…and it concludes …
‘This really isn’t good enough, Gabe.’
Gabriel shifted in his plush office chair. ‘What isn’t good enough ?’ he didn’t add ‘God’ at the end of the sentence although he supposed he should, but it really was a nonsense, the way he went on about sorting out the Middle Eastern crisis, as if he was, well, ‘God’.
‘All this…’ God gestured to the folder spread out across the desk. The photos of Sally’s beaten and blackened face fanned out where the paper clip holding them to the written documents had slid aside.
‘This, Gabe. This.’
Gabriel shrugged his elegantly suited shoulders, feeling slightly uncomfortable now he looked at the dossier.
‘Well I know it’s not the best of situations,’ he agreed, ‘but there are some situations you just can’t change without an outside influence.’
‘Well bring in the outside influence!’
‘But it’s against our principles,’ he exclaimed, ‘you know that. A change of heart arising from self-awareness – yes. But not an external influence.’
‘But maybe the external influence is exactly what brings about the self-awareness and change of heart? Are you going to do something about it or am I?’
‘Well if you can tear yourself away from the Middle Eastern crisis for long enough, and think you can do better, why don’t you?’ retorted Gabriel. ’ But it’s all in the mind – remember…’ He sneered and sat back, raising his eyebrows slightly questioningly at God and smiled. ‘And surely the Middle East crisis is more crucial than these two quite unimportant little drama’s…’
God picked up the folder. ‘I think we’ll see what I can do.’ he said decisively, ‘and you’ll owe me several thousand years of apologies if I do it without any ‘external forces’, as you put it, right?’
Gabriel smiled a smile which said ‘yeah, right!’
God sat down opposite Gabriel, and studied him. ‘We have an internal force to work with here already and he just needs to believe in himself to create the will to change. In fact I think it’s happening already.’
Darren breathed out. The sorrow for her pain slowly transformed into anger once more; and then a steady determination that this wasn’t ever going to happen again. He breathed in deeply and then out slowly, letting the breath whistle out between his pursed lips. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew this was the last time. Something felt different inside him. He felt different. Bigger; stronger; bolder. A presence to be reckoned with.
He stood up straight and walked firmly back home.
Walking through the back door straight into the devastation that was the kitchen, he saw saucepans and plates scattered all across the floor, some of the plates broken. There was a pool of blood near the sink and smeared bloodied hand prints along the wall leading away from it and on the edge of the kitchen worktop. There was no sign of his mother, but as he pushed the lounge door ajar, he could see Jed slumped in the armchair, head thrown back, snoring, a pile of emptied lager cans and an ashtray full of the butt ends of joints on the floor near him. Darren turned back to the kitchen and surveyed the scene. He was disgusted and trembling with rage at what he imagined must have happened to his mother. A rolling pin was balanced half on, half off the kitchen table. It had a bloodied end so he guessed it must have been used in the attack. He picked up the non-bloodied end. It would do. He would do this quickly first and then find his mother and tend to her.
He wiped the blood from the rolling pin across his cheeks and forehead, like war paint, drew himself up to his full height and ran into the lounge letting out a series of blood curdling yowls. Jed woke from his stupor but the drug induced haze left him confused. Coming at him in ear splitting rage was Sally – or so he thought – because masked by the blood-paint, his mother’s features showed through his genes, and Darren looked to Jed exactly like she would if she had been an avenging angel straight from hell itself. Darren launched himself at Jed, rolling pin swung high, roaring with anger and crashed it down on his knee caps, shattering both of them and popping them out of their casings. Jed’s legs skittered uselessly against the seat of the chair and he cowered in terror. The lingering combined effect of drugs and alcohol made Darren seem huge and the noise roared around him like a demon.
‘Never touch her again or I’ll destroy you next time.’
‘Don’t hit me, don’t hit me…’ like a whimpering child, Jed cowered in the chair, trembling, and a dark stain crept around his crotch as his control failed and he urinated.
The bully was gone, replaced with a pathetic excuse for a man. Darren stepped back, realising he needn’t become the bully himself now. He threw the rolling pin down and ran from the room, calling ‘mam, mam, where are you. I’m here.’
A small voice replied, ‘Darr, I’m here, help me…’
He found her in the hall, a small pile of bones and bloodied rags on the floor in the corner. He cradled her until the ambulance came and it took both her and Jed to hospital, Jed pinned in the corner, flinching at Darrens’ slightest move in his direction. She would be alright, they said, don’t worry. She would be alright in time.
‘What I fail to see,’ continued Gabriel, with polite sarcasm, ‘is exactly how what you’ve spent the last day doing has contributed to world peace?’
‘It’s the little things, Gabe,’ God said patiently. In his mind’s eye he watched Jed think about cuffing Darren and blacking Sally’s eye, but just as quickly stop himself as he also recalled the avenging hulk that had stood over him –seemingly in Darren’s body, with Darren’s voice. Sally sung softly to herself as she did the dishes out the kitchen. Somewhere soon another Mary would find her Joe – God reflected that the name Joseph was perhaps not modern enough now for the modern idiom, although the human race did have this disconcerting capacity for bringing things back into fashion from nowhere – and then all hell really would break loose. Humankind would need to understand why it was the little things that mattered to deal with that.
‘Hmm, well it’s been interesting,’ Gabriel said with an unconvinced expression. ‘And by the way, would you please stop referring to me as Gabe and yourself as God. We’re not.’
They walked under the archway which led out from the cloistered building. It proclaimed ‘It’s all in the mind. What you think, you are’ on its logo. God smiled at Gabriel’s exasperated expression. He watched him walk briskly away, blissfully unaware of the first sprouting of flight feathers showing through the thin material of his shirt. He wondered idly if he’d have time for a pint before tackling that Middle East problem again.
More stories to follow next week …
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