always looking for the least aggressive ending to a situation, but you’d be hard done by to notice it these days, “How about you take a pop, eh Jamie? Just slag your own mother off, why don’t ya?” Jamie hadn’t said a word. And after years of this sort of situation he was still none the wiser as to whether or not he should be saying something in response. “You keep your fucking mouth shut, you little beggar – this is between me and your mother,” the answer was thrust upon him and should have made things easier. But what wasn’t easy was being around a couple like this when it turned into a real confrontation. “Right!” It was Jamie’s mother’s turn to start with the violence tonight, “Let’s having it out between us then, shall we? Do you want to go first or shall I? Because I’ve got a-fucking-million things that I want to say to you before the night’s out, I can tell ya!” This did seem the opportune moment for Jamie to slip off back upstairs. His father, however, had different ideas. “Stay where you fucking are, you no good bastard,” he was struck still in only the slightest of his movements to get up and go, “don’t you be thinking you can start a mess like this and then sod off upstairs to leave us to it.” “What does it matter if he’s here? What does he ever matter?” Perhaps the fact that ‘he’ was in the room had escaped Jamie’s mother, “Go upstairs and do your homework!” But no. Both mother and son were grabbed by an arm and thrown onto the floor. The father and husband of this little family had finally had enough. And you only had to ask the other members of the family to know that this was a bad thing.
* * * *
“Jamie? Jamie?!” Miss Nyte was half-running down the corridor to get Jamie’s attention, “Jamie Freyn stop where you are this instant!” “Oooh, forget to call her did–” “Shut up!” She wasn’t messing around with the other two today, “Get to your classes – now! Not you, Jamie. I’d like a word.” The two of them walked down the humanities corridor in silence, although it was probably a safe thing to say that they both had at least some amount of noise drowning out their minds. “Please, sit down,” they were in Miss Nyte’s office – a place Jamie hadn’t actually been before, “would you like a drink? Tea, coffee?” “No.” “I don’t suppose you’re in a very talkative mood, then?” The answer was obvious, and it both amused and angered Jamie to think that he might actually be required to give an answer. “No, thought not,” seconds went by in silence – she couldn’t think what to say. The matter being brought to attention was obvious: Jamie’s entire face seemed at least 50% bigger than the day before and his whole complexion was black and blue. Still, there was nothing he wanted to say. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” Laura asked, skipping straight to the point in hand. And not waiting for an answer, “Or should I jump to all the wrong conclusions and just call the Headmaster now? Hmm? Or perhaps skip him, straight to social services?” Silence. “Jamie, please!” If he’d needed proof that she cared for him beforehand, the look of complete desperation on her face now would have confirmed it, “I’d like to know why you look like that and I’d like to know now.” Caring for someone didn’t mean that you weren’t to be forceful. “Nothing,” Jamie mumbled, hardly loud enough to stir the air in front of his face. “Nothing? You’re body just changed colour, did it? Some sort of nuclear fall out I might be unaware of in the Freyn house is there?” Mocking and antagonising a shy person is all very well under the appropriate circumstances. But in this case – that it, a person driven beyond shyness and into a fear of speaking – it only served to make things worse. “Jamie? … Jamie?” Much more gentle, he’ll speak when he’s ready, she thought, and I can take some time if I need to. “It was Dad.” Her face turned to stone. It had been midway through changing from a demanding glare to an encouraging raise of the eyebrows when Jamie caught her completely off guard by opening up. “He hit me.” “Erm, well–” “And he hit mom. And he hit us both.” Far from stumbling over his words, Jamie knew exactly what he was trying to say. He also knew what he didn’t mean to say, and it was this that was hampering any progress that might have been made. Laura was having to pick her words carefully, “And, erm, he hit you a lot?” “Yeah,” Jamie said, returning to his quietest volume and letting out more of a difficult sigh than an answer. “You and your mother?” “Yes.” “And is she as bad– I mean, does she look as bad as you do?” They weren’t the best words to use but it was what would have to do. "Worse,” quite a terrible lack of surprise hung in the air for a second or two. Then, “He was worse than ever. Punching and kicking, and moving between as if we were toys that he could choose to get bored of whenever he wanted.” It was Miss Nyte who now suffered from a complete numbing. “They haven’t left the house since. Neither of them. They’re just there – mom upstairs in bed, with broken bones and god knows what else,” his tears were finding it even easier to escape then they had the day before, “and he’s just locked away on a sofa, drinking away the shame I suppose.” “And have you not informed anyone?” The urgency in her voice was only natural; any human being might wonder as to how help cannot have been provided in horrible situations like these, “You didn’t, did you?” There was no need to wait for an answer – Jamie’s own shame was evident, “Okay. Well can I?” Back to silence. And no more words would be said between these two. Laura simply picked up the phone, dialled through to the Headmaster and set about having some help brought to the Freyn house. Jamie wondered what he’d done.
* * * *
What followed was a near complete upheaval of Jamie’s world. The horror of what happened that night quickly became evident. Heather Freyn was taken to hospital with severe internal damage, and would be pronounced dead within 48hours as a result of the trauma her body had been through. Her husband was also hospitalised – specifically due to both the breaking of various bones in his hands and feet, and also due to an extreme intake of alcohol in a short amount of time (namely, three bottles of Scotch in one night). Jamie himself, as could be expected, suffered great mental trauma. Upon the death of his mother and the complete removal of his father – forced upon the situation by law – it was an unexpected conclusion to events that Jamie would end up in the care of one Miss Laura Nyte, his history teacher. Not that he would be expected to return to school any time soon. In fact, he was allowed the rest of the fiscal year off in order to recover both physically and emotionally. He would return to the beginning of Year 10 in the summer. This is where we find him.
* * * *
“Jamie? Jamie…” she opened the door to his room with enough care not to be aggressive, but certainly making her presence known, “Come on, Jamie – we both know you can’t miss anything today.” Some sort of extended consonant-only noise was what she received as a response. “Jamie!” Once a history teacher, always a history teacher. And she had swiftly turned to her capabilities volume-wise, “Get uu-p!” Accompanying herself with the release of the mute button on her megaphone, her presence moved swiftly from slight to unavoidable. “Okay, okay! I’m up…just quiet down already,” cheeky, perhaps but it was 6:45am and she could forgive him his frustration. Besides, he was used to the antics, and actually started laughing. “Right, breakfast is up in fifteen minutes, get yourself showered and dressed, and meet me downstairs with a fully prepared school bag.” And she was gone. To Jamie, Miss Nyte had been a revelation in his disrupted life. No longer did he have to worry about violence or aggression or any kind of abuse. Instead, he simply had to pull his weight with a fair share of the house chores and make sure that all his studies were done as best as he could do them. Things were definitely better these days.
* * * *
The drive to school was a quiet one. For all Laura knew it was a crippling fear of what school used to be associated with for Jamie that was making him hold his entire being still. However, when the sports section of the news came on the radio it was suddenly clear that no such thought was inside his mind. “I can’t believe it,” it had just been announced that England’s most highly-rated scrum-half would be sidelined for a minimum of six months with cruciate ligament damage – meaning that he would miss the World Cup, “he’s only recently come back to the best of his form!” “Now, now – it’s only a game,” Laura knew full well that it was much more than a game to Jamie – he had been playing rugby himself for just over three months now and was already a complete addict. Besides, she was inwardly very disappointed for England…even if she didn’t know what a scrum-half was! “Yeah, you would say that. Although I seem to remember it wasn’t me who cried when England crashed out of the last football World Cup…on penalties…again!” This friendly banter went on for the remained of the journey. Twenty minutes later, it was a final prep talk from carer to cared-for, and then Jamie was left entirely to his own devices for the first time in half a year.
* * * *
“So! For the last time, does everybody understand the process used to separate the copper contents of a copper sulphate solution?” Nothing, “No questions? Last chance! … Good, see you next week kids.” It wasn’t for the fact that either he or his lessons were particularly disliked by his pupils but, needless to say, what followed was a mad rush to the door, and within around 43seconds there was not one person left in class with Mr Hardy. No more than ten steps out of the door and away from the classroom – again, not because they didn’t like physics – every one of the Year 10s had forgotten even what a copper sulphate solution consisted of and were busy thinking ahead to their evening of what looked certain to be gorgeous weather. “So, what does she do on a night as good as tonight then, huh?” Jamie was being pushed for information on the school’s least favourite history teacher. There were only two, and she wasn’t even preferred to the slight facial hair of Mrs Lumis! Jamie, for one, didn’t find this particularly fair, “Well, she’s definitely not one for just sitting about and relaxing,” he explained, feeling a little bit guilty for sharing personal details but not daring to shun his new friends, “I mean, if she ever did get a moment free from all the work she gets buried under.” “Uh-huh, not fair, is it Jamie?” The tone was undeniably sarcastic. But still, it wouldn’t get any anger out Jamie – not after his sudden maturity into a young man, and not a boy. “Well no, it isn’t. And don’t think you could make me say something that’ll be turned into something I didn’t mean, yeah? I’d sooner smash your teeth out than be the source of all ridicule.” Spending so much time waiting in a room by himself, Jamie had taken to reading as many books as he did take showers (a lot compared to his personal hygiene in the past), and the effect on his vocabulary was noticeable. “Ha, you got told!” The effect on his social skills was clear, too – and it actually served him quite well to be able to make threats without being considered a bully. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t go licking her arse too much, you little–” the quick but hard punch to the upper arm shut Jamie’s new friend up soon enough. And it was all received in good fun, as the group walked round to the front of the school and were courteous enough to Miss Nyte as she and Jamie set off home.
* * * *
Sat around the table later that night – quietly enjoying a chilli con carne, with the windows open and an old Dire Straits CD playing in the background – Jamie and Laura made quite the effective duo in discussing who should succeed as President of the United States. “Granted, being named only a letter away from Osama, and being of that skin colour in what many still believe to be the most racist country on earth isn’t going to work in his favour!” Laura supported Barrack Obama mainly because she liked trying out new things…like listening to Brothers in Arms over 20years after its initial release, “But I still don’t see how anyone else can possibly claim to have better policies!” “Really? I mean, okay – I agree entirely that he’s sound in what he says. But I’m not convinced that it isn’t just his aura of freshness that’s persuading everybody as opposed to his actual credentials.” Not even able to name Tony Blair’s Deputy Prime Minister 18months before now, Jamie’s knowledge and understanding of the world had come a long way. “Well, luckily for both of us and the USA, its not a choice to be made by a school teacher and her young friend now, is it?” “Best point you’ve made so far!” She couldn’t help but be charmed into a laugh, “A-thank you, thank you,” she said, struggling to get her words past both a chuckle and a piece of garlic bread at the same time, “So, how was school? We haven’t really talked too much about it.” “Erm, it was okay I. Nothing particularly outstanding to be mentioned but that’s probably a good thing for now, right?” “Right. Just keep steady, right?” “Exactly,” she’d become more than just a teacher-cum-friend to him in recent times; definitely more than a carer. She was his go-to figure, and he enjoyed sitting and talking to her like this, “Thanks, by the way.” “For what?” She was taken aback by his openness, even after all this time. “Everything…just thanks. I couldn’t keep going without you.” It was an awkward moment; neither one of the individuals could ever have thought that they’d be so close to the other one, but yet – here they were. Co-existing. Co-operating. Caring. “No problem.”
* * * *
The next day, just before leaving the house to go to school, what harmony Jamie and Laura had shared through exchanging conversation the previous evening led to quite an uncomfortable moment. Both being ready to actually leave the house at near enough the same time, there occurred one clichéd situation whereby two people try to fit through one doorway. Naturally, being a cliché, there had been inklings to do something rash on both parties’ minds. What isn’t a cliché, though, is that not only is there an age difference of just under a decade between the two, but they would also have to share a half hour’s drive before they could go their separate ways again. It was this potential uncomfortableness that ultimately decided that nothing would happen. Unfortunately, however, it was also what led to an ensuing uncomfortableness throughout the aforementioned commute. Indeed, the strain had not even disappeared by the time the evening came later on civility to continue. “Pass the butter.” For the slightest hint of a second, Laura had been appalled at Jamie’s lack of manners. But then, soon enough, she recalled herself what had happened to cause the trouble of that day, and complied. Putting his usual helping of Utterly Butterly onto an open jacket potato, Jamie was rather enjoying himself in devouring another proper meal. Laura, on the other hand, was finding it less easy to ignore the tension, and could wait no longer than another minute before breaking the silence, “Jamie, please – let’s at least be grown up about this.” “About what?” “Jamie!” Her tone was firm but far from angry – she genuinely did want them to be adults. “Okay, okay, let’s be grown up,” Jamie grumbled out what he knew would give him a second or two of peace; only to decide that he had more to say, “I like you.” Going from teacher, to friend, to carer and finally to whatever might be said of her where she was to Jamie now – even having know him so long – it was just too difficult for Laura to find an answer to this statement. “Sorry.” “No!” It was instinct that blurted this out, and Laura was suddenly all too aware how it meant the end of their tranquillity together, “I mean, okay. Erm, there’s no need to apologise. For what it’s worth, I like you too – we make a good little unit.” “No, I mean I like you.” Laura gave a sigh, “Jamie…” “I’m sorry, okay? But I do. You really do mean a lot to me – you’ve no idea. And it’s hard not being able to show you how important you are; so I may as well tell you.” “Why Jamie?” She continued before he could blurt out whatever misunderstood answer he had thought of, “Why does it have to be like that? I like you, Jamie, I really do. But it’s just not going to happen…it can’t.” The realisation was too much for him. Far from being an uncomfortable situation, it had now turned into an unbearable one. He said nothing, but silently excused himself from the table and made his way hurriedly upstairs. “Damn it,” Laura muttered to herself – a mixture of disappointment in Jamie and sadness for herself.
* * * *
The slightest creak on the landing was enough to send worry through the feet and straight up into the backbone of the one causing it. Only a few steps left before they could breach the threshold of what room they were aiming for, any thought of abandoning this unforeseen journey was now long gone. Just one more step…and swing the door open oh-so lightly… “Is that you?” A half-woken whisper. “Yeah, are you awake?”
* * * *
Early next morning, waking up with the feeling that what happened last night may or may not have been the best time of his life so far, Jamie found that he was in a need to make his own way to school. Laura, for whatever unknown reason she had decided to follow, had left early, and – reading 7:24 on the microwave – Jamie had to rush through his breakfast (skipping a shower entirely) to call a taxi and hope not to be too late for class.
* * * *
“So, just to see how much you really were paying attention to my fine – yes, I do say so myself – to my fine diagrams, I think I’ll give you all a surprise test this morning!” “Sorry!” Jamie came panting into the room, “Sorry I’m late, Sir – no idea what happened.” “Ah, forget to set your inner clock to its appropriate alarm young Jamie, hmmm? No matter. If you can tell me what the instigating factor behind the process of removing the copper content out of a copper sulphate solution, I will forgive you.” With the whole class gaping at him in expectancy, not of a correct answer but rather more for entertainment’s sake, Jamie felt as if he were back between his parents – the hesitation between being addressed and giving a response stretching out into the seconds as nothing formed on the end of his dried tongue. “No?” Mr Hardy seemed to be enjoying himself, but he was pushed for time, “Very well! Take your seat. You will complete the test as will everybody here – myself included. And then you must see me at the end of the lesson. Now, take one and pass them round. Everybody ready? Thirty minutes…go!” Over the next half an hour, which felt distinctly more like half a day if not more, Jamie sat in blind desperation as to what he should do regarding Laura. No, Miss Nyte, he thought to himself. It was obviously not going to be approved of what had gone on the night before. But neither was it going to be forgotten. Put simply, because he had enjoyed himself, and he was sure that she had too! Again and again, these thoughts rushed through Jamie’s mind until, before he knew it– “Right, bugger off you horrible lot – that was typically disgraceful for a middle set Year 10 group,” he wasn’t in the same sort of good mood as before, “Now, Freyn! Come here boy!” Just from being called Freyn, Jamie knew that he was in trouble. He’d had his surname taunted at him by the very person who he inherited it from enough times, and those in other positions of authority in his life had never shied away from letting it flow out of their mouths like a militarian form of addressing someone. And, for just ten quick but brutal minutes, Mr Hardy laid into Jamie “good and proper!” – in his own words. Punctuality was the key to success, Hardy said. “That and never letting your voice go unheard – if you want to move people, boy, tell them something with all the force you can muster but never let them have it until everything’s ready!" Yes, Jamie thought, Not until it’s ready. “Sorry sir. And thank you.”
* * * *
Just like with the journey going to school that morning, Jamie was left to his own devices getting home at half-past-three in the afternoon. This time, he’d decided that he should take the bus – that way, he’d at least know the route for future reference. When he got home, he was not surprised to find that Laura had indeed left without him – and went straight inside to see her. “Laura!” He called out at the top of his voice, “Laura?!” “Bloody hell, what?” She was only in the living room. “I have to tell you something.” “O-kay, what?” On immediate hindsight, she would have liked to be the one dictating how the conversation would go, but nothing was to be done now. “Right, erm, hang on.” He’d gone over the speech a hundred times in his head – searching for the right words to use and not to use, and making sure there were all in the right order. But now – as is so often the way when a prepared speech is meant to be important! – now he couldn’t remember a thing, “I…” “You?” “I…want to tell you something.” “Right, I got that bit.” “Yes! Good. But, you know, you see, you–” “Jamie, stop. You’re rambling,” even as confused as she was at the time, Laura still had an assured manner, “take your time. You want to tell me?” “I want to tell you,” he dew his breath, “that last night was the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I hope it was the best thing that ever happened to you because I really, REALLY like you and I can’t bear the thought of us not being together, now, as we are.” “As we are?” “Yes.” “And how, exactly, are we?” “Well, we’re…erm…you know!” “No Jamie, I don’t. And neither do you.” “I do!” “No! You can’t!” It was difficult to see who was taking control of what, “We can’t Jamie…” And then he knew. For all the thought that had been put into his speech, for all the passion that had been shared the night before, and for all the hopes that he had had for the immediate future…he knew that it would all be for nothing. “We just can’t,” she said again, trying to reinforce the reality upon him but not even sounding as if she believed it herself. “But I do. You do,” his voice was steady – not entirely sure of its direction, but steady nonetheless, “I love you.” Tears burst from her eyes as if a lifelong’s worth of pain and anguish had been stored up overnight, only to be released by the smallest of joys. “I love you, Laura.” Between sobs, she managed what Jamie could only assume were the words, “I love you too.” Leaving nothing in the room but the sound of her quietly letting out all her emotional turmoil onto Jamie’s shoulder, Laura felt utterly exhausted by the confusion. What made matters worse was the sound of gravel up the drive. Followed by the realisation that a car had pulled up without them realising – even worse, the realisation it had the word POLICE on the side – both Laura’s tears and Jamie’s inner rejoices were halted. “Miss Nyte?!” A firm voice, clearly trying to stay neutral but not able to disguise its holder’s views for what had happened. “Miss Nyte?” “Oh no,” this was all that Laura could even come out with. Between her weakness and Jamie’s strength of mind, between them they had broken one of society’s most firm laws. She might not have been teaching Jamie anymore, and he may have been old enough to have sexual relations, but still, that wasn’t good enough for the eye of the law. “What do we do?” Jamie was bewildered. “There’s only one thing we can do,” was Laura’s response – taking a grasp of Jamie’s hand and, before he could protest, reaching to open the door, “I’m Laura Nyte.” “Ma’am, come with me please.” A final embrace, cut short by the attending officer, and Laura was taken away from questioning. After all the turmoil of just over seven months now – even for his entire life! – for all that had looked to be going so well in his life, Jamie was left alone. Falling down to his knees like the orphaned boy that he was, he wept until his eyes could weep no more. Everything was so ready, he thought to himself. I’m so ready.
Only registered users can rate and write comments. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
||
Next item
|
|---|