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Literature Text
A telephone rings in a darkened hotel room. A lap-top lies open and glowing on the table. An expensive suit hangs from the mirrored wardrobe. A male figure enters the room wearing only a towel, switches on the light, then answers the phone as he sits on the edge of the bed.
Hello...(pause) Is she definitely still round at my Grans? Has she calmed down any?...At least she's safe now though, that's the main thing. Was it the neighbours who called them?...I'm usually the first person to complain about their interfering but it just goes to show you eh?
The thing is mate, I trusted him. I trusted him not only with my house and everything in it, but with my own flesh and blood. I would never have let his wee fella out of my sight for a minute. Jesus, what am I doing here? I should be at home with her telling her everything's all right, everything's all right...
The man stands up and runs his hand through his wet hair, tilting his head back. His teeth are gritted and his eyes are tightly forced shut as a solitary tear rolls slowly down his face. The receiver remains held against his ear, but the voice on the other end of the line gets no response. The man swallows hard and flops back down onto the bed.
I’ll tell you one thing though, if she remembers this night in years to come with a fear, and can still feel the burn of loneliness, then everything I’ve ever done to comfort him will mean nothing. I mean, the nights I’ve spent with him in my arms, squeezing me so hard that it felt like he was falling. I wish I’d let him fucking fall. But oh no, everybody kept saying, “But he’s your brother” like some kind of automatic response folk use when they don’t want to say what their really thinking. None of their business. Family stuff. Of course you feel obliged, pressured even. Ever since he lost his wee fella he’s been falling. You'd think that him of all people would know how it feels to be left on your own. First he ruined his marriage, then systematically destroyed his wife's life and to cap it all off he gained custody of a child that he didn't even want in the first place. If my Mum was still alive she'd probably find some lame excuse for him, she always did. You must have seen that. He was always the golden child, no matter what any of us did wrong.....or right for that matter.
Sometimes I think that the wee fella is the only one who escaped the all consuming, fucking self obsessed neurosis of the man. You've got to understand mate, no-body ever talks about the wee fella, but there's no escaping the fact that if it wasn't for his Dad's inability to consider other people over his own fucked up life, then he might just still be here. I'm not afraid to say it because I'm the one who has soaked up all of the accusing looks and the disguised comments, his very own emotion-proof cloak that he pulls over himself when the ghosts from his past hunt him down and try to tear his rotten soul away from him.
There’s only so long you can hold someone else’s life together before your own gets pulled down with it for fucks sake . I really thought he was getting his act back together what with the job and all that. Addiction only works as an excuse for so long, he can't keep throwing opportunities away like this. It just shows you how the man's mind works, hide behind the people who love you just long enough to gain their trust then, bingo, everything goes round in circles again. Never his fault, always someone or something else to blame.
Here I am lying in a hotel room, miles away from home, trying to justify to my best mate how my own brother managed to leave my three year old daughter locked up in my own fucking toilet. Where's he gone then? Gone out for a score because big brothers away on business? Is that his safety blanket when I'm not there? Smack, the big H, his knight in fucking shining tin-foil. Jesus, it's not as if a three year old is going to damage his fragile sense of self. Then again he's probably jealous of her innocence in some kind of twisted way...what am I doing anyway? I shouldn’t have to justify anything he does to anyone. But then again even you would probably come back at me with, “but he’s your brother."
The man sits bolt upright on the edge of the bed, his face looks alarmingly puzzled.
What do you mean, shut up?.. (Pause). I'm not just having a go at you it's everyone who's ever spouted that crap.....(pause) Stop fucking about and tell me what's up... I don't like the tone of your voice man, tell me what's wrong...he is alright isn't he?... (pause)
The man's hand, lets go of the receiver.
Hello...(pause) Is she definitely still round at my Grans? Has she calmed down any?...At least she's safe now though, that's the main thing. Was it the neighbours who called them?...I'm usually the first person to complain about their interfering but it just goes to show you eh?
The thing is mate, I trusted him. I trusted him not only with my house and everything in it, but with my own flesh and blood. I would never have let his wee fella out of my sight for a minute. Jesus, what am I doing here? I should be at home with her telling her everything's all right, everything's all right...
The man stands up and runs his hand through his wet hair, tilting his head back. His teeth are gritted and his eyes are tightly forced shut as a solitary tear rolls slowly down his face. The receiver remains held against his ear, but the voice on the other end of the line gets no response. The man swallows hard and flops back down onto the bed.
I’ll tell you one thing though, if she remembers this night in years to come with a fear, and can still feel the burn of loneliness, then everything I’ve ever done to comfort him will mean nothing. I mean, the nights I’ve spent with him in my arms, squeezing me so hard that it felt like he was falling. I wish I’d let him fucking fall. But oh no, everybody kept saying, “But he’s your brother” like some kind of automatic response folk use when they don’t want to say what their really thinking. None of their business. Family stuff. Of course you feel obliged, pressured even. Ever since he lost his wee fella he’s been falling. You'd think that him of all people would know how it feels to be left on your own. First he ruined his marriage, then systematically destroyed his wife's life and to cap it all off he gained custody of a child that he didn't even want in the first place. If my Mum was still alive she'd probably find some lame excuse for him, she always did. You must have seen that. He was always the golden child, no matter what any of us did wrong.....or right for that matter.
Sometimes I think that the wee fella is the only one who escaped the all consuming, fucking self obsessed neurosis of the man. You've got to understand mate, no-body ever talks about the wee fella, but there's no escaping the fact that if it wasn't for his Dad's inability to consider other people over his own fucked up life, then he might just still be here. I'm not afraid to say it because I'm the one who has soaked up all of the accusing looks and the disguised comments, his very own emotion-proof cloak that he pulls over himself when the ghosts from his past hunt him down and try to tear his rotten soul away from him.
There’s only so long you can hold someone else’s life together before your own gets pulled down with it for fucks sake . I really thought he was getting his act back together what with the job and all that. Addiction only works as an excuse for so long, he can't keep throwing opportunities away like this. It just shows you how the man's mind works, hide behind the people who love you just long enough to gain their trust then, bingo, everything goes round in circles again. Never his fault, always someone or something else to blame.
Here I am lying in a hotel room, miles away from home, trying to justify to my best mate how my own brother managed to leave my three year old daughter locked up in my own fucking toilet. Where's he gone then? Gone out for a score because big brothers away on business? Is that his safety blanket when I'm not there? Smack, the big H, his knight in fucking shining tin-foil. Jesus, it's not as if a three year old is going to damage his fragile sense of self. Then again he's probably jealous of her innocence in some kind of twisted way...what am I doing anyway? I shouldn’t have to justify anything he does to anyone. But then again even you would probably come back at me with, “but he’s your brother."
The man sits bolt upright on the edge of the bed, his face looks alarmingly puzzled.
What do you mean, shut up?.. (Pause). I'm not just having a go at you it's everyone who's ever spouted that crap.....(pause) Stop fucking about and tell me what's up... I don't like the tone of your voice man, tell me what's wrong...he is alright isn't he?... (pause)
The man's hand, lets go of the receiver.
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........a monologue.
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