Negativity
By annecdaniel
- 667 reads
'Negative? Me? Who are you calling negative? Don't you know I just
can't DO anything? I'm not negative, just useless. Don't give me that
crap about being able to do anything if I just try. Fucking rubbish.
And I'm just not going to try anymore. No, no, no, NO, and don't give
me that negative crap.'
Joe hastily went out of the kitchen, pulling the door sharply behind
him. Only just in time. The first plate smashed on the other side as
soon as the door closed. It was followed by another and another. The
kitchen was full of crashing and swearing. He sighed. As soon as the
language became four- lettered, he had known what was coming.
Resigned, he got his jacket and went out. They would need more plates
and things wouldn't they? He doubted if there was even a mug whole in
the kitchen by now.
He'd just closed the front door when the noise stopped. It would be the
Chocolate Digestives next. After half a packet, Nell usually had calmed
down and by the time the packet had gone, she was ready to tidy up.
Then she would have a quiet cup of tea in the one mug (enamel) that
would not have broken.
He knew what had caused her problem. She was the only one in her family
of over-achieving, successful, ambitious, career-minded individuals,
who was, well, laid-back. That's what he had loved her for. She had no
ambitions, no pretensions. She was just a nice, caring, generous
person. She didn't want to live for appearances, or status, or
contacts. She valued the friends she had for their qualities, not for
their social standing.
Now he had opened old wounds by asking her if she fancied a different
holiday, perhaps painting in Provence, or on an archaeological dig in
Peru, or climbing one of the lower Himalayas. Her response had been
what he expected.
'No, No, NO. I can't do any of those things.'
Then all hell had broken loose.
He pondered her lack of self esteem. By the time he got back with the
bargain crockery (no point in getting good stuff), the house was tidy,
his tea was cooking and Nell looked sheepish and apologetic but
calm.
'Perhaps if I took up smoking . . . '
He looked at her quizzically. 'You've too much sense. Besides how would
that make it better?'
Then he took a huge risk. 'You know you can do more than you think.
It's just a question of talking yourself into it. Have more confidence
in yourself like.'
The new crockery looked to be in danger as she picked it up but instead
of throwing it, she took it to the sink and started washing it.
'Maybe I should try.' She sounded flat, depressed.
Joe smiled in relief but knew not to press the point.
'You should. You can do it, kid,' was all he said.
During the next few months, Nell made a great effort to try new things.
The exercise class lasted one night only. She couldn't follow the
leader quickly enough, so was always facing the wrong way, or had an
arm above her head when everyone else had a leg in the air. She joined
a discussion group, but couldn't bring herself to say anything in front
of strangers. Her thoughts were loud and furious, but they were not
thrown into the general arena. She gave that up. She joined a craft
group, but ended up in a knot of wool and thread and fabric after the
first session, so gave up.
She brought all the failures home to Joe and he absorbed them and tried
to bolster her ego.
'You didn't give them much of a try, love. Choose something and stick
with it.'
'I can't,' was all she said, loudly and at length.
Months went by, more or less peaceful months. Nell went to work in the
filling station shop as usual. It was a dull little job, but Nell had
decided it was within her capabilities. In fact, it was all she felt
capable of.
She took payment for petrol and sweets and sundries; all the goodies
petrol companies decided motorists were in need of, well, could be
persuaded to buy. She quite enjoyed chatting to motorists; especially
the ones she could tell were a little tense. She felt she could tell a
road rage incident coming on, and tried to diffuse the situation before
it got out of control. She sympathised, joined the motorist in a few
oaths about the driving public generally, and expressed her certainty
that it needed level-headed drivers like him to keep the roads safe.
She could see him thinking it over as he went back to his car, and felt
that she had done something worthwhile if he actually let a fellow
motorist walk in front of the car to the shop, without blasting the
horn and screeching the front tyres with the bumper inches from his
legs. Of course, she couldn't win them all, but overall most customers
went out smiling rather than swearing.
Joe had come in one day as she was dealing with a most unpleasant
individual who was intent on murdering all the motorists he felt sure
were going to deliberately get in his way while he was driving to work.
He watched as she joked and sympathised and cajoled. The customer went
out still disagreeable, but safe to be on the roads Joe felt sure. When
he congratulated her, Nell looked surprised.
'I can understand anger like that, Joe. I've always had to deal with
it. It's just that I'm not usually in charge of a lethal weapon like a
car at the time.'
'No, only crockery. . .' Joe didn't say it, only thought it. 'But why
are you angry, Nell? Is it me that you're angry with?'
'No, you daft thing. It's just me I get angry with. I let everyone
down. I can't do anything at all. Look at that marvellous holiday you
wanted to go on. Who stopped you doing that, eh?'
Joe couldn't think of anything to say, so said nothing and continued on
his way.
Only slightly later, Nell was conscious of a youth hanging round the
back of the sweet shelves. She decided to keep an eye on him. He didn't
have a car in the forecourt. He looked scrawny and undernourished with
a blue look to his face and frantic staring eyes. She began to be
nervous. There was no one getting petrol at the time which was unusual.
She decided to take the initiative and speak to him, but rejected the
ubiquitous 'Can I help you?' in favour of 'Hi there. Need any
help?'
He didn't say anything, but alarm flashed in his eyes. He's trying to
make up his mind to do something decisive, thought Nell. She'd seen
similar looks in the potential road ragers. Using her experience, she
remembered that anger could be diffused with sympathetic handling. She
took the initiative.
'Bloody awful weather. It'll be winter again and no summer to speak of.
Have you been on holiday?'
The youth's look became wary. Perhaps she was sounding like a social
worker or a probation officer. She tried again.
'Look, I don't want to be nosy, but you seem a little tense. There's no
one else here just now. How about I make us a cup of tea and you can
tell me what's wrong? Nothing personal if you like. It's just that I
hate to see anyone in such pain.'
Two things happened then. Tears started to run down the boy's face and
he pulled a knife.
'I need money. The dealers are after me. Give me all the cash you've
got in the till.'
Nell froze for an instant. There was open fear on the boy's face.
Having the police after him as well as the drug dealers she knew
wouldn't help. Then she got angry herself. How dare these people
involve her in their seedy little lives? She lost the place.
'No, No, NO, NO, NO,' she yelled. The boy dropped the knife startled by
the change in her.
Out of the corner of her eye she spotted two large characters coming
across the forecourt. They may have been the dealers, maybe not, but
she couldn't take any chances. Glancing at the boy, she saw that he was
staring at the men, transfixed in horror. That proved it. She hastily
dashed round and locked the main door. Reinforced glass could not be
broken down in an instant in spite of the iron bar she saw one of the
men carrying.
She phoned the police and put the kettle on. The youth looked
relieved.
'Will it be alright?' he said, looking at her anxiously.
'Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, YES,' said Nell, positively.
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