Alef Elf

Groping

23 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment

by alefelf in Life Tags: auto-biography, boyhood, Family

There was too much blood. Again and again the thought echoed through Adrian’s nine year old mind; there was too much blood. It was in the sink, it stained the toilet and the bath, it seeped through the crepe bandage on his mum’s wrist. There was just too much blood. The ghastly scene illuminated by the overhead lighting chilled him to the bone, numbed him. He never even heard the sirens outside.

Adrian sat with his back to the wall in the sunny playground playing with his toy car in the dust. Samuel’s attempt to take the car away from him was clumsy and slow. As if in slow motion Adrian watched Samuel reach out, groping, hand already shaped to take hold of the car. It was easy enough to put the car beyond Samuel’s reach. Samuel tried to take it from him. Adrian did not like to be this close to Samuel. Samuel was the dirty boy that everyone called “Gypo”.  “Get of, it’s mine Gypo,” cried Adrian. He saw the anger in Samuel’s face; he scrambled to his feet and ran.

His mum was not mental, she was not mad, she was only here because she had hurt her wrist. His mum should not be here, he should not be here. Mum and dad were sitting in the sunshine on a bench in the hospital gardens. Dad was talking, mum was crying and Adrian did not want to be here. He wandered off amid the formal flower beds. The old man wore a shabby grey jacket that reminded Adrian of the jacket Samuel wore.

Samuel cornered Adrian and fell upon him. The unwashed smell was all over Adrian, smothering him, covering him. Both boys were scrambling wildly without much affect. Adrian had never been in a fight before but he knew he was losing. Around them the other children had crowded, cheering yelling . Now Adrian was feeling pain and shame but above the crowded faces he saw a dinner lady, she would save him, she would stop the fight. She turned and walked away. Adrian knew he was being punished for calling Samuel a Gypo, or perhaps she just didn’t like Army kids.

The old man was so bent over he was hardly any taller than Adrian. He smiled at the boy and Adrian smiled back. He shuffled closer and drew his arm around Adrian’s shoulder. Adrian could see the grey hairs amid his stubble and feel the old man’s hand trembling upon his shoulder. As if in slow motion he watched the old man’s other hand, already shaped to take hold of Adrian’s zip, reach out and fumble with Adrian’s trousers.

The boys had fought their way back into the middle of the playground. They parted and Samuel threw a punch. Adrian felt the impact of the blow and felt himself toppling backwards. Everything became surreal. He felt as if he had gone as stiff as a board and was falling like a tree. But, even as he fell he knew what would happen next, he knew what had to happen next. The crowd of children let out a single “Ooooo!” as Adrian fell to the floor and then gasped as he bounced, as though his head was made of rubber, straight back up again. Using the momentum he had gained Adrian returned the blow and sent the other boy reeling backwards. The dinner lady stopped the fight.

Adrian twisted out of the old man’s grasp. For a stunned moment he stared aghast into the old man’s face. He stared aghast into his mothers face. He stared aghast into the face of the dinner lady. He felt the futile weakness of his own groping hands but he also felt the promise of strength to come.