True Grit
By Andy Morris
Copyright 2014 Andy Morris
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ISBN 9781311382009
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True Grit
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True Grit
Drifting between a shallow alcohol-induced sleep and near wakefulness Connor True thought he heard a telephone ringing somewhere in the distance. The muffled electronic tune was just touching the edge of his groggy mind and it took a few moments to realise that it maybe his phone. He didn’t know how long it had been ringing but he might have been half-listening to it for some time. Who the hell would be phoning him in the middle of the night?
Connor’s head felt like lead and for one disorientating moment he couldn’t remember where he was. The heavy fog of a burgeoning hangover swirled around his mind and his body; drying his mouth and pounding his head. Connor slowly came to with a groan, forcing open his bleary eyelids. He immediately shut them again as the bright sunlight stung his eyes. This sickly sensation was becoming steadily more frequent for the young games designer and it was starting to worry him that he was becoming more and more acquainted with booze.
The whole room turned with him as he rolled onto his side and a dizzy wave of nausea sloshed through him. Slowly the disorientation faded and Connor saw that he was still fully clothed and lying on top of his bed. As the veil of amnesia gradually thinned fragmented images from the previous day rotated in colourful patterns before his eyes and in kaleidoscopic arrangements he recalled the misery that had prompted the latest binge.
He had spent the day at home listening to his collection of classic Trane records. He still wasn’t ready to return to work. Since the assault and his horrific encounters with the Afterlife, something had broken within him. Where before his fun and carefree attitude reigned supreme now a creeping fear stalked him like a heavy black shadow slowing spreading out all around him and gradually dissolving his brittle world like a mental cancer that ate away at his resolve a little more every day. He hadn’t really noticed it at first but as the days had gone by he found himself becoming startled by the slightest thing: Crowds made him nervous; raised voices panicked him; and sometimes some unseen threat would start his heart racing for no apparent reason. Sweat would run down his face accompanied by a tightening in his chest. Clawing fingers of claustrophobia wrapped themselves around him squeezing the air from his lungs, suffocating him with another panic attack.
He had been about to go into work to see everyone yesterday afternoon when he succumbed to another attack but fortunately he hadn’t gone far down the road before he felt the overpowering urge to run back to his house, his sanctuary.
In the background the telephone continuing to ring with annoying persistence and he remembered why he had woken up so early. He should really answer it; it could be important. The damn thing must be lying somewhere nearby he thought as his shaky hand reached out and groped blindly around on the table next to his bed. Something fell over and he heard a chink of glass and the glugging of some liquid spilling out onto his carpet. He swore but without any real feeling and continued to clumsily explore the table. The phone was wet but he shook it and wiped it on his duvet before fumbling with exaggerated care for the answer button. It took a few moments for the words to come from his dehydrated mouth but he eventually managed a throaty “hello?”
It was Alicia.
Connor tried to sit up but the incredible weight of his still-spinning head made that impossible. He ran a hand over his eyes to try and wipe the sleep from them so he could speak to his sister more clearly.
“Connor? Where are you?” she asked unnecessarily loudly for this time in the morning.
“What?” he managed. “I’m at home. What’s going on?” he croaked.
“I thought we were meeting this morning?” she asked and as his mind caught up Connor noticed she sounded a little more impatient than usual.
“We are” Connor vaguely recalled agreeing to meet her at the radio station. “Not all of us get up at the crack of dawn like you do. I was going to get up in a bit and meet you when you finished your breakfast show” Connor said. He observed his head was now pounding in time with his heart rate, which was curious.
“You were” his sister retorted impatiently, bringing Connor’s attention back to her.
“The show finished two hours ago” she continued. “Were you drinking again last night?”
Connor groaned inwardly. There was no point lying, especially to Alicia who could read him like a book.
“Yeah, I had a couple” he admitted, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. He didn’t need this. “You’ve finished work already? What time is it now then?”
“It’s 11:30. You need to get moving pretty quickly if you’re going to make that competition of yours”. Connor closed his eyes and pieced together what day it was, where he needed to be and what was going to happen. His dance crew, Maximum Impact, were performing this afternoon in the regional finals of the national dance competition in town.
His talented crew of street dancers filled Connor with so much pride, even in his current state. They were all tight with each other and had visited him in hospital most days while he was in his coma. They had started preparing for the competition shortly before he was attacked and had continued to develop the routine in his absence. The final sequence of the performance was dedicated to him and when he had found out he had felt quite tearful by their act of compassion. That made it hurt even more that he had missed so many of their practices lately.
“It’s today?” he echoed to himself not really listening to Alicia as she continued to squawk away in the background. He considered the task of getting out of bed; he couldn’t miss the performance no matter how daunting it would be venturing that far from home. He had to be there no matter what but at this moment the sheer scale of the task was intimidating. The threat of panic reared up before him like an insurmountable cliff, brooding ominously before him and casting a threatening forecast to the unwary traveller. What if he couldn’t go? He was in danger of turning into a loser but n order to ascend to the summit he would have to drag himself upwards to meet the challenge.
Alicia was going on about Laura and sound of her name brought Connor’s attention back again. She was asking if Laura was coming to the competition today.
“Yes, she’s coming” Connor confirmed, already detecting the less-than-subtle disapproval in Alicia’s voice. Alicia was quiet for a moment and Connor could imagine the cogs turning as she tried to find a tactful response.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” his sister asked carefully. “I mean if she was the one with you when you saw Abiku come for you in the future, surely you should keep away from her. If she isn’t with you it may not happen”.
He couldn’t deny her logic. Connor had told Alicia about his premonition of the demon but he hadn’t shared his recent experiences of the Afterlife with her. He usually shared everything with Alicia but after witnessing the demon devouring Grandmother Nnedinma’s soul right in front of him; he couldn’t bring himself to burden his sister with the full extent of his anguish. He quickly screwed his eyes shut to block out the mental images as the memories threatened him again. It w
as unfair to pass this horror onto her as well. She knew the terrible lie about the Afterlife. Just knowing that was bad enough and he didn’t want to add to her nightmares with a first-hand account of expect when she did eventually pass over. He had no choice but to carry it by himself.
Connor sighed wearily. He felt like shit and he didn’t need this conversation again. Not now.
“Abiku will come no matter what” Connor said resignedly. “Whatever I do the demon will find me eventually”.
“Perhaps” Alicia said. “But look, I’ve got nothing against Laura, she seems like a nice person but I don’t think you should be tempting fate like this. I don’t think you should be seeing her. Besides, you’re not in a good place for a relationship and I don’t like seeing you screw everything up. Laura will see this as well and then she’ll be gone, and you’ll be hurting all over again”.
He didn’t want to mess things up with Laura. She was a great person; she was bright, bubbly and passionate about life; especially her motorbike and her boarder-line obsession with all things Disney. Laura had a bright optimistic outlook on life and she nurtured a natural empathy with those around her. He couldn’t wait to see her again. She didn’t know about his psychic doorway or his panic attacks.
Alicia was right though; he did need to deal with his problem and tackle his fears. He had to sort out these panic attacks and cut back on his drinking otherwise Laura would be gone. At some point, he would need to sort himself out, sooner or later.
“Don’t worry” Connor held the phone away from his ear as Alicia bleated on. Being the eldest she made it her duty to be overly protective towards all her younger siblings.
Clutching the phone, he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and immediately felt the room spin that much quicker. Dropping his head in his hands he sat there for a moment as Alicia continued to preach her wisdom while his nausea threatened to rise again.
“Things are fine with Laura” he said after realising Alicia had stopped talking. “We’ve only been out once, if you don’t include our first meeting”.
“I’m not talking about your relationship now” she did nothing to hide the annoyance in her voice.
“I’m talking about how you’re coping. You were late to that meal with Laura the other day and didn’t you say you nearly got into an argument with someone at the bar?” Connor nodded to himself and was glad Alicia couldn’t see the embarrassment still burning in his cheeks. It was so unlike him and he was so grateful Laura hadn’t witnessed it either.
“… and you didn’t show up to youth club the other day” Alicia continued. “They phoned Mum to see if you were at home because Jackie was expecting you to bring in those art materials. You’ve never missed a session at the club since you started. I’m going to be honest, Connor, you’re spiralling downwards. Mum has noticed it as well and she’s worried. We’re all worried for you”.
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry” Connor tried to reassure her lamely, trying to ignore her comment about Mum as it lodged in his stomach like a knife, twisting into his gut with a ringing guilt that he could not ignore. He didn’t want to upset Mum and had kept all of this from her; from his premonition of the demon to the reason he was attacked by Dale Tanner. He could never do anything to hurt those close to him and Alicia should know that but she didn’t let up “OK. Well, its eleven thirty now and you need to be at the leisure centre for twelve thirty and do whatever it is you do before a show. Your dancers are nervous as it is - according to Mya - and as they’ve come this far. They don’t need you letting them down, bearing in mind they did it all for you in the first place”.
That was unfair but he bit back a retort, knowing he would regret it. Another wave of shame quickly swelled within him. That was a familiar sensation now as well But to let things get to the stage where his crew were even considering the possibility of that he may abandon them was mortifying and after another moment of painful self-pity he said quietly “I’d never let them down”. The words carried a sudden sadness that seemed to spring from nowhere and Connor felt as if he were just two feet tall.
He would apologise to them all after the show. He couldn’t go on like this. His burgeoning agoraphobia was causing his drinking, which was in turn affecting those around him and he had to get to grips with it before he ended up hurting anyone. The solution appeared in a flash, like the devil eager to sign a contract over a hastily agreed deal. He knew once he started down this road there would be no going back. Things would change but what choice did he have? With his mind made up and only half acknowledging a hastily made up plan, which was actually more of an idea than an actual plan he said “I’ll be there but I may be a couple of minutes late”.
He needed to fix things, and if he was going to do it then it had to be today, while he was motivated. It had to be now because if he actually stopped and thought about it the anxiety would come crashing down on top of him and he would never do it.
“What?” Alicia demanded incredulously. “What is so important anyway? Is it to do with Laura?” she asked, now clearly provoking an argument that Connor couldn’t afford to get drawn into.
“No. It’s nothing to do with Laura. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later Alicia” his patience was wearing thin and he had to stay focused or he would lose his courage.
“I think you’re making a mistake Connor. I can’t tell you what to do or what not to do but I think you need to look at your priorities. Get some help and sort yourself out”.
“I don’t need sorting out” Connor said and immediately winced inwardly because it was exactly what he needed. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Ok whatever” Alicia abruptly ended the call.
Seeing red Connor instantly snatched up an empty glass from his floor and threw it against the far wall where it shattered with a satisfying smash. That felt good. He reached for the bottle of whiskey but the red mist cleared before he threw that as well and he let it drop to his bed through numb fingers. When he was feeling calmer he knew he would see that Alicia was only looking out for him but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Not yet anyway, because right now he needed his anger.
He showered and drank coffee and orange juice until his head clearer and his body regained some of its usual grace. His movements felt robotic but at least he was functioning. He hardly noticed what he was doing until he found himself climbing into his yellow jeep and setting off for the Greenway Estate - to end his fears and recent panic attacks. It was time he sorted himself out.
The shabby red-brick houses of the Greenway Estate had an old neglected feel about them. Some stood abandoned and forgotten with wooden boards covering the windows of some homes like giant plasters. Other homes had the skeletal remains of disassembled cars littering the driveways and gardens. A dog was barking from within one of the houses. It sounded large and unpleasant as it barked continuously warning the world to stay away from his territory.
Connor found himself parking his jeep and creeping down the notorious Nightingale Crescent with a rising trepidation that he had to ignore lest he would feed it. This was starting to look like a stupid waste of time and a part of him was already questioning whether he should just go back home before he got himself into even more trouble. He could have a quick glass of wine in the kitchen to see him through before heading out to the leisure centre to wish his crew good luck. It wouldn’t take long and he wouldn’t be letting any of them down either, whereas if he stayed here much longer he may never make it to the competition.
He wiped his sweaty palms down is jeans, as Alicia’s voice joined the chorus of discordant views echoing through his head, warning him that whatever he did it would end in catastrophe. It had all made perfect sense at home but now it looked as if his self-destructive impulses were taking him straight to the end game. He shouldn’t be here. He should stop and turn back. But then he saw that he had already arrived at Dale Tanner’s house. His chest injected a dose of adrenaline into his system, causing his
legs to seize up so he could not return to the safety of his jeep.
Tanner’s old blue BMW was parked on the driveway. The car seemed to gloat at Connor through its headlights, mildly amused that he had come here willingly after their previous encounter at the youth club. Connor looked at the house, the grubby net curtains in all the windows reminded Connor of giant cobwebs heavy with dirt and grime. He was about to enter the parlour.
From behind one of the window’s the sound of raised voices suddenly erupted. A shrill whiney female voice first which was quickly interrupted by Tanner’s unmistakably deeper harsher voice bellowing out and making Connor jump as if he had touched a live electric current. It broke the freezing spell that had rooted him to the spot but to his alarm instead of retreating to his jeep he found himself moving up the driveway as his nerves began escalating towards panic. Connor watched himself in a dream-like trance float past Tanners car and the tangled hedge towards the paint-chipped front door.
Connor couldn’t hear if the doorbell had worked over the deafening sound of the blood thumping in his ear drums. Panic pressed in around him, but he knew if he paused to acknowledge it it would overwhelm him in an instant. He would lose his nerve and crumble here on the doorstep. His stomach fluttered and his legs were like jelly as a dozen thoughts flashed through his mind, too quick to see. He felt as if he were riding the Waltzer at the fairground and it was out of control; spinning faster and faster as his panic threatened to drown him in a swamp of despair that was bubbling all around.
This is it Connor, he told himself. Pull this off and you’ll be on fire again, man. Let’s do it!
This had to be done.
Connor pictured his psychic doorway and everything slowed down. He had to focus, he told himself sternly. He couldn’t let his dance crew down and that meant getting this done properly. It wasn’t right that he was causing so much worry for Mum or the rest of the family. He needed to get this thing under control for them and also for himself and possibly Laura as well.
Light from the other world illuminated his mind with its eerie glow as the door hung in the darkness of his subconscious. Connor concentrated on the future as he pushed open the door. Connor knew the future guarded its secrets well, allowing usually only a glimpse of what was to come. The further one looked into the future, the murkier and more unreliable the images became. Connor didn’t need to look far into the future, just a few seconds was all he was after.
His fear