Red, red wine

16

Factory fodder, between whirring machines, keep hearing about – Michael. I’m almost laughing, I am a very dense 16yo but to all accounts he is a 14yo, almost 15, everybody, wants.

Don’t get it, my head resides with the older man, not younger.

Several Saturday nights later, I’m ensconced in the locale night life of these idiots making the constant noise re – Michael.

New drinking ground for me. I’m sat against a wall when he comes in, but there is no mistaking he has arrived.

Idiocy, female frenzy, now I can begin to see why the fuss, 15 almost he might be, but he is handling all of this with a coolness that is way beyond his years. Not interested. Not perturbed. Deep. I’m sitting back watching, already knowing, we are two of a kind. He is used to it – too.

Ok, game over, feel empathy for him. If only these crazy people could understand, being ‘clawed’ at, obsessed over like this, is not pleasant. I get up, smile at him and walk out, wait for him at the door, he is right behind me.

There are mutual smiles and off we go walking, away from, the madness.

We stand in a shop doorway, nothing needs said, nothing needs done, the only thing needed is we are in the same space. Peace.

Neither has touched the other, we just are, and on it will go.

By Monday, factory is nuts, these next town girls proclaiming S is dating M. No such thing.

If asked back then what  was going on with M and I, response would be no idea, and if asked now, the answer would be the same…

No idea.

That is an unusual answer for me cos normally I know all, but no, this was just an affinity, unspoken understanding of each other, no rhyme, no reason, but this is going to have dire outcomes. .

At work, im already losing friends from his locale, he doesn’t date people, much as they have all tried and I can see why, but im not dating him either. They fail to see that.

Weeks go by, Saturday nights, we’d leave the pub scene, go outside and just sit, talking or go walking. Innocence all of it.

For sure, I’d feel, see want in him at times, natural, but not what we were ever about, and I have despite thickness an inbuilt barometer, older men okay for sex, younger men, not.

All I know is this time stuck together away from the noise and the alcohol is something – good.

Is always on his turf, not mines, he would not even know where I lived, until directed.

In my bedroom, I hear the door knock downstairs.

Father answers, muffled voices. I’m sure I  just heard Michael, not here surely?

I’m hearing the door close, am already up, moving, Father meets me on the stairs..

Some guy Michael? Asking for you? Don’t worry he has already left  in a  car, he fires.

I want to run to the door, but I know it is already too late now.

In a car? My head is on overdrive. In what car would M ever be arriving at my door when he does not even know where my door is, far less does he have capacity to be ‘globe-trotting’? I already know something is not right.

Next night, sat eating dinner in a takeaway, the news station bleats out, ‘ Boy found dead in upturned stolen car’.

Michael is my instant thought, I know it is Him.

I down food, denying, start a slow walk home.

As soon as I cross living room floor, his name has been released.

Cruella, my stepmother, says, just been on the TV, Michael, found dead, he was here last night wasn’t he?

I look at my father and say, yes, his head hangs.

His head will hang for a long time on this one, rightfully cos if only he had answered the question at the door right, the boy would never have died! Instead his jealous, possession saw a kid, killed.

Life becomes a hurtful blur. Everyone wants Truth suppressed. Cop investigation; he has injuries not fitting with car accident, unexplained injuries, but non the less, left in an overturned car, hanging by a seat belt – to die.
Despite evidence of other injuries, cop investigation, halts.

I’m already reading the story backwards and is later clarified. My ‘want to be’ gang rapists from years before are the ones that picked him up, are  the ones that brought M to my door. Gang rape attempt 3 is order of day, their plan.

They are the ones that beat shit out of him once he left my door empty handed of me, they are the ones that left him hanging in a seat belt, still breathing.

If I’d have known he was there with them, I’d have dragged him out of that car! Instead, he was met with a lie at my door, told, I was not in.

I don’t know how the fuck people can do this, the gang rape attempts were years before, and, to this point, im aware of this mobs continual presence. but pretty much in oblivion to fact these bastards are still watching my life so intently, they can do this to M.

He is gone. I have mass feelings of responsible for, wont be the first time.

The news pours out, his family stuff. I feel so separated, so far away from one there is deepest bond with. I must remain – silent. He has many older brothers, all big characters, why he is so confident, yet so humble. He was never like them, they were all wise guys, yet wanted M the innocent angel for themselves.  Well they had it, was his trust, innocence, wound him up – dead!

The news bleats on, the more I hear, the more I ache cos is not him they are describing.

He is being banged down as some criminal kid killed in a stolen car. I know other, he has never been in any trouble. He would never get in a car if he knew it was stolen. Just not in Him. He got in the car, conned by these guys, pretending to be nice and offering to give him a lift to my house. When my father shut that door, M had no option but to get back in that car, stuck in another town, no way back. These vile guys wanted me in that car, round 3, did not happen, would never have happened either.

I spend days lost, his funeral commencing, I cant go, how can I, his family might ask who the fuck are you, why are you here and there are things that closeted families don’t want to know.

He is Michael, their angel, who will have no relationships whatsoever, how does that hinge with, well actually, my name is S and we spend every Saturdy night together, doing nothing bad, but, hey your son died cos criminal bastards conned him into a car to come to my house?

I love this guy with purity, but can be nowhere near the grieving process I need to be going through

Weeks later, woolworths steps, an old friend, julie with her new boyfriend. He, is not one of the ex gang rape mob, but was in that car, that night with some of them…
I can’t believe what im hearing, but I know it is all aimed for my ears! They are actually bragging, boasting, laughing about beating the shit out of M and leaving him for dead.

Pain, vengeance, is racking my being. Ok, they have got what they want –  or dont. I explode with pained anger.

Pouncing, I grab this piece of shit and slam his head on the floor, he is not getting up for a long time, I will keep this piece of shits head bounced of the floor till he begs for stop.  If the cops wont act, and the fuckers are  goading baiting re what they have done to Michael – then, I will act. He is in one very sorry state now is this evil mouth piece, and needs to be.

I still ache re injustice for Michael, but know God has in arms.

He never put a foot wrong and that is what in mature years concerns me now…

What if his family belief cops and media – that he was a criminal that nicked a car and died during? I’d hate with all my heart they ever thought that cos he’d never do this.

I so wanted to be at Michaels funeral but could not be, I need to go lay flowers there…

This song came out a while after he died, reminded me of Him, still, does…