The Stranger

(by John Gabriel)

Episode 5

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1. You’ve probably decided what has gone on. What petty misdemeanour I’ve perpetrated and have catastrophised about. You’ve even learnt a new word. Then again maybe you’re one step ahead of me. Have you second guessed me all the way? Lesser people have, but never let on. As I’ve said before, I can see it in their eyes. Not that you’re a lesser person than most. No, that wasn’t the inference. I credit you with some sense, some kind of empathy even. We’ve all done things we regret haven’t we? Even you. I know you have because I know that secretly you’re wanting me to have done something so heinous that it will distract you from your own guilt. You’ve done some bad things in your time haven’t you? But how bad? How would you know, because you’ve never plucked up enough courage to compare your guilt with someone else’s. Your guilty secret or secrets. Yes, why of course, you may have more than one secret. OK, let’s assume you have more than one secret that gnaws away at you. Dare you tell a close confidant? How can you? The only way you can tell them with confidence is if you come to some form of reciprocal agreement and spill the beans together. Your story in exchange for their story. But what if they don’t have a story, or what if their story is something trivial? Tricky one. And that’s why we all keep them hidden, store them away and allow them to tap, tap, tap away at our insides. On a quietday you can hear them. When the friends have gone and you’re all alone, the rot starts to sting. It bites from the inside out and works it’s way through your head twisting memories until the sound inside is unbearable and you find the outside world closing in. If it were an infection you could see, you’d ask the doctor for a prescription, but there’s no cure for a build up of guilt and regret. But for now, we’ll content ourselves with someone else’s inexorable fall from grace, because that will keep the wolf from the door and shore up the barrier around our mind.

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2. When you were small, what did you want to be when you grew up? My ambitions changed every few years, but mostly they were good intentions. Many of my friends wanted to be teachers or nurses, or firemen. That was in the days before firewomen and then firefighters. Now we can all dream to be firefighters, and quite right too. I’m all for equality, especially if it means being rescued from a burning building by a particularly attractive young lady. I think my friends had noble ambitions. I wish I could go back and choose the career I always wanted, but when it came down to it I was given choices at too early an age. Pick your exam subjects, be it O Levels, Standards or GCSEs, but you’re basically too young to know or care what you want to do with your life. At that age all you’re really wanting to do is sit around and think about the opposite sex and maybe listen to a few bands with the idea of forming your own, going on the road and spending the rest of your life lying around with the opposite sex. It’s like giving the vote to 4 year olds. Prettiest colour gets elected. Now there’s a thought.

3. I chose badly. I’ve chosen well on occasion, but when it comes down to it, oh, how I have chosen badly.

4. But, regrets are for losers, apparently. Just like ambition. By all accounts if you have ambition, you are a failure because you’ve not yet achieved. And achievement is all in this day and age. When capitalism is king, achievement is all and failure will never be tolerated. I bought into all that at one stage, had good prospects, a university education backed by a good work ethic. But it wasn’t enough to paper over the cracks. No matter how much I acted out the part, the suit never sat quite as comfortable as I thought it would. Playing games with business and pretending I was a "key player", that was easy, but when it dawned on me that my half-arsed decisions were actually impacting on a whole procession of lives, then I started to get jumpy. It wasn’t a game any more, it was real, even though most of my colleagues seemed to think they were back in dressing up corner again.

5. Do you know, I’ve only just realised I haven’t introduced myself. We’ve been chatting for so long, or rather I’ve been chatting at you for so long, and I haven’t even told you my name. Then again we’ve all had that haven’t we? The annoying guy at the bar or the weirdo on the bus? Why would you want to know their name? It’s not as if you’re going to strike up a lasting relationship with them is it? Quite right. And anyway, you’d rather keep yourself to yourself wouldn’t you. Give them a false name if they ask and if they ask for your number, leg it. Some people are just so presumptuous.

6. Well, call me presumptuous, but seeing as you’ve had to put up with my rantings for the last wee while I think I ought to introduce myself.

7. My name is Jake.