CLiFF HANLEY

 

 

Being Jeremy

 

Jeremy was really ill. He couldn't tell if it was the drink, or that bloody seafood.

‘Jeremy! What's up with you? You've been snoring all night, and it's late,’ Samantha whined, her voice a gravelly intrusion on Jeremy's determination to avoid beginning the day. Another bloody day. ‘Oh fuck, leave it out Sam. I'm really sick. That fucking fish food-’ ‘You mean the oysters?’ ‘Oh fuck, even the word! Don't say it. Must have been that.’ ‘Don't be silly. If they'd made you ill it would have been last night.’

He rolled off the bed to the floor, leant against the bathroom door for a while. Samantha, fully dressed, began bustling round the little kitchen. The dog, a little terrier, roused himself from his basket, tail wagging, and enthusiastically ran round her as she reached down some food, wielding the tin opener and emptying the contents into his bowl. ‘You bad boy! They'd think I was starving you. Naughty boy.’ Stroking his head as he dug his face into the gourmet meat. Digdigdig...

Jeremy decided he wasn't, after all, going to throw up. He decided to experiment with a bowl of cornflakes. The box was there, on the kitchen table. He sat down. Elbows on the table. Ran his fingers through his hair. Easy enough to turn in the chair and extract the milk carton from the fridge. Poured it in. Mashed the cornflakes. Samantha had stopped petting the animal, and could see what he was doing. He knew she would say something. She always did.

‘Eugh! I thought you’d stopped tha...

 

‘Hurry up now, just time for a cuppa tea. And don’t play with your food! Dad doesn’t play with his food’

‘Mum doesn’t mind.’ - he picked at the blistered paint on the side of his chair - it wasn’t a blister, he knew - it was nosepick...

‘Mind? Of course she minds! And anyway it’ll be time for the bus at half past.’

‘You’ll both be late, if you keep on arguing. Go on, Jerry, finish up,’ their mother interrupted,

‘and it would be better for me if you two went out when your father goes too.’

Jeremy’s big sister was ten years old, almost twice his age, and she reminded him of this whenever possible. She resented his being spoiled as the ‘baby’ of the family. He muttered, through a mouthful of mashed food, ‘I can get the other bus anyway...’

 

‘Bus? What on earth are you talking about? The car-’ ‘Bus? I said I could get. No. I was... somewhere else. I think.’

Samantha leaned her back against the fridge, folded her arms. ‘You really are out of it today. Are you being serious?’

‘Oh, well. Yes. Look, I could really use a coffee.’

‘ There’s nearly a cup here in the jug.’ -Samantha poured out the last of the coffee. Jeremy topped it with a little milk and gratefully drank it down.

‘I don’t know. It’s a feeling, like being sick-’ ‘Sick!’ ‘no, really, like being sick. Nausea maybe a better word. It’s confusing. I thought I was back at home, going to school.’

‘Sleeping with your eyes open? S’not as if you don’t sleep enough.’

‘Wossa time?’

‘God, it’s time I was off. Don’t worry about us, I can walk to the office. Mavis isn’t in today anyway, so...’

‘Thanks. Feel a bit ropey. Maybe a shower, I’ll be okay to drive in later.’

‘Why don’t you take it easy? I mean, you had this before. Remember after the new contract. I thought it was because of that party.’

‘I wasn’t even at the party.’

Samantha gathered up Joey and turned towards the door. He got up and followed them; was about to peck her on the cheek when Joey, his head resting on her shoulder, gave him a sharp little woof. He let them go.

 

A week later, as he was driving to work after dropping his girlfriend and that bloody animal off at the ‘Centre’, he had to take a different route from the usual one: a police car and an ambulance were blocking the entrance to the street, first left. Apart from that, life went on as normal. Jeremy, Samantha and... it was baffling him that she had fancied getting a dog in the first place. In the shop, they were all pretty much the same to him. But he could happily admit that he hated the little animal. Didn’t feel much love for her either, these days. His ‘girlfriend’. Somehow their little flat wasn’t really home as it should be.

The following day, he scanned the paper for news about the accident in the street. It was a nuisance, having to change routine. There was nothing in the paper. Jeremy had mentioned it at the office. ‘An accident? Charlie, the accountant, said, ‘not round here, surely?’

‘Well, yes, it must have been one. Cop cars, ambulances, the lot.’

‘Dunno how I could have missed that one!’

After giving Samantha a deeply searching kiss, ignoring the yipping and whining of the dog, Jeremy let them out at the Centre and drove on. Second right, first left: everything went white. He was being drawn backwards and it was terrifying. It stopped.

 

Joey looked up. He didn't really feel like going for a walk. Splashing in puddles was fine, but he never liked the rain. It annoyed his back. Rolled his eyes at Samantha. It always worked.

‘Oh dear you poor little soul! Come to mummy.’

She bent down to him, picked him up and enfolded him between her plump arms and ample breasts. He opened his mouth wide, waggling his tongue and half-closing his eyes. His lead hung down from his collar, waving around below, unnoticed. The man was watching them. He didn’t care. He liked being a dog, being spoiled, being babied.

He liked his new name too. Joey. Better than the old one.

 

short stories