Sunday, October 16, 2011
I Know Where You Live
I was a quiet lad, music my only interest.
It seemed to me, looking back, that it was his lifes purpose to make mine a misery.
I recognised him immediately he walked in the bar, the very air changed. Even Herself noticed. He was a teenager the last time I layed my vengeful eyes on him, a younger, bigger lad than I, with a wont for proving his manliness by lording power over the slighter lads on the street, always accompanied of course by his band of followers, a cackle of weak upstarts, afraid of said power, afraid of him, and so surrendered to their master, always at his back, his army of pawns.
He however did not know me from the proverbial Adam as he sat his fat arse and rotund middle, not to mention a skull that was never designed , (unlike my own), to be bald, six inches from where I was having my usual Sunday night date with Herself. He had done well for himself (I later learned from my brother), making a small fortune in a local tackle & bait company. I presume his first marriage had failed as I'm quite sure the young girl with the eastern European accent was definitely not the girl he married thirty years ago.
Though I kept my back to him, I could feel his cold cowardly voice go through my brain, as it had done all those years ago. I stuck it out for a couple of hours, but I could not settle, could not even take in the words coming from the mouth of my love. It was time to leave.
"I'm off to the gents" says I to Herself, "and we'll be off".
I knew he recognised me when I walked back into the bar.
I ignored him.
Wouldn't catch his eye.
He actually poked me in the back to get my attention!
"You're Stewart, aren't you?" he smiled, "You don't know me do you?"
I buttoned my coat as I looked him in the face.
"I know exactly who you are" I said as I put out my hand to shake his.
His girlfriend smiled back as I said goodnight.
I turned back as we left to see him read the note I had slipped into his hand.