13. My Twenty-Fourth

13

My Twenty-Fourth

                      

Life is a funny thing. On the surface, it’s straightforward. You look to the future, make plans, set goals and go about achieving them but in reality they never seem to pan out exactly as you planned. The tiniest thing can cause a ripple that changes the entire flow and no matter how hard you try to predict the future it’s impossible to do so with any degree of accuracy. I believe this is because, whilst you do have control over your own actions and decisions, there are many things that affect your life, which you cannot control. Loved ones, the people you care about, the company you work for, your bank, the economy, and the stranger that drives into your car. Any number of things can have a huge effect on your life and you’d be powerless to stop it or even have a say on it.

            Five years ago today, it was my nineteenth birthday and if you had asked me at the start of the day where I’d be now �" five years in the future. I’d have said something a little different to if you had asked me at the end of that day. All I had done between was cook a dinner but the news of Rachel’s departure and the onset of Amare’s news report �" both of which I had no control over, had bleakened my outlook sufficiently enough to change my view of the future, within a timeframe of a few hours.

           The next morning, having slept on it and having come up with a plan, my view of the future was again different. Within around twelve hours I’d of created three alternate universes for myself to live in five years time and no matter how well thought out they might have been. They were all wrong.

            It’s mid afternoon and I’m at work. Gone are the days of working at the convenience franchise, which seems like a million years ago to me now. I’d quit that job a few months after Paul’s murder. The psychosis I was suffering was made worse by that environment. Every time I put the newspapers out I’d see Izzy’s face, every time Steve came to speak to me I feared it would be about Paul and eventually I walked out when one day, to my complete horror. Every customer appeared to have Paul’s face, caved in with a hammer, brutal and grotesque. It was when one of the Pauls’ asked me if we sold cotton pads that I ran out of the shop a mere five minutes after starting my shift, Steve phoned me half an hour later and it doesn’t take a genius to work out what he told me.

           Since then, I’ve come a long way professionally. I now work as a doctor of psychology for the ‘Youth Offending Team’ �" or YOT, a job I secured after three years of studying and a lot of hard work. Those things alone though were not enough and it’s with a fair amount of help from Amare that I’ve ended up in this job. His contacts through the charity work he does came in very handy and I feel indebted to him to this day.

         The YOT is a cog in the youth justice system’s machine and my job is to work with and assess young offenders. I see them for an hour-long session each fortnight and after a court-ruled period of time am expected to make a recommendation on the best course of action for the individual. This is usually an action such as: period of probation, further counseling or �" in rare cases, that the individual be put in a secure facility for closer monitoring. The latter is only in cases where I feel the patient may be a danger to themselves or those around them. I can prescribe medication but hardly ever do this, if I feel that’s what the patient needs, I recommend that they get further psychiatric help. The kids I work with range from 10-19 and the cases vary massively, making the work interesting and dynamic.

           Just over five years ago, I killed a man and disposed of his body and when I did this I promised myself I would address the balance by becoming a better person and helping others in the process. I feel my role within the YOT does this and that I’m suited to the job having experienced both sides of a young person’s potential. When these kids sit in front of me, I can see myself in them. A potential to achieve things both good and horrific and my aim is to send them down the better of the two paths.

            I’ve just finished a particularly awkward session and I find myself in the bathroom, just down the corridor from my office. As I wash my hands, I examine my face in the mirror. The past five years have seen me age considerably, my exterior beginning to show the older state of my interior. My face has filled out a little and my eyes have a permanent state of tiredness. Eternal bags hang from them like pouches that store all the horrible things that the eyes can’t forget. Any boyish good looks I once had are gone and have been replaced by a cynical, paranoid man that looks closer to thirty than twenty. I tilt my head to the left and scrutinize the scar on the right side of my forehead, prodding at it with my fingertips. It’s a long thin line that runs from my crown to just above, and to the side of my right eye. It’s a scar I’ve had for two years now and has healed well, considering. The scar is a part of a chain of memories; the mark itself reminds me how I got it. How I got it reminds me how delicate the human mind is.

            I sigh and from my pocket, I produce a small, unmarked clear bag containing little white pills. I remove two from the bag and put them in my mouth. Cupping water from the sink I drink and swallow, returning my eyes to the mirror. I sigh again, pocket the pills, dry my hands and exit the bathroom.

             “Hey son, I’ve been looking for you.” I hear a familiar voice as I enter the corridor; I turn around and see Amare, his bright beaming face staring at me. He’s always happy to see me, happy to see anyone. “Happy birthday, brother.” He strides towards me and grabs me in a tight embrace. “Hey Amare, thanks.” I wheeze, his bear hug grip squeezing the air from me. We walk towards my office together and he updates me on his day.

              The YOT is a big place, I worked as a salaried employee but many of the departments were run through the help of volunteers. Amare headed up a lot of these sectors. He produces and runs seminars and workshops aimed at giving young offenders skills and helping them become a useful part of society. As a result he was in the building a lot and regularly dropped into my office for a chat. We’d become excellent friends over the years and despite his flaws, I trusted Amare as much as anyone. His integrity and willingness and desire to help anyone and everyone are qualities you rarely find in a person.

              My office is fairly basic; it has one window directly opposite my desk �" which is situated on one side. Placed in the middle is a brown, leather armchair facing my desk. My desk-seat was higher than it, not as a form of posturing but so that when a patient is sat in the middle armchair, I can see their entire body. A large amount of body language happens below the waist and it’s important for my work that I can read the patient accurately. Amare sits in the brown leather chair opposite me, “The boss-man asked me to give you the file on your desk there.” He says, “I couldn’t find you before.” “Thanks” I reply, picking up the folder. On the front is the name ‘Mark Barton’ and some details. It’s the standard folder I receive whenever I’m given a new patient; I toss it to one side and open my laptop �" which is permanently on my desk. “So what’s new Amare?” I say whilst opening a ‘New Patient’ form on the company intranet.

               He shifts his feet. As a rule I try never to analyze my friends or loved ones, but it’s always hard when in my office. Amare is sat in a place where patients sit, I find it difficult to detach from work when in the work environment. It’s clear from his body language and voice intonation that something’s bothering him but he simply smiles and says, “Same old, you know.”

              I’ve seen a lot of things in this office; a lot of troubled young people have sat in that chair. I’ve had young people shout abusive things at me, break down with emotion and even hurt themselves, right in front of me. I’d been deceived, completely fooled by a fourteen year old and had more cries for help than I can care to count or remember. As a result, I’ve become accustomed to spotting the traits of a troubled mind. Whilst we are all unique snowflakes, I’ve found that our troubles manifest in similar ways and it’s a rare sight but something is clearly troubling Amare. “Are you ok man?” I ask attempting to make it sound as friendly as possible and not like the analytical interrogation it was at risk of becoming. He smiles again, a big bright smile and says, “Yeah, of course son.” In his thick, untainted African way. “Look I better get going, I only popped over to wish you a happy birthday.”  

             He stands up “What are your plans tonight?” he asks as he slowly makes his way to my office door. “Nothing much.” I reply, half of me conversing, the other half filling in my new patients details on the laptop. “Nothing much?” He asks in a sad tone “on your birthday?” I stop typing and look at him, “Well, I’ll just be spending it with the family” I smile before getting back to my work. Amare smiles back “Of course, send them my best” he says “well brother, have a good weekend and I’ll see you on Sunday.” He opens the door. “See you then” I reply in autopilot, he leaves and as the door closes I hear a “God bless you son.” Amare’s signature sign off.

              I don’t have any sessions for the rest of the day �" around an hour, so once I’ve finished filling out the ‘New Patient’ form online for Mark Barton, I decide to get a head start on the case by reading his file. Most of these files are the same, kid gets dragged up, trouble with parents, grow up in a rough area, that kind of thing. Eventually the young person gets involved with petty crime, things like theft, drug related crimes etc. This evolves and gets worse, until the kid ends up in prison. In my work you hear the same stories over and over again. Occasionally though, you get a case a little more unique. I’d had cases that were fairly interesting in the past but Mark Barton’s file is the most compelling read I’d ever had.

                 His story is brimming with abnormalities, the first being his address. This kid is from the rich part of town, anyone brought up in the area never wants for anything. His parents �"both still together, must be high standing society members, certainly not the sort of broken family my usual patients hail from. He’s an intelligent young man too, privately educated and at the age of just fourteen had already succeeded in gaining fifteen GCSE’s and had began to study for higher education. His file states that on his fifteenth birthday he dowsed his entire house �" all eleven bedrooms over three floors, with pure alcohol and put a match to it.

                 Mark Barton’s story is a strange one but the stand out piece of strangeness is at the conclusion of his file. After setting the house on fire, Mark remained inside the building. However having since been tested and analyzed by three different psychology experts he was found to be both sane and as the report reads; ‘to have no suicidal inclination or tendencies.’ Fortunately nobody was in the house and Mark was rescued by firefighters before suffering any serious long-term damage. As a result he’s served his time in a juvenile facility and now at the age of eighteen is to be put in front of me for assessment.

               I read the file cover to cover and place it on my desk; a sense of intrigue fills me. I’m rather excited to meet young Mr. Barton, an interesting case to get my teeth into. My job is to find out what drove this young man and most importantly to find out if it still drives him. I smile to myself, this kid is one that clearly needs a lot of help and I’m the one that gets to help him. I see my job as a privilege and an honour.

                   I get so absorbed in Mark’s file that time gets away from me and when I look at my watch I’m half an hour late for finishing work. I shut the laptop and place the folder into my desk drawer. Putting my coat on and locking my office, I make my way out of the building. It’s Friday and leaving on a Friday is always a slow process. Out of a fear of being rude, I habitually dip my head into every remaining workers office, to wish them “a great weekend.” By the time I get to my car, I’m forty-five minutes later than usual. I start the engine and before I set off, fish my phone out of my pocket. I better phone home I think to myself. They’ll be wondering where I am. The phone connects to the car speakers enabling me to drive and chat. “Hello” the ringing is interrupted by a voice coming through the speakers.” I smile and with a joking tone say, “Hi honey, how’s my favorite wife?”

 

Reviews

[AprilRN1210]

This chapter seems a little "off" to me from the flow of the piece so far. I am not sure the reason for this. I know there are a few grammatical errors in there that tripped me up, yes I am a nerd... It felt like a concentrated block of details to me that didn't quite evolve into a puzzle piece, or make me feel transported back into the story. Maybe it will be different once I read the next chapter and I can see the connections. or at least be able to give you a better idea as to what I feel is missing.


1. "Five years ago today, it was my nineteenth birthday and if you had asked me at the start of the day where I’d be now " five years in the future. I’d have said something a little different to if you had asked me at the end of that day." (besides the phantom apostrophe before the word five, you repeat the same idea "five years ago today" and "five years in the future".. it is also an incomplete sentence in the beginning (again my opinion) I would probably word it something like.... If you had asked me at the start of my nineteenth birthday where I would be now, five years into the future, I would have said something a little different than if you had asked me at the end of that day.


2. "Within around twelve hours I’d of created three alternate universes for myself to live in five years time and no matter how well thought out they might have been. They were all wrong." (not sure the most proper way to fix this since I am not an English major, but having it broken into two complete thoughts feels wrong. I think I would just put a semicolon between the two and not capitalize "they" not sure if you could just put a comma there or a - (dash)... but would connect the two thoughts)...


3." Every time I put the newspapers out I’d see Izzy’s face, every time Steve came to speak to me I feared it would be about Paul and eventually I walked out when one day, to my complete horror. Every customer appeared to have Paul’s face, caved in with a hammer, brutal and grotesque." ( doesn't sound right this way.. maybe something like: Every newspaper seemed to have Izzy's face splashed across it; every time Steve came to speak to me, I feared it would be about Paul; every customer appeared to have Paul's face caved in with a hammer, brutal and grotesque. Eventually, to my complete horror, I just walked out.)


4. "It was when one of the Pauls’ asked me if we sold cotton pads that I ran out of the shop a mere five minutes after starting my shift, Steve phoned me half an hour later and it doesn’t take a genius to work out what he told me." (think you meant to put Paul's friends).... here I WOULD separate the two thoughts with a period and add a comma after the word shop.... It was when one of Paul's friends asked me if we sold cotton pads that I ran out of the shop, a mere five minutes after starting my shift. Steve phone me half and hour later and it doesn't take a genius to work out what he told me.


5. "I see them for an hour-long session each fortnight and after a court-ruled period of time am expected to make a recommendation on the best course of action for the individual. This is usually an action such as: period of probation, further counseling or " in rare cases, that the individual be put in a secure facility for closer monitoring.".....( yes another phantom apostrophe after the word "or", but also doesn't flow right... I would put something like... I see them for an hour-long session each fortnight, and after a court-ruled period of time am expected to make a recommendation of the best course of action such as: a period of probation, further counseling or, in rare cases, the individual is put in a secure facility for closer monitoring.)


Don't shoot me, I am just trying to help.. There are a few more of those phantom marks in there as well. (ok, I am going to run and hide before you throw a pencil, shoe, or something at me)

[AprilRN1210]

oh my goodness, that is the longest review I have ever given... eek! That looks ridiculous, I am sorry... :(