10.45pm.

    “She’s phoning early isn’t she?” he asked nobody but did so out of habit anyway.

     ‘It’s not her’

    “Shut up!”

He stared at his watch again, shell-shocked.  “Is that the time already!”  he gasped,  “where the hell did the last hour and a half go?”

    It wasn’t Alison, but somebody wanting to order a ham and pepperoni pizza with extra pineapple.

    After politely informing them they had the wrong number, he replaced the receiver in it’s cradle and wrestled down the thought he knew was about to surface.

        ‘You want to try and do that more often’

       “You couldn’t keep quiet for long could you?” Ray said aloud causing Jenny to raise her head quizzically.  “It’s all right, I wasn’t talking to you furball, I was talking to...”

      Stopping himself, he realised how stupid he must have looked telling a dog he wasn’t talking to her but was holding a conversation with an empty room.

       ‘I wish you’d get it into your head I’m on your side; I don’t like seeing you like this; I……I

want to help.’

       “Well start by getting the hell out of my head!”  His anger had resurfaced partly due to the telephone caller not being Alison, and partly because he was arguing with himself again.

        Jenny laboured to her feet and shuffled off to a safer position behind one of the armchairs in an attempt to hide herself from the ensuing onslaught.

       ‘If I go, who are you going to be left with? Who are you going to turn to when you are alone and frightened and confused?  You reckon you can survive on your own?  You reckon you can think for yourself, make decisions, wipe your arse without me behind you telling you what to do?  No chance!’

      “Why not exaggerate just a tiny bit?”

      Think of all the times I’ve been there to make your decisions for you, to push you in the right direction and to reassure you when you’re in one of your “I’m useless, nobody likes me moods.”  I’m sorry matey, I’m going nowhere,  you’re stuck with me.  If I left you to your own devices, you’d destroy yourself within a month.’

       “Don’t talk crap, I’ve survived all these years!”

       ‘You’ve survived have you?  Done it all on your own eh?’ 

     The tone with which this was said was neither contentious nor patronising, but was delivered with just the right amount of venom to kill off any further attacks.

       Ray tried to fight back but his determination to win this battle was quickly eroded by the stark realisation that he had, over the years, come to rely on his tête-à-tête’s with his on-board counsellor and guide.  He remembered on countless occasions asking for, and acting upon, advice he had been given on a wide range of subjects from what clothes to buy to whether or not he should ask Alison to go out with him to the pictures all those years ago.

          Had he come to rely on there always being someone available at his beck and call 24 hours a day, 365 days a year?  Was it a habit, like smoking; something you could only give up if you really, really wanted to.  Or was there more to it?

        Someone or something.

        He could never quite identify whether it was a body within his body, or if it was some form of entity, an unknown presence that exists somewhere between here and insanity.  Or maybe it was just a vivid imagination?  He felt, mentally, as if he were speaking to himself; like you feel when you are reading a book; but physically, on the cold, hard surface where rationality and awareness merge, he would swear black was white that he was talking to a corporeal presence.

         ‘Everyday for 22 years, since you started secondary school, I’ve listened to you belittle and demean yourself.  I’ve seen you turn potential triumphs into cataclysmic disasters.  I’ve watched you waste so many opportunities.  It’s unfair that one person should be allowed to monopolise wasting things like you do.  Why Ray?  Why do it?’

      “I don’t need to hear this right now, if you want to talk change the record” 

      ‘Well that’s where you’ve drawn the short straw old chum, because whereas I can switch you off, you haven’t got a choice;  I talk, you listen; thems the rules so lets start playing!’

      Ray knew only too well that he was powerless; he’d tried and failed before, more than once, more times than he could, or even wanted to, remember.  When it came to putting an uninvited opinion across his ‘friend’ was unerringly competent. The last time they had a ‘conversation’ like this it continued non-stop for 3 hours, during which time Ray’s contribution must have taken up all of 15 minutes.  He hoped he wasn’t in for another marathon session.

    “Look, it’s approaching New Year, can’t this wait ‘til then, actually next November would suit me?” Ray asked hopefully knowing full well that he was wasting his time.

    ‘It’s precisely because of the New Year that this has to be sorted out now, can’t you see that?’

    “No.”

    ‘You are in the perfect position to make something of your life next year’

      “Oh yeah that’ll be about right!”  Ray said trying hard to disguise the sarcastic tone in his voice, “out of work with no immediate prospects, skint, on my own...”

      ‘You’ve got people, family’

    “You know what I mean!  All the ingredients for a successful year ahead.  Of course, how could I have been so blind, hurry up midnight I can’t wait for this fantastic year of opportunity to begin!”  Rather than hold back, which would have been his usual course of action, he let the sarcasm flow.  It made him feel more relaxed, as if he was actually going to enjoy this.

      ‘It’s really important for you to be in a relationship isn’t it?’

      Caught off guard by this change in direction, Ray found himself for the first time in months, probably longer, answering a question without first thinking whether it was the answer he should be giving or the one he wanted to give.

      “Yes it is important.”  Ray calmed instantly.  It was as if someone had turned his attitude switch from the angry, uptight, offensive position to that of vulnerable, precarious, defensive, in one swift movement missing everything in between.  “I need to be showing affection to somebody, feeling close to someone; not just physically but actually inside.  You know, that feeling of empathy, of identifying with one person, knowing that you are together even though you’re miles apart.  A kind of psychic bonding.”

      ‘I don’t know the feeling but I understand what you’re saying.  You say it’s you that needs to show these feelings towards another person, but isn’t it really a case of you wanting attention from others?  A convenient way for you not to feel lonely or left out?’

      Quelling the sudden rush of anger which threatened to explode into his head like water from a breached dam, Ray resisted the temptation to rant and rave and damn all civilisation to hell by instead answering calmly and logically, “If that were so, it wouldn’t be that important who the other person was would it?  Therefore, I would be frequently changing partners, to gain more and more attention, instead of staying with just the one for long periods of time, true?”

      ‘Possibly, but...’

      “No buts,” Ray interrupted, secretly thrilled at being on top for once, at least for the time being, “you just think for a minute of the relationships I’ve been in and how long they have lasted.”

      There was a welcome silence during which Ray turned his attention to the television. 

      The ‘end of the year show’ advertised earlier had started.  It looked to be of the usual format: a relatively famous presenter interviewing the nations favourite celebrities interspersed with snippets of film reflecting events that had grabbed the headlines during the year.  Basically, a review of the highlights of the previous twelve months, interrupted by inconsequential chat.

      Glancing at his watch, Ray noticed the time had sped on to 11.09pm.  “She’ll definitely be out by  now, well on her way to getting pissed.”  He said, unable to stop the thought escaping.

      The scene on the T.V. screen had changed and was now showing a group of people leaving a pub, crossing the car park, and getting into a car.  It was a modest 4 door saloon, nothing special, but to Ray it looked familiar.  As he became more attentive to what was happening on the screen, the more certain he was that he knew a couple of the characters but for the life of him could not place where he had seen them before.  He was sure that he knew them in real life; not from ‘television world’.

      The driver seemed to be having trouble getting the ignition key into the lock; a voice from the back seat said they wondered how he had managed to father three children if he took this much time finding the hole.  This caused uproarious laughter from everyone and it was evident that they were full of high spirits; in all senses of the word.

      “I definitely know that voice” Ray found himself saying whilst racking his brain trying to identify its owner.

      ‘And so you should: it’s Alison’

      “No it can’t be! What’s she doing on the televi...?”

      His voice cut off as he watched the car lurch forward and heard the same voice, (“is that really Alison?”), say ‘You sure you’re all right to drive Steve, you’ve had quite a few tonight?’

      The answer was muted by the sound of tyres screeching on tarmac as Steve finally found reverse and exited the parking space far too quickly, narrowly avoiding an expensive looking sports car parked thirty yards behind him.

      Steve’s passengers, who had quietened down dramatically, were telling him to take it easy, calm down, let someone else drive, all at once, but they couldn’t see his eyes like Ray could.  Something in the stare, the shape, even the colour, unsettled Ray.  He could identify with it on a personal level.  He had felt himself stare that way before and knew something very wrong was about to happen.

      The car shot forward out of the gloom of the car park into the bright amber haze cast by the twin arc lights used to illuminate the pub.  Ray was gripping the remote control imploring his finger to move the short distance needed to push the button over which it was hovering and change the channel.  Over and over his mind was screaming, “ALISON!!!”  “ALISON!!!”  “ALISON!!!”  as he fought to move his frozen finger. 

      He could hear the screams coming from the inside of the car as clear as if he was there with them as it left the car park and entered the road where it was immediately bathed in the glare from the headlights of an articulated lorry.

      The next scene hit Ray with the force of a charging rhino.  He was watching an excerpt from Swan Lake being performed by the Moscow Ballet Company who had been touring the country this summer.  Then it was back to the studio where the presenter was introducing another guest for more meaningless drivel.

      Ray felt the familiar ‘click’ inside his head and wondered why he was grasping the remote control like it was a hand grenade with the pin removed, desperately trying not to release his grip in case it exploded.  He also felt a disturbing uneasiness wash over him for a brief instance, he shivered, not through cold but incomprehension, as it passed.

      He was startled by the sound of Jenny barking.  She was standing by the kitchen door indicating that she wanted to go out; she did this by first barking to get your attention, then nudging the door three times with her nose, before looking at you with that ‘if you don’t hurry, I’ll do it here’ look.  Ray decided that it was a good time for another cup of tea anyway and got up to put the kettle on; after letting Jenny out first of course.

      As he stood by the back door waiting for Jenny to finish whatever it was she had got the urge to do, he listened to the noises drifting on the slight, but chilly breeze.  The continuous drone of the traffic on the distant main road mingled with the occasional sound of humans at play; people on their way to or from any one of the six local pubs, where women, young and old, would be dressed in their finest partywear delicately sipping Vodka and tonics or Malibu and cokes, talking and giggling amongst themselves, whilst the men downed another pint and lined up their potential first conquest of the new year.

      “You said something in there just now about Alison, didn’t you?” 

      It was neither a statement nor a question because he couldn’t be sure whether he had experienced anything or not.  The same could be said about a lot of things he ‘thought’ had happened, but no matter how hard he try and how deep he searched his memory he arrived at the same conclusion; he ‘must have imagined something’ or his mind had hic-cupped, in the same way that electricity has the odd power surge now and again wreaking havoc in computers and other audio/visual equipment.

      ‘Didn’t say a thing, I was reading a book’

      “Don’t take the piss, I’m being serious.  Something happened but I just can’t remember what it was, the only thing I can be certain of is Alison’s name being mentioned.  What happened?”

      ‘Nothing happened’

      “You’re lying,” Ray could feel the anger rising again, but knew if he showed too much of it the only response he would get would be silence, which was the last thing he wanted right now; especially being so sure that he was missing something important. “Now tell me the truth…….please!”

      ‘I’m telling you the truth’ the voice lied but cleverly disguised the fact, ‘nothing happened.  You’ve had her on your mind so much lately, even more so tonight, that you’re imagining phantom thoughts about her’.

      It was waffling, but it seemed to do the trick as Ray nodded agreement and shrugged his shoulders in submission.

      He looked down the garden into the inky darkness and just made out Jenny’s shape.  She was still sniffing around so he decided to leave her to it and finish making his mug of tea.

      Before going back inside he glanced up at the cloud covered sky, “I hope it pisses down” he said.

      Leaning against the sink waiting for the kettle to perform its duty, Ray observed his reflection in the window.  It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn’t closed the blinds earlier.  This was something that had become a part of his early evening ritual performed at the same time as washing-up his dinner things, feeding the dog, putting the empty milk bottle out ready for collection the next morning, and planning the nights tele-visual entertainment.

      Routine.  Automatic.  Boring?

      Of course there were times when he became incredibly, mind-numbingly bored.  Who doesn’t when routine is involved?  But, although he constantly strove to improve his own personal environment; looking for easier ways to carry out those mundane tasks that were part of everyday life, he believed that they were necessary, fundamentally essential to everyone’s existence; without which chaos and disorganisation would be the order of the day.

      The thought of not having closed the blinds and shutting out the world beyond the relative comfort of the cocoon he called home, left him with a strange, disconcerted feeling of being exposed: naked, on view to the thousand eyes he felt sure were peering at him through the thin sheet of glass that separated him from the outside world.

      He quickly reached for the cord and snapped the blinds shut.  A wave of relief trickled through him, taking the image but not entirely washing away the anxiety that went with it.

      Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shape approaching him from the direction of the back door.  Spinning round, readying himself to launch the kettle and it’s contents at whoever was creeping up on him, Ray was more than pleased to see the familiar bulk of Jenny standing there looking up at him with a mixed expression on her face: somewhere between quizzical and surprised.

      “I’m going to have to get you one of them bells to hang round your neck like the cows have, then I might hear you coming fatso!”

      Seeing the expression on her face change, Ray could have sworn she was looking at him and thinking, ‘You’ve got a cheek calling me fatso, blubber - boy.’ With that she turned round and plodded off to her basket with her nose in the air.

      “That dogs too human for it’s own good” Ray laughed as he poured the water into his mug.  There were no visions of hot, steaming liquid turning his flesh into a mass of bubbling, pus-ridden sores this time.  Not that he knew anything about it then anyway.  No, the only thought to occupy his mind was Jenny’s actions.  Although wasn’t there something lurking in the background he couldn’t quite identify?

      ‘What does it feel like?’ 

      For the second time in as many minutes, Ray nearly jumped out of his skin..

      “Do you have to do that?” he asked, trying to slow his heart rate down to a safe and normal level.

      ‘Yes, I want one of those bells you’ve been on about’

      “Oh, very funny!” said Ray as he took a sip of tea, his body gradually returning to the relaxed state it had been in before the arrival of his ‘friend’.  “What does what feel like?”

      ‘Being dumped by someone you love’

      The sound of something smashing on the kitchen floor brought Jenny rushing into the room barking wildly, the hackles on the back of her neck risen like the spines of an enraged Porcupine.

      “What!?”  Ray screamed aloud, which encouraged Jenny to bark even more in an attempt to frighten off whatever it was that was threatening her master.

      “Shut up dog!” he yelled at her “get in your bed!”

      After a couple more barks and a final check that her master was not in any life threatening danger that she could tell, she did as she was told and returned to her bed in the lounge; looking around every now and then giving the odd half bark as she went.

      “You heartless bastard.”  Ray stood, dumb-founded, as a small stream of tea worked it’s way around the contours of his bare feet; running in between the cracks of his toes like molten metal runs into every nook and cranny of a mould.  He was oblivious to the heat that was only just bearable. 

      He was oblivious to everything around him as he struggled to take in what he had just heard

      “How can you ask such a thing?”  He couldn’t comprehend how this ‘Thing’, for want of a better word, who had been there for him for twenty odd years, helped him in his hours of need and been his ‘companion’, could voice something like this knowing what he had gone through and how it had affected him.  It was incredulous, beyond belief.

      It hit him in the same way as when Alison had announced, out the blue, that she was leaving.  First came the disbelief, that he hadn’t heard her properly.  Then came the urge to laugh as he thought she was joking, albeit a bad joke, followed by the realisation that she wasn’t joking and that she really was leaving.  This crashed into him, leaving him feeling like an apple thrown into the path of an express train travelling at full speed.

      Finally, total numbness. 

      He remembered thinking this must be what leprosy feels like; unable to feel anything because the nerves in your hands, your feet, practically your whole body, were dead; useless.

      As he re-lived these feelings, an image of Jenny walking into the kitchen, the skin on her face and legs peeled back to reveal dark, putrid flesh,  with a bell hanging around her neck saying ‘Beware, outcast unclean!’ sprang into his mind causing him to stifle the laugh that was rising into his throat; or was he going to be sick?

      Standing over the sink gripping the edges of the worktop, he struggled to swallow down the bitter, acerbic taste of bile that clung to his tongue and mouth like a persistent leech.

      He turned on the cold water tap and let it run, hoping that the natural gravitational flow would wash away the majority of the mess he had just made before he had to look at it.  Whilst this was happening he became aware of a dull, throbbing ache growing in his left foot.  Lifting it slightly, he first saw the bloody impression it left behind on the lino then the jagged shard that protruded from the underside of his foot, and nearly ejected the rest of his dinner into the sink.

      “Jesus Christ! Is anything else going to happen before this shitty year finishes?” he wailed.

      During the time it took to remove the sliver of mug from his foot and replace it with a plaster smothered in antiseptic cream, clean up the mess from the kitchen floor and, reluctantly, that from inside the sink, not a word was said.  Ray couldn’t even think anything to himself.  Such was the shock that one sentence had administered. He could feel a million or more words jostling in the background awaiting the command that would release them into a torrent of phrases, sentences, paragraphs; consisting mainly of abuse and defamation. But he couldn’t be bothered.  At that precise time, he didn’t have the energy nor the motivation to give the command let alone fight the battle that would follow it.

      Instead he made a fresh mug of tea and returned to the lounge.  Jenny was lying by the fire gnawing a bone.  Without stopping, she glanced at Ray as he sat down; giving him a look which said ‘you didn’t have to shout, I was only trying to protect you’.  Noticing the way she looked at him, Ray thought of getting up and giving her belly a good old rub and tickle; something he knew she enjoyed, but decided he’d make it up to her later instead.

      He sensed an atmosphere in the room and likened it to when Alison and he had had one of their rare, but colourful, blazing rows.  It felt exactly as it did at the point after the last words had been exchanged, and before they both gave in and melted into each others arms; not to be seen again for at least three hours.

      He knew that Jenny hadn’t forgiven him for shouting at her, and he could only guess why the inner voice was keeping quiet.  Maybe it was lying low for a while, he thought, or possibly ashamed of itself.  He rejected that assuming the notion that it probably didn’t possess a conscience therefore couldn’t feel shame.

       According to the clock on the wall the time was 11.48pm.  Ray confirmed this by checking his watch. “Twelve minutes to go before my year of opportunity begins!”  Ray was back in sarcasm mode, “now what can I do to pass the time?”

      ‘Let me explain myself?’

      “Thanks for the offer but I’d rather clean the sewers with a toothbrush!”

      ‘I honestly didn’t mean it to sound the way it did, I’m sorry’

      Hearing the sincerity and pleading tone in the voice mellowed Ray a little bit  Not enough to significantly cool the simmering cauldron of rage that still bubbled inside him, and which threatened to boil over given the slightest excuse, but just enough to silence the bitter outburst that had risen as far as his throat before being cut off.

      ‘I can’t feel things like you do.  I don’t know what love feels like, what it’s like to be in love or be loved.  Remember earlier you was talking about your need to be showing affection to somebody, “that feeling of empathy” were your exact words, remember?’

      “Yes, so?”  there was a hint of irritation in Ray’s voice as he was forced to recall their previous argument.

      ‘Remember me saying that I didn’t know the feeling but I understood?’ 

      The voice waited for an answer but Ray just sat there apparently lost in thought, so it continued, ‘well I…’

      “Now hang on a minute,” Ray interrupted, “your trying to tell me you can’t feel emotions, right?”

      ‘Yes that’s what…’

      Cutting the voice off in mid-sentence as if it wasn’t there, Ray carried on, “But surely in your position, wherever you are, you can feel everything exactly as I feel it, see everything as I see it, know what I’m thinking before I do and God knows what other magical tricks you’ve got hidden up your sleeve?”