Henry lay on his bed staring towards the window. All that was visible through it was a brick wall and some shuttered windows. Not an inch of sky was visible and he knew that standing up and going to peer through it would only show a small strip of it. According to the clock it was a quarter past three in the afternoon. It had used to be his favourite time of day on a Saturday. Now it meant absolutely nothing.
He felt a pang of longing inside of himself. It was a longing for his youth and the old days. It wasn’t that he disliked having responsibility. That didn’t bother him. It was simply a pining for the days when he felt alive, when he had friends. These days, living in the city, he could not relate to anyone. His days and nights were spent alone. Even the things he used to enjoy doing were meaningless.
Sitting up and staring despondently at the wall he thought back to before he had come here. It was his graduation from technical school that had been the last main event. Having left school just before the final two years he had learned computers and specialized in networking. He had secured an excellent job and would most likely be set for life. His frugal living meant that he had quite an impressive pile of money put away.
But he did not know what he wanted to spend it on. His success was hollow and there was nothing he could do to make himself feel alive again. He had returned to his home town approximately five times – the last had been for the funeral of the grandmother he had lived with all his life. He simply had no time for anything else and each time he had been there was over as soon as possible. Even with bereavement leave the workload was such that he had to keep up with it.
And besides, there was something else that he could not bear to face. It was a terror that gripped his heart and had him awake in the night, sweating and sobbing with anguish and frustration.
His mobile phone rang and he automatically reached over and picked it up from the bedside table. He’d come to hate the sound it made, for what reason he didn’t know. It simply jangled on his nerves, and it was the only ring tone it had that didn’t sound completely stupid.
“Hello?”
“Henry, it’s Phillip. We’re going to need you to come in earlier for your shift tonight. And I was wondering if you’d be able to work tomorrow?” Phillip’s voice revealed to Henry that there was only one correct answer to this.
“Of course. What time do you need me to come in?”
*
That Sunday evening, Henry walked slowly out of the building. He’d stayed for more overtime – he simply could not bring himself to refuse Phillip when he asked. It was not unusual for him. He had an inner desire to please others, to not cause them any trouble. While it was not necessarily a bad thing, he knew that the extent to which he gave in to others was definitely not a good thing.
Maybe it was an attempt to make up for certain choices that he had made, actions that he had taken. All he knew was that since he started to live in the city, he had been this way.
He waited at the station, the evening cold already wrapping around him. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. The coat he wore was a surplus field jacket but this evening it did little to warm him as it usually did. He realized that he was cold on the inside, a coldness of the soul.
The train clattered through the city, the lights outside the windows whipping by unnoticed by Henry as he slumped in his seat staring vacantly forwards. There was an odd kind of weariness at the back of his mind that he could not place. It was almost like some black bug lurked within, a parasite sucking Henry’s energy into its bloated body.
Henry raised his eyes and looked to the side at the window. He could see himself in the reflection of the window, a tired man that looked older than he actually was. He had only recently “celebrated” his twenty-fifth birthday and he had the look of a man within his thirties. His light brown hair already had a few grey strands here and there. He had lines about his eyes and forehead. It was as if the years were also being devoured by that black parasite.
He went over in his mind again, trying to ascertain just what it was that made him feel this way. It was not that he didn’t enjoy his work – he did – and the volume of it, while tiring, was not the reason for his growing ennui.
He got home at nine. Having an early start in the morning he decided against dinner and simply ate a can of spaghetti while leaning on the counter of the kitchenette of his apartment. He rinsed out the can and fork slowly and then disposed of the can. He grunted as he dropped it in the bin and raised his hand to his face to inspect the small cut on his thumb from the sharp edge of the lid.
All of a sudden tears were in his eyes. His bleeding thumb and the kitchen beyond it blurred as they flowed freely down his cheeks. It wasn’t that it hurt. A wave of futility washed over him like a cold wave on an arctic sea. It took him several minutes to regain control of himself. He cleaned up the blood that had dripped upon the floor, then went and showered. After coming out he put a band-aid securely upon the cut, then put on his pyjamas and went to bed.
*
The next morning he awoke two minutes before his alarm. Henry sat up and grunted, blinking a few times before reaching over and turning it off before it shrieked its mind-numbing cry. Throwing off the blankets he went over to the dresser and pulled out some clothes – some slightly faded blue jeans, a light grey t-shirt and fresh socks.
Throwing these onto the bed he went out to switch on the kettle, then returned to dress as it boiled. It started to whistle as he came back out from his room, buckling up his belt. After fixing himself a cup of coffee he took a breakfast bar from the cupboard and chewed it slowly as he gazed towards the silent and black face of the TV.
Outside, the morning chill was bracing. He walked down the sidewalk towards the train station, laptop carry case over his shoulder. The station itself was a few blocks away from his apartment building and set lower than the road. Henry stepped onto the bridge that was suspended above the train tracks and station. A cargo train clattered past, blaring its horn insistently.
He paused at the ticket machine. He needed to buy another weekly. He’d meant to do it last night to avoid the lines, but as early as it was there wasn’t that many people – and he had time to wait. He patiently stood, arms crossed in order to keep himself a little warmer, but there was no holding off the chill within him.
With only a few people in front of him, he gazed at the myriad station names and their corresponding buttons. For some reason his eyes stopped on one. Bakertown – the last station before the train line separated into the one that had his home town on it. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it.
“Could you hurry up? I’ve got a train to catch.”
He realized it was his turn and he’d been staring at the ticket machine like a fool. He reached towards a button and with a sudden shock he realized it was Bakertown. Fear gripped his heart and shot down his arm to his hand. As he pushed the button he felt a strange feeling inside of him.
“For the love of… Get a move on!”
“S-sorry!”
Henry quickly put his money in and the machine spat out the ticket and change. Grasping both in his hand he quickly moved towards the platform where the Bakertown train would be departing from. It arrived just as he came down the ramp and he stepped towards it. The doors slid open and he swallowed, pausing. The fear was still in his heart and he could hear in his mind the words that had been said, and the events he had been a part of.
“This is the best thing to do. It’s easier for all of us this way.”
“Make up your mind sir.” said the guard pointedly.
Swallowing the fear, Henry got on board and took a seat. Glancing around, he noticed that a few people in the carriage were giving him sidelong glances. Flustered, Henry stared at the floor before realizing he still had the money and ticket clenched in his fist. He shoved it into his jacket pocket and took a deep breath, resting his hands on his laptop case.
One of his hands was shaking – he could feel it, see it. He gripped the corner of the laptop case tighter. A glance towards his watch reminded him that he would be running late in ten minutes. He was going to be very late today. And maybe he wouldn’t even be coming in at all. Maybe not even the next day.
The thought filled him with trepidation. Would he ever come back? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he didn’t want to – didn’t want to ever come back to this place. This was countered by that strangling fear within him that grew ever stronger every kilometre the train travelled.
At ten to seven, twenty minutes after his start time, Henry’s mobile phone rang. He answered on the second ring.
“Where are you, Henry? If you’re sick, you know you’re supposed to call in at least fifteen minutes before your shift. This isn’t like you at all.” There was no sympathy in Phillip’s voice.
“I-I’m sorry. I’m… Today isn’t a good day, I-“
“Isn’t a good day to work? It’s Monday, Henry. You were supposed to be here almost twenty-five minutes ago. There are three issues that have come up already, issues that should be either done with or almost resolved. I hear you’re on a train – I trust that you’re on the way here.”
Henry took a deep breath. The reason that there were already network issues was because the infrastructure – originally designed by Phillip – held several key flaws that had been constantly worked around. As the network had grown, the flaws had been swept under the rug. Henry had recommended a complete overhaul many times, but the recommendation had been knocked back as the network downtime would eat into productivity.
“I’m…” What should he say? What could he say? “I need to take an emergency leave of absence, Phillip. I’m… I can’t-“
“The only thing you ‘can’t’ do is try and pull that one, Henry.” Phillip’s voice had a warning tone in it now. “It goes against the policy that you signed. I’m not convinced at all. If you can be here within forty minutes then I might forget to put you down for deme-“
“Then just fire me, Phillip. I don’t care anymore.”
Henry hung up. Phillip tried calling again, but then Henry turned off his phone. The feelings inside of him were conflicting – a mixture of strange exaltation and sheer terror. Both of these mixed feelings grew the further the train went, the cityscape changing into suburbs.
The morning sun wreathed Bakertown station in its glow. A glance upwards at the clock over the ticket booths indicated it was almost a quarter past nine. It wasn’t very busy here, only one of the booths was manned.
“I’d like… A ticket.” He swallowed. “One way.”
The operator raised his eyebrows sleepily. “Yeah, where too?”
“Finch Hill.”
Just saying those two words made his stomach churn, the exaltation from earlier slowly dissipating and being replaced with foreboding. He swallowed and slid the money across to the operator. He could feel a drop of cold sweat run down his face and he remembered more of what had happened, what had been said. More of what he had done, of what he had been loathe to do – but there had been no other option.
“I don’t enjoy this at all. It’s what has to be done, and the quicker it’s over with, the better.”
Not to a logical mind, in any case.
“Are you alright, sir? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Henry started at the words, looking at the curious operator for a moment before taking the ticket without a word and heading down the stairs to the platform. Fifteen minutes later he was settling into his seat as the train pulled out to begin the long journey to Finch Hill.
The warm glow of the sun on his face did little to alleviate the fear within, but it did wash away a lot of the foreboding. Soon the suburbs gave way to countryside, passing through the occasional town of varying sizes. Finally, the terror was subsiding to a bearable level. Every time the doors swished open the scent of untainted air wafted into Henry’s nostrils, doing more to calm him.
By the time the train hit the outskirts of Finch Hill, it had subsided to a churning in his stomach. He drank in the sight of the town. The streets of the suburbs were lined with trees. The houses on them had been built a long time ago, the picturesque designs of those times still apparent. In the heart of town, the two apartment buildings towered over the other businesses and homes. The view from either of them was amazing, he knew.
The sweet scent of the honeysuckle that intertwined about the fence that enclosed the rails hit Henry in the face as he stepped off the train. Looking around he could see that very little had changed since he had last been here four years ago. Despite the churning within, Henry smiled to himself.
He felt alive.
He glanced at his watch as he trudged down the stairs onto the street. It was eleven-thirty, Monday morning. He wasn’t at work, didn’t know when he’d be going back and he wasn’t even sure if he had a job there anymore. The reality of that had yet to sink in – but either way it didn’t matter at the moment.
“Why am I here?” he asked out loud.
“Good question. Do you know the answer?” inquired a familiar voice from behind him.
Henry turned around slowly. Fear gripped his heart and all of the memories of that time came flooding back. There was no denying who it was, nor the inscrutable way in which those piercing dark eyes gazed at him.
“Taeko…”
Taeko Kuwasuru had been born in Finch Hill a few years after her parents had emigrated from Japan. She had been one of the people that Henry had grown up with – the one that he had felt closest to, the one that he had cared about more than the others. She was also the one that he had hurt the most.
“So you still remember my name?”
She wore a light floral summer dress and was holding her handbag in one well-manicured hand. Her hair was up in a bun and she’d put a few flowers in it. As far as Henry knew, she worked at the florists shop her parents operated. She had always loved flowers.
“I… You know that I’d never forget.”
Even as he said that he saw her pretty face twist in anger. She walked over to him and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Says the one who said it would be best if we both forgot about each other. You tore my heart out and threw it on the ground, and now here you again, to, what? Stomp it into a red paste?”
He had made her angry at times in the past. Her hot temper was evidentially inherited from her mother, as he could well remember hearing both of them going at each other. She could sometimes be very quick to anger, but Henry had never worried too much about her being angry. It was the time she cried when he knew that he had hurt her.
“No! Of course not, I…”
“I don’t have time to listen to this. I’m meeting a friend for lunch. But don’t think I’m letting you off. I expect you to be at the Honeysuckle Cafe at five o’clock sharp, then we’re going to talk.” She paused, swallowed. “And… If you aren’t there, I don’t want to ever see you again. Ever.” With that, Taeko quickly rushed past Henry. He thought that for one moment he had seen a tear in the corner of her eye.
His fear remained, yet with an undercurrent of longing.
*
An hour and a half later, Henry was wondering why he had ever left. Finch Hill was vibrant, alive. The streets were old yet clean, the taint of the city having not reached it – and perhaps it never would. It just seemed like that kind of place.
Here, the horizon held only sun-baked fields and forests. The people were polite. Life was a slower pace, and it was as if time moved slower as well. The air was full of the scents of the country even in the middle of the pedestrian-only street that ran through the middle of the urban heart of the town. Sitting outside a restaurant, Henry caught sight of Taeko and her friend who he recognized as Janet Birch. He quickly looked away and moved to walk behind one of the honeysuckle-laden bushes that dotted the area.
Turning a corner he walked through a short alleyway and into the industrial zone. There were still only the two processing plants here – one of them for meat products, the other was for confectionaries. Unlike the confectionary plants he remembered passing in the city, the sweet smell was more hunger-provoking than sickening.
At one-thirty he stopped at a small takeaway near the car mechanics and the car sale yard. As soon as he entered he was accosted by another piece of the past that he had been hoping against hope was still there. It was no random chance he had chosen this particular place.
“Well, well… If it isn’t Henry Fisher!” Still fat, grey-haired and friendly as ever, Dominic Carlo clapped his hands together and started work on a hamburger. “One burger with bacon and egg coming right up. So… What’s the occasion?”
Henry couldn’t help smiling as he leaned against the counter. “Oh… Nothing, really. Listen..” His smile faded. “Dom… Can you keep a secret?” He glanced around the room.
Dom nodded. “Of course. And the lunch rush is over, won’t have anyone coming in for a bit I don’t think. What’s on your mind?” He gave an encouraging smile.
Henry took a deep breath and told him everything that had happened. Dom listened, grunting and nodding in the right places. He finished putting together the burger and passed the plate to Henry.
“Sit down, wrap your mouth around that and listen.” Henry began to eat – the burger was the best he had eaten since he had first left Finch Hill. “It sounds to me like you are, or were, on the way to a breakdown. Nothing, my wrinkly butt. You needed to get back here, to your roots. And somehow, I think that Taeko has something to do with your state of mind.”
Henry swallowed his mouthful, gazing towards Dom. “What do you mean?”
Dom sighed. “Taeko never got over you leaving. Ben and John, well they coped better than her. The others, well, they were alright with it. But then, you four were real close. Like brothers and sister – closer even. It was special what you all had… And then you left.”
Henry stared down at his empty plate, swallowed.
“Henry, it’s not that Taeko doesn’t understand the reasons for you leaving. All she saw was that you decided those reasons were more important than the friendship that you all had. It didn’t help that you and her had that… Conversation at the end of it.”
“We should just… Not think about each other. We’ll find other people, maybe.”
“How could you even think something like that?!”
Henry groaned. “You know about that?”
“John told me. It was bothering him. Both he and Ben always assumed you and Taeko would get together. When you left, it shattered that image.” Dom quickly continued as Henry began to speak. “And don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s about growing up, maturing. Maybe you didn’t go the best way about it, but in shattering that bubble you gave both yourself and the others room to grow.”
“We can’t live in a bubble forever.”
“Don’t you even care about me or the others anymore? Friendship isn’t a bubble, Henry!”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“It shouldn’t, Henry. But at the same time you can’t let it conquer you.”
“Why would Taeko want to be with me now?” Henry asked, more himself than Dom – though Dom was happy to answer.
“Because she still cares about you that way. Always has, from the time when you four first started coming here every Saturday night. And listen to yourself – the fact you’re thinking about this means that you still care about her.”
“I… I do care about her. I just don’t know what I’m going to do to make up for what I did.” confessed Henry as he stared at small gob of sauce on the side of his plate.
“My advice – be at the Honeysuckle Cafe this evening. In the meantime, I suggest you see if you can find Ben and John. They’ll want to see you again.”
Henry contemplated this, then looked up at Dom. “What are they doing nowadays?”
“John’s working with his father’s business. He’s always been good with cars and he’d having the time of his life. Full fledged mechanic now. Ben, well…” Dom frowned. “He’s changed a lot. I won’t say any more than that.”
Henry nodded. “Well… How much for that burger, Dom?”
“On the house.”
“Thanks. I’m going to head down to the mechanics now. Hey…” Henry looked at Dom and tried to find the words. Dom just smiled and shook his head.
“Don’t worry about it. You ever need to talk, I’m here.”
Dom was a rock in a storm, reflected Henry as he stepped outside into the warm afternoon. He’d always seemed to know what everyone was thinking or feeling and it appeared the talent was as strong as ever. It occurred to Henry that he still had no idea how old Dom was, nor had he ever seemed to change. It was as if he was a force of nature – and that thought brought a slight smile to Henry’s face.
He found himself trudging down the road towards Maclin Mechanical. John had always hoped that he’d be good enough to work with his father – a hard but fair man. Everyone had just laughed at his worries, but that didn’t stop John from pushing himself in his chosen field. Henry could only guess at his proficiency now.
As he approached he could see that the business had expanded, the previously empty lot beside it now taken up by another large garage. The smash repairs joint across the road from it now also bore the Maclin name – so they’d finally bought out crabby old Gerry Phyllis!
“Holy hell, Henry!” John came walking out of the gate with a grin on his face. “Come down for a visit?” He had changed relatively little. He had the same short haircut, the same infectious grin and sandy blond hair. He wore dark blue work overalls that were dotted and splashed with oil stains and various discolourations, slightly faded from multiple washes.
Henry shook the proffered hand and smiled. “That’s kind of a loaded question. It’s good to see you again, John. I see business is booming for you.”
John nodded proudly. “Yeah, I’ve taken over from Dad. He spends most of the time working on the old ‘Chevy now.”
“That junker? He’s always been working on that.”
“Truth. Though with all the time he has, he’s made some good progress on it…” John chuckled and shook his head. “Anyway… What about you?”
Henry’s smile faded somewhat. “I wish I could tell you but I just don’t know, John.” He sighed. “I just… Didn’t go to work today. I came here instead and I don’t know… OK, I know, but…”
“Look… Don’t try and look too deeply into it right now. She’ll skin me alive for telling you perhaps, but I got a call from Taeko just after she spoke to you. I figured that you’d show up sooner or later – if not here then at Dad’s place. I’ve moved into Gerry’s old place.”
“Where’s Gerry now, then?”
John raised a brow. “Passed on. Had a minor stroke shortly before, that’s when he sold me the place. A few weeks later he passed away in his sleep.”
Henry was silent for a moment and then looked across the road. “You’ve really done well, John.”
He chuckled at that. “Ah, well… Thanks. I got motivation for it. Me and Rebecca Salter are engaged.” John couldn’t keep the note of pride out of his voice. Henry just boggled.
“Rebecca Salter? I thought she didn’t want to have anything to do with you after you beat up her boyfriend when he was threatening to give me a beating. I forget what for… No, wasn’t it because me and Ben wrote all that stupid crap about her under the bridge?” Henry grinned at the memory.
“Yeah, though to be fair most of it was correct. Anyway, she broke up with him ages ago and we hooked up just before your grandmother’s funeral. Would have told you about it then, but, you know. You were in and out before anyone could talk much to you.” Henry felt a pang of remorse at the words and sighed.
“Look, I’m so-“
“Don’t worry about it.” John interrupted. “You’re here now and you’re talking. Now… Look. You gotta meet up with Taeko soonish… So how about I lend you some clothes and let you shower? You’ll be staying at your grandmother’s old place right? You are staying for a bit, aren’t you?”
Henry looked from John to gaze around slowly, then up at the smog-free blue skies. He took a deep breath of fresh air and looked back to John. He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ll be staying for awhile.” Just saying that gave him a surge of pleasure, and Henry knew that it was the right thing to do.
John grinned. “Come on. Let’s see what I can rustle up.”
