Sean Happens 12

Dad staggered into the kitchen like his legs were encased in iron struts. He held out a primitive crossbow. A kind of spike in the narrow crosspiece.

Sean thought he was drunk. He squinted at them, his eyes glazed. Flickering from one to another and settling on his son.

He’d the saddest eyes his son had ever seen.

It was difficult to make out what Dad was mumbling.

‘Sorry son.’ He parted the torn shirt he’d been wearing and pointed the crossbow at his chest.

‘Don’t do it,’ squealed Mum.

Mr Martin gripped her wrist and stopped her from rushing over. He stood his ground, even when Dad pointed the crossbow at him.

‘Yeh cannae outfox the auld fox,’ said Dad. ‘Outfox yer auld devil. No noo. No anywhere. No anyhoo. And yeh cannae face yersel.  Yer deid because yer deeds ur yer undoings. Neither can yeh run. A ghost aw yersel. Gub open in a permanent scream. Ghost aw yersel. Breathing withoot breathing. Sobbing withoot tears. Destroyed by someone yeh once knew.’

The crossbow wavered and shook with the pained emotion playing out on Da’s face. ‘To remember isnae tae recover. Ravenous for forgiveness, but chained tae disbelief, despair and doubt.’

‘It’s the Mole,’ said Miss Dill. ‘He’s crawled inside him.’ She got up slowly, showing her hands as if she was the one putting down her weapon. ‘I can help you.’ She included Mr Martin in her fixed smile. ‘We can help you.’

Dad pointed the crossbow at her. ‘Nah, yeh cannae. I know noo. I thought I was alive and hud choices… My life was busy, busy, busy. Yet always so fucking grey.’ He licked his lips and the crossbow dropped down his side as if too heavy to carry. ‘Time slipped away tae fuck… I couldnae feel anything much. Nae surprise tae see the grave entering me.’

‘Sssh,’ whispered Miss Dill, her cadence rising and falling like a hypnotist. ‘That’s the Mole talking. Not you. The Mole… Listen to my voice.’

‘Aw, shut-the-fuck-up woman,’ he said. ‘I’ve hud enough aw yeh. Enough aw yeh all.’

Sean recognised his Da’s voice struggling up through the weariness that made him seem smaller, but then it was gone.

‘Yeh cannae hide fae yersel,’ said his Da. ‘It aw laid oot for yeh. The inevitability aw death. How could it no be? Yer past, present and future in a spin. Death. Death. Death let in.’ He pointed the crossbow at his chest.

‘For God sake,’ cried Mum. ‘Don’t be so stupid. Think aw the boy. Think aw me and whit um ah gonnae dae withoot yeh?’

It jolted Dad and his eyes cleared. ‘Rooting and rotten from the inside is nae life. I don’t want tae infect yeh with this madness. This common-sense misery. Stronger and stronger it gets. And there’s nae joy but in fucking despair.’

He shook his head. ‘Free will. God’s great joke.’

Da shot himself in the heart with his homemade crossbow. For a moment, he seemed as surprised as us. Spouting blood, he went down slowly, quivering like a fish let off the line…Still trying to smile at his son.

Mum’s cigarette dropped from her lips to the floor. She put a hand against her throat and shrieked something with no words. Her hands and arms legs were blood smattered as she held his head and rocked him back and forth. His crooked covered a crooked tooth. He licked his lips to speak through the gurgling noise in his throat. She turned her head and he whispered in her ear.

‘I love you tae,’ she said.

‘He’s gone,’ said Miss Dill. Her chin dropped onto her chest and she closed her eyes as if in prayer. ‘His soul has risen up into the light…Nothing can hurt him now or evermore.’

Miss Dill turned to Mr Martin for confirmation. ‘Did you see it?’

He stood and nodded like a don. His lips pressed together and his hand knitted together as in prayer. When he spoke, it was to do with more practical matters. ‘We’ll need to call an ambulance, even though,’ he sighed, ‘there’s little point—as there’s nothing they can do—but that’s the protocol. They’ll come and pronounce him dead. And with them, they’ll bring lots of policemen into your life.’

Sean slipped in the gore of his Dad’s blood. He fell against his mum, who held him with one arm, making cooing noises as she held her dead husband with the other.  

Mum tried to explain. ‘Really, he wasae a violent man. He was a good man and a great dad.’ Then she remembered and misrembered things that had happened and got mixed up. ‘It cannae be true… He was a martyr…’ 

Miss Dill curtsied into her dress as she circled and dropped to her haunches, holding Mum’s hand like it was a little bird liable to escape. She also stroked Sean’s arm. ‘When the police come, I wouldn’t bother mentioning the Spider or the Mole. It’ll just confuse their little minds. Just tell them you were having a cup of tea with your neighbours.’

‘Keep it simple,’ Mr Martin said. ‘You got that Sean?’

Mum got agitated and stood up, wiping her feet and hands on her blouse. ‘They willnae question him? Will they? He’s far too young?’ She stared at Miss Dill and when she didn’t answer immediately glared at Mr Martin.

‘They will,’ said Mr Martin. ‘But they’ll do it in a nice way. Make sure there’s a social worker present. They’ll question us all separately to make sure our stories tally.’

‘For God sake,’ Mum snorted. ‘It was an accident. Wan aw they freak accidents. It wisnae even a real crossbow. He was jist mucking about.’

‘The police might not see it that way,’ said Mr Martin.

Miss Dill was quick to interject. ‘Not that it couldn’t have been an accident.’ She helped Sean to his feet. ‘Let’s get you in a hot bath?’

‘You can’t do that,’ said Mr Martin. ‘The police will want everything to be the way it was.’

‘Fiddlesticks’ replied Miss Dill. ‘If everything was always the way it was, nothing would ever change and this wouldn’t have happened. Haven’t you learned anything?’

Mr Martin shrugged. ‘Apparently not.’