my
direction.
I sat on my suitcase and laughed quietly. It was a small victory, and I didn't even know
what it was that I had escaped from, but it felt good.
-♪-♫-♪
Joey was waiting for me at the end of the road when I emerged. "You gave them the
slip, well done," he chirped.
"I was worried about you," I said, "you didn't seem to be going very fast."
"Oh, I can do a turn of speed when I need to."
"You mean you were going slower on purpose?"
"Yeah, well ... you're still new to all this, I wanted to lead him away from you." He
grinned, cheekily. "Don't worry about me, they never catch me. I know this town better
than any of them."
We walked across the busy market place and down to the beach that I had once thought
of as my own. A picture of Oliver flashed into my mind, so vivid that it seemed to me it
must be visible to everyone around. Oliver smiling, talking, walking. I wondered where
he was, what had happened to him, why he had vanished.
"You ok, Bell?" Joey was studying my face.
I realised I had stopped walking and was staring along the beach. I looked down,
sheepishly. The memories of Oliver had transported me into the past and reminded me
how important he had been in my life for a short while.
"I'm fine, thanks. I used to come down here every day. There was someone I cared
about."
"A boy?"
I nodded, sadly. "It wasn't love, or anything like that; just friends. I wish I could go back
to those days, they were good."
Joey stopped walking, put his hands on my shoulders and fixed me with an analytical
gaze. He had to reach up, as he was six inches shorter than me, but his expression was
that of a man twice his age. "Life comes in two bits, Bell," he said gravely. "Yesterday ...
and all the rest."
He grinned. "Someone told me that, and it's stayed with me. He was a drop-out, a drunk
who lived on the streets here in Yarmouth for a year or two, then vanished. I think he used
to be a professor or somefing. Randolph, he said his name was, but I fink he made that up.
Anyways, he was a very clever man.
What he actually said was: ' shit 'appens' . I asked him what that meant, and he said
' what's past is past; it's what's made you who you are, but it doesn't decide what you will
be' . I didn't really understand it at first, but I think I do now. It's all about what you make
of the stuff that happens to you, see. You can never go back. Life may deal you a handful
of shit, you can't change that, but you can change how you let the shit affect you, and how
you turn it into what you want to become."
We sat on a bench and started to eat our food; bread, cheese and cake, and shared a
bottle of milk. Somehow, it seemed to taste better, knowing that it was not only free, but
also would have been wasted if we had not rescued it.
"I understand what you're saying, Joey, but my memories are so strong it's like re-living
things again and again and again. So the torment goes on every day - the people I've lost,
the mistakes I've made, the things people have done to me, they keep buzzing around my
head, reminding me. I keep thinking that, if I could go back and change one thing, it
would all turn out differently. It's hard to move on."
Ignoring the whining tone that had crept into my voice, Joey cut through to the heart of
the matter. "I fink you did love him. What was his name?"
I looked at him, amazed. "You are way older than your years, my dear friend." I
squeezed his hand. "Oliver, his name was Oliver."
"Well, Oliver gave you some good thoughts, didn't he? Those are what you 'ave to cling
to, Bell. Where is he now?"
"I don't know; that's part of the problem. He just vanished, the day before the floods. I
figured his parents must have moved on; they were looking for somewhere to live."
He shrugged. "That's it, then. So he's still around, somewhere. Probly finking about you
just like you're finking about 'im."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right."
"Bell, if the bad stuff is weighing you down, you've got to fink of the good fings, and
direction.
I sat on my suitcase and laughed quietly. It was a small victory, and I didn't even know
what it was that I had escaped from, but it felt good.
-♪-♫-♪
Joey was waiting for me at the end of the road when I emerged. "You gave them the
slip, well done," he chirped.
"I was worried about you," I said, "you didn't seem to be going very fast."
"Oh, I can do a turn of speed when I need to."
"You mean you were going slower on purpose?"
"Yeah, well ... you're still new to all this, I wanted to lead him away from you." He
grinned, cheekily. "Don't worry about me, they never catch me. I know this town better
than any of them."
We walked across the busy market place and down to the beach that I had once thought
of as my own. A picture of Oliver flashed into my mind, so vivid that it seemed to me it
must be visible to everyone around. Oliver smiling, talking, walking. I wondered where
he was, what had happened to him, why he had vanished.
"You ok, Bell?" Joey was studying my face.
I realised I had stopped walking and was staring along the beach. I looked down,
sheepishly. The memories of Oliver had transported me into the past and reminded me
how important he had been in my life for a short while.
"I'm fine, thanks. I used to come down here every day. There was someone I cared
about."
"A boy?"
I nodded, sadly. "It wasn't love, or anything like that; just friends. I wish I could go back
to those days, they were good."
Joey stopped walking, put his hands on my shoulders and fixed me with an analytical
gaze. He had to reach up, as he was six inches shorter than me, but his expression was
that of a man twice his age. "Life comes in two bits, Bell," he said gravely. "Yesterday ...
and all the rest."
He grinned. "Someone told me that, and it's stayed with me. He was a drop-out, a drunk
who lived on the streets here in Yarmouth for a year or two, then vanished. I think he used
to be a professor or somefing. Randolph, he said his name was, but I fink he made that up.
Anyways, he was a very clever man.
What he actually said was: ' shit 'appens' . I asked him what that meant, and he said
' what's past is past; it's what's made you who you are, but it doesn't decide what you will
be' . I didn't really understand it at first, but I think I do now. It's all about what you make
of the stuff that happens to you, see. You can never go back. Life may deal you a handful
of shit, you can't change that, but you can change how you let the shit affect you, and how
you turn it into what you want to become."
We sat on a bench and started to eat our food; bread, cheese and cake, and shared a
bottle of milk. Somehow, it seemed to taste better, knowing that it was not only free, but
also would have been wasted if we had not rescued it.
"I understand what you're saying, Joey, but my memories are so strong it's like re-living
things again and again and again. So the torment goes on every day - the people I've lost,
the mistakes I've made, the things people have done to me, they keep buzzing around my
head, reminding me. I keep thinking that, if I could go back and change one thing, it
would all turn out differently. It's hard to move on."
Ignoring the whining tone that had crept into my voice, Joey cut through to the heart of
the matter. "I fink you did love him. What was his name?"
I looked at him, amazed. "You are way older than your years, my dear friend." I
squeezed his hand. "Oliver, his name was Oliver."
"Well, Oliver gave you some good thoughts, didn't he? Those are what you 'ave to cling
to, Bell. Where is he now?"
"I don't know; that's part of the problem. He just vanished, the day before the floods. I
figured his parents must have moved on; they were looking for somewhere to live."
He shrugged. "That's it, then. So he's still around, somewhere. Probly finking about you
just like you're finking about 'im."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right."
"Bell, if the bad stuff is weighing you down, you've got to fink of the good fings, and
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