Nitty Griity

‘Yes I have one, I’m in a meeting and when the speaker is waffling on a load of shite
I pull out a sub-machine gun and let the fucker have it.’
‘Very good Brett, excellent, just the sort of thing we’re looking for.....anymore?’
Young Bradley pipes up, ‘Yes my one is, I’m in the post-office waiting to get my money and there’s a line of old ladies in front of me, I whip out a hunting knife, cut off all their heads, so I get to the front of the queue.’
‘Excellent Bradley, very good,’ Phillip says looking round the room, ‘Rose you’re very quiet, do you have one you’d like to share?’ I look across at Rose whose face is contorted and her left leg is twisted so far round her right leg that she resembles a cork-screw.
‘I don’t really get them. I don’t get angry.’ Rose replies. I do, I think, but I’m not about to start telling this lot. Phillip stops my train of thought as he continues,
‘What it basically means Rose is if something’s incongruent it’s where things don’t quite match up, i.e. if we were to use you as an example Rose, what you’re saying and what your body language is saying is in conflict.’
‘But I don’t have them, I don’t get angry.’
‘O.k. we’ll come back to that,’ Phillip looks at his watch, ‘besides it’s break time, grab yourselves a smoke and I’ll see you all back here in ten minutes.’
We all troop outside and congregate at the top of the stairs, some sitting some standing, all delving into pockets and passing round tobacco. I sit at the top of the stairs and Big Frank sits down beside me, his huge frame barely fitting on the small step, he hands me a packet of baccy and some papers. ‘Ow’s it goin? Your first group an’ that.’
‘It’s strange.’ I reply. Strange, it’s horrible and I just want to get through the next half an hour, I’ll just keep quiet.
Frank smiles, showing me gaps in his teeth, ‘Yea mate, ya right there mate.’ I finish rolling my cigarette and hand him back the baccy and papers. He nods towards Rose and Scottish Gary who have set themselves out of earshot of everyone else. ‘You watch out for them two mate.’
‘How do you mean?’
Frank hesitates, ‘oh I gotta stop being negative ‘bout people, just I think the pair of them are up to sumthink. Everyone else is pretty sound, Bradley and Brett- good lads, mad as, 'atters but good lads. Nicky’s alright an’all.’
Frank pauses taking a deep drag of his roll-up, ‘So ‘ow’d ya end up ‘ere then?’
‘Oh you know just the usual, drink and drugs,’ and I’m not about to divulge my life’s story to the first crazy addict that asks me.
‘Yes the usual, that’s bout right,’ he says grinning, ’ere you’ll like the second ‘alf.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Oh’ he says, as he stands pocketing his baccy, ‘It’s all about fear.’
We return to our seats, plastic chairs with metal handles on the side, I grip on tight and vow to keep quiet, we’re in a cold white room with dull house plants, and a poster of people surfing with a caption that says ‘you can if you believe you can.’
Once we’re frozen in our seats once more Phillip begins, ‘O.k. as we’ve got a new person with us this week,’ I feel their eyes piercing me, ‘who can explain to Stewart what happens in the second part of the group?’
‘Yes.’ Says Bradley; raising his arm, ‘I can.’
‘You don’t need to raise your arm Bradley, this isn’t school...but go on.’
‘Well it’s about fear and that.’
‘Yes it is, as Bradley very succinctly put it ‘about fear and that.’
‘Can anyone tell my why we focus on fear in the second part of the group?’ The room falls silent, blank expressions all round. ‘No- one? O.k. well there is a belief that the root cause -or the core if you like- of addictions is fear, so what we do here in these sessions is; we get you to return to the time in your life when these fears first manifested themselves; in order to change those negative messages, getting at the nitty- gritty, if you like. Rather like you did Frank in last week’s session, can you explain to Stewart what we did?’
‘S’pose, well I had to imagine me ol’ man was in the room.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well I was fifteen again and he was batterin’ me mum, and I had to tell him all the things I had wanted to say to ‘im at the time. It was proper scary but seemed to help.’
‘There’s no way I’m doing that,’ I think, ‘not in a million years.’
‘Yes what Frank has described is known as Gestalt therapy. It’s based on the premise that when something bad happens we bury it deep in our sub-conscious, the only trouble is because it’s buried within us we end up reliving it over and over again; in our thoughts and actions. The past seeping out into the present, if you will. Anyway that’s enough of the theory. Who would like to start us off?’ Phillip begins to grin, ‘silly question really.’
The room falls silent, where I’m scared to think in case people hear it. I barely breathe, as I keep my gaze to the floor, avoiding all eye contact, and taking in Frank’s undone lasses. The group stays like this, collectively holding its breath. ‘Come on, come on, I’ve read your significant event sheets; I know you’ve plenty to talk about.’
Oh God what did I put? I’m sure I didn’t put anything, my shirt begins to stick as I look for the comfort of my pockets, I keep my head down, but glance up at Rose sitting opposite who’s twisting and contorting as before. I move my gaze down to the floor and Rose’s sensible shoes. Say something, please someone, anyone, say something.
‘I must say you’re a very reticent group, plenty to say in your sheets, but when you come to group; nothing; I don’t have to remind you of the group contract do I?’
Nicky begins, ‘I wanted to talk about my kids, it was this time year they went into care, I mean we talk on the phone every day, but it’s not the same thing at all.’
‘Humph’ Rose sighs.
‘Rose is there anything you’d like to say to Nicky?
‘I relate to that.’
‘I thought you might Rose.’ Phillip gives Nicky a quizzical look. Nicky continues, ‘Well that’s all she ever says, I relate to that, I relate to that, she doesn’t contribute a thing.’
‘Yes I do.’
‘When Rose? When did you ever contribute to this group? It was mainly Frank and his dad last week, and Bradley and his step-dad the week before. I don’t remember you ever bringing anything to the group. You’re a taker Rose’
‘O.k. Nicky you’ve made you point.’
‘Well look at her she just sits there every week, I relate to this I relate to that, and then back at the centre she’s moaning about everyone.’
‘I do not moan about everyone.’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa’ says Phillip cutting it off just before it gets good, beats talking about fear anyway.
Nicky looks mad, Rose scowls, Gary glowers, while Bradley and Brett grin at one another, Frank bites down on his lip, and I wish I was invisible, ‘Nicky you need to remember that this is a supportive environment, and you need to let Rose respond. How did you feel Rose when Nicky said you were a taker?’ Rose looks close to tears.
‘Rose?’
‘I’ve always done everything for my kids.’
‘I never mentioned your kids,’ Nicky retorts.
‘Nicky,’ said Phillip sharply.
‘Well I didn’t.’ Nicky sits back in her chair, leaning back slightly and folding her arms, lines appear on her forehead.
‘I’ve always done my best for my kids, I tried I’ve really tried,’ Rose’s eyes close, ‘I just couldn’t protect them from that...from that...’
‘Come on Rose you’re in a safe place, let it come.’
Tiny memories break free in my mind; as Rose continues, ‘that...that bastard.’ she says, as she shrinks back into her seat, shaking and trembling.
‘I guess you’re referring to Barry, what did he do to you Rose?’
‘No I can’t.’
‘Its o.k. Rose we’ve all done it.’ Frank encourages.
‘Rose you have to trust the process, when was this?’
‘Last March; over a year ago now.’
‘O.k. well, talk us through it’
Rose takes a deep breath and wipes her face with her sleeve, ‘Well last year I was living in Dulwich, we had one of those old Victorian houses and my bedroom looked out onto the road, it was gone midnight and I was in bed, I wasn’t drinking so much then just the odd glass of sherry, it was nearly midnight and I was just about to put the night-light out when I heard a crash of broken glass. I went to the bedroom window and looked down to see Barry swaying from side to side. When he heard the window open he began shouting: nasty things, rude filthy things, horrible things.’ Rose fills up as the memory takes over, ‘such horrible, horrible things. He said I was a bad mother, he said Joanne hated me.’ Rose sinks into her chair as her body shakes and convulses, while my own memories are stronger, stronger and stronger.
No!
I take a deep breath and focus on Frank’s Reeboks, but I’m drowning, sinking.
I hear Rose’s words, but they’re just fragments, snippets, movements of the mouth, ‘I was seeing him...drunk... beat me...cheap... dirty...bad mother,’ and despite myself I drift back into the past and my own ‘nitty gritty.’