The carpark sat there silently, beside the dark brick building. Inside the car, he merged with the faded vinyl seat. he wasn’t ready. Obedience is what was overpowering him. Guilt and obedience. Leaving the warmth of the car and many other secrets.
Knocking on the dull door, his acne scars is what he noticed first. Tony, in his 50’s. Walking in, he had expected to sit on a couch, to complete the cliche, but he was offered a seat in an old desk chair. Throughout the session, he would sub-consciously he fiddled with the height adjuster, that ignored him, broken.
“Your mum has mentioned you wanted to talk”
“Yeah, I need to”
“That’s great to hear. Really good. The first step is the hardest, and you have already done that”
“I just dont know what the next step is.”
“That is where I come in. I have dealt with this many times, for many years. You can be rest assured you are not alone”.
Tony had the notepad. And the writing that he could not read upside down. I didnt want him writing things. Things I didnt know.
“I have worked through many different struggles with people, mate. From child sex offenders to prostitutes. I spend most my week in the prison system, so much change and reward there.”
I dont think he asked Tony for his CV. But it felt good to know he wasn’t alone, perhaps.
“Martin, I am sure it is all very overwhelming. We dont need to talk about everything all at once. Let’s start in one little corner.” Tony’s voice was calm, but the calm a pool closed for the winter would be, way too cold. Way too still. And this corner he spoke of, was where a naughty kid should be sent.
He swallowed. Then breathed. This is where he had to jump in.
“Well, I just have got to a point where I never want to hurt. Hurt anyone else, most importantly. And God has led me to be honest outside, not just inside.”
Here is where the lies were about to start.
Walking back to the carpark, did he feel any better? Mum was already back at the car. She had a slight smile on. “Don’t worry mate, you are doing the right thing”.
“It was fine Mum. I know it feels right.”
“Good mate, good.”
The slight smell of cigarette smoke hung there. Mum had been doing it again.
The car began moving onward to home. The steep hill made no difference to the speed. Cruising silently, there was a lot that could be said but the words lay inside. Each bend in the darkness, wrapped around them, mother and son.
I could smell the rank odour of the cigarette smoke in my nostrils as I read it. Good story.
No problem. May your next post be as nostril tingling as the last.