Two years later
He’d pissed himself again.
“Urgh,” Kaz said feebly and closed his eyes to try and recapture the blissfulness of sleep without the nightmares. It was slightly beyond reach—tantalising, delicious, and nothing to do with the nasty coldness against his legs or the scratchy things attached to his cheek.
He was glued to the pillow by his own vomit.
“Eeeee.” If life was fair, next time he woke up it would be sitting on a beach, drinking one of those amazing cocktails with glass balls and a lady’s skirt on top like on the adverts.
But there was more. As if vomit face and acid on his jeans wasn’t bad enough! He carefully opened one eye and was assaulted by painful swords of light. Yes, there was most definitely a ‘something else’ in the room.
He snapped his eye shut instantly, which began a chain reaction of terrible aches and pains around his body, but mainly his head.
But the something was insistent.
“Whaaaaaa?” Kaz croaked.
“Kaz! Get your lazy arse up now. We’re already late. You’re on a final warning, remember?”
The words went in, but then waltzed right back out, dancing across the room and making no sense.
The awfulness he now identified as banging only got louder.
“If you don’t open this door in five seconds, I’m going to reception to tell them you died in your sleep,” Tork said crossly, and then Kaz made sense of the words.
It was Tork.
Tork was the latest mentor assigned to get Kaz into shape. Unlike all the others, he was relentless and never gave up.
“Oh, no. Please, no,” Kaz whispered. It was Wednesday, and that meant all the horrors were waiting.
Work Experience Placement Day.
“I’m coming. I don’t feel very well.” He groaned loudly, for effect. “It may be serious.”
“No, and that’s because you were shitfaced again last night. Seriously shitfaced.”
“I wasn’t.” He hunched forward and made an attempt to get to the door by shuffling his feet and clutching his stomach at the same time. It was only as he unlocked and opened the door to let Tork in he realised the room stank of urine. “Please, come in,” he said politely and ushered Tork inside as if into a magnificent palace.
But Tork shook his head firmly. “No—oh!” He waved his hands in front of his nose in disgust. “You need a shower.”
“Yes, I was preparing to have one.” It was important to start each new day with a smile, especially when he had nothing else. The room began to spin in a very alarming manner. “As soon as I can let go of this wall.”
Tork sighed. “I don’t have time for this.” He grabbed Kaz’s arm and yanked him unceremoniously across the landing towards the showers. “One day you’re going to push them too far. Get in and turn it onto hot—very hot! You have to be outside ready for the bus in one hour.”
“An hour? You mean I could’ve stayed in bed for ages yet?” Kaz whined and considered staggering back.
“Kaz, it’s going to take you at least an hour to sober up and get clean. Go on.” Tork put his hands on his hips and glared, and Kaz knew defeat. “And use the soap!”
He slid into the bathroom and locked the door, in case Tork came in to check. Kaz wouldn’t put it past him to stand outside waiting, like a sergeant major.
Bleach and deodorant smells began mixing up with the piss and vomit, and then everything went black. Almost in time, he grabbed the edges of the toilet as poison and loss and sadness poured out.
With each retch, his stomach ached and his head pounded. If he lay down here, in this bathroom, and closed his eyes, maybe he’d feel better.
Maybe he’d wake up back at home before everything went to shit.
Or maybe he wouldn’t wake up at all.
“You OK?”
“Yeah,” he called back as strongly as he could.
“Good. Get in the shower, then. I’m not going until I hear the water. Don’t forget the soap.”
Tork’s serious voice made him giggle, which popped out like a donkey snort. He was still drunk, but as there was no answering laugh from behind the door, he crawled across the floor. “I’m in the shower,” he called, feeling bad that Tork went to all this trouble. He didn’t have to, he just did. “Using the soap.”
It took at least a moment to remember he was still wearing clothes, standing there in the shower with his head against the cool wall of tiling.
“I’m turning on the shower now.”
“Good. Hurry up. No time for singing this morning.”
Kaz shrugged his clothes off and nudged them towards the edge of the cubicle. They’d get wet, but bending over to pick them up was far beyond the realms of possibility. Every night he ran, and last night was no exception. His muscles were tight and sore but he no longer cared enough to stretch.
By now, he could easily wash without having to look down at his body to see the prominent ribs and bruises where he’d fallen down drunk. No-one needed to see that, or his betraying hands, and certainly not the wayward penis. He didn’t want to see any of it, so over the last few months, he’d stopped showering unless Tork made him. The more he smelled the less chance of anyone getting too near.
But the warm water was soothing. Tilting his face up towards the flow, he imagined all his mistakes being washed away down the plughole with the traces of vomit stuck in his hair.
“Today is a new day,” he told the pile of clothes uncertainly. Yesterday was a new day, too, but all the newness had ended up down the toilet.
Rubbing his head too vigorously made the ache intensify, so he quickly finished and stepped out. He took six towels from the neat pile and arranged them around his body so only the bottom of his legs showed.
“Here I am,” he said politely to Tork, who stood waiting patiently. None of the other peer mentors Kaz had been assigned got past one week, but Tork still turned up and that was the only reason he still had a room to sleep in.
“What have you done with your clothes?”
Kaz shrugged. “They were filthy.”
“Yes, I realise that, but you can’t leave them in the bathroom for someone else to clean up. Not if you don’t want yet another red mark.”
Kaz watched as Tork found the clothing, now sodden in the shower, and began squeezing them. He should insist on doing this himself.
But still he watched, as if he no longer had any will or control over his limbs.
“Kaz! You can’t behave like this anymore. You’re not a child.” Tork sorted out his clothes and cleaned up the bathroom. “This is the last time I’m doing this for you, OK?”
Kaz nodded politely. “I forgot. Sorry.”
Every few days, he sat with Lisa, his key worker, and went through the hostel rules again, agreeing wholeheartedly with them. But as the day passed, so did the resolutions and hope until all that remained was the desire.
And then came the drink—at first the disgusting abrasion against an already sore mouth which made his body shudder with every swallow.
But then the happiness…
Energy…
And finally blissful forgetfulness and no more headlights screaming into his core.
“How can you forget? All kids learn to clear up after themselves. Now dress yourself. If we hurry, you can still get some breakfast. You’re way too thin.”
Tork had green hair and, according to Lisa, was at the university studying. He had the room next door and a small cat called Dickens. He was quiet and intense—always standing at the back of meetings—never involved in the daily fights of the place. He stood out because of his hair and striking features, but Kaz knew from observation he was also good at disappearing.
“When did you last eat?”
He had shining oval eyes that stared now as if worried. Kaz searched for words but all he found was the tingling in his neck at this concern.
“I—I’m not sure.”
Along the sides of Tork’s arms, the muscles stood out from the weight of the wet clothing. Kaz’s eyes found the biceps with raised lines like tunnels and the various bumps that led down to his hands.
Hands.
Kaz tried to look away. His body shivered as a minor spasm took control.
“Are you OK? I wish you’d talk to me,” Tork said. The edge of his lips moved into a sad smile.
The noises of the building—footsteps and shouts…plumbing pipes and doors closing—froze for a second as Kaz’s eyes refused to obey.
Tork’s arms.
A pang reverberated, like a minor earthquake of the body and heart. He was struck, a gong vibrating until the end of time.
Finally, he blinked.
Stupid, treacherous eyes. Even the cider he’d poured into his face last night hadn’t stopped them noticing.
***
Kaz stepped outside and hurried to the car park through the alwayscold and the gloom of the morning. These days, his dreams were haunted by rain and shivering right through to the bones. This was a miserable, bleak country with hooded people who stood like penguins.
“Good morning,” he said to the small huddle waiting, but as usual, no-one answered. “Good morning, Lisa. I’m excited about my placement,” he said earnestly to his key worker.
She squinted. “Morning, Kaz. Nice to see you on time. Can you come see me when you get back tonight, please?”
He was in trouble again, that much was clear. He tried to think back to last night, and what he might have done after the cheap cider that turned everything good, but there was only a vague sense of having lost something vital. He hoped he hadn’t been shouting outside the church or the mosque again.
“Certainly. I shall be looking forward to it all day!” He beamed, ignoring shuffles and glares from the hoody boys. But Lisa only shook her head slightly and smiled, so maybe he wasn’t in as much trouble as he feared.
As the bus appeared on the horizon, he breathed in deeply and calculated it was roughly eight hours before the placement would be over and he could at last sleep. Maybe he’d manage to sleep all night long without dreams, a beautiful wave of sleep covering the need for food, or cider.
No money again.
No money meant no cider tonight.
“See you later, Lisa.”
“Look after yourself, Kaz.”
He automatically stood back to allow everyone else on first before heaving himself up the steps, knowing they wouldn’t want him sitting next to them anyway and he’d have to stand. Inside, his stomach roiled and clenched and already there was a slight cold sweat across his forehead. He had the shaking hands again and that terrible head Tork called a hangover. He didn’t think his clothes smelled too bad—thanks to Tork—but that wouldn’t stop him feeling dirty.
Outsider.
“Good morning,” he announced to the driver, who nodded back warily.
“There’s seats at the back, son. No need to stand.” The word son went through him.
“Oh, I don’t mind. I like standing.” He smiled and moved further inside the bus so as not to annoy the driver. He clung on and did his best to smile into the distance, not meeting anyone’s eye or offending them with his presence.
***
“Yes, sir, I see. Three piles of wires depending on colour, and then I seal them up and start again. I can’t wait to get started.”
The man in what looked like a blue Babygro frowned. “You taking the piss?” This phrase always made Kaz laugh, even today, when there was absolutely no call for laughing.
“No, sir, I am grateful to be here learning valuable experience about the work environment,” he explained seriously, because that was indeed what his information from the job centre said, along with statistical information about how much more likely he was to find work if he utilised the opportunities this scheme would give him. What Kaz had to be was enthusiastic, dynamic and a team player. The man put his hands on his hips for a bit so Kaz smiled hopefully, until he moved away, looking back every so often to glare.
This was very much more than a million miles from the advanced university course Kaz had been studying at home, but such thinking would do him no good nor would it help him sort the wires into three colours. He quickly got started, trying to divert thoughts of the past by concentrating on his growling stomach and pulsing head. The red wires seemed to flash like alarm bells, but he knew it was a trick of the light.
By lunchtime, the headache had taken over his whole being. The smallest movements caused waves of nausea and a clammy sweat to break out on his forehead. He felt so shit that if there was a hole in the ground, he’d have gladly crawled in like a rat.
He made sure to wait until all the other workers had entered the staffroom before he slid in. Of course, there would be no seats left, but even if there were, he always sat on the window ledge.
Knew his place.
It was so warm his eyelids began to close on the workers opening sandwiches and packets that made his empty stomach growl. He was starving, always starving, but somehow he forgot about mealtimes until it was too late. Maybe later, he’d be able to steal food.
The workers began chattering to each other about TV, their lives and what they had in their sandwiches.
“What you got in yours?” one of the women asked.
“Cheese. Dunno why my mum always packs me cheese ’cause I hate it.”
The pang sliced through Kaz clean as a machete. He blinked repeatedly to stop the sudden tears that welled up.
Mother.
Someone caring enough to make me lunch.
Someone caring at all.
But still, the tears squeezed through, threatening to overwhelm him, the room, the factory and this freezing-cold shitty country. He hadn’t deserved a mother. Not like all these good people.
***
When he finally got home, Kaz stepped wearily into his room without looking. This was always the worst part of the day, when nagging pulled and poked until he had to flee and find alcohol. If he had money, it was easy; if not, he’d learned of other ways to get it. A few times, he’d stolen from people at the placements, but it was easy enough to exit the shop carrying a whole bag full of ciders. If he was caught, there would be serious consequences, but none of that bothered him too much.
He flopped back onto his bed, longing for sleep to take him away from the thundering panic and flashing red.
The emptiness dripped inside.
“Kaz, you there?” Tork’s voice floated through his half sleep and sensation of walking. Even when dozing, the nightmares waited.
“Yeah. Come in.” He sat up and rubbed his face as Tork handed him a bottle of carbonated water. He dropped his bag on the floor, which opened to reveal a wallet.
“Here, drink this. Adam says it’s the best thing for a hangover.” He went to stand by the window in the sun and crossed his arms. Kaz watched, not looking at the mess in the room. This boy had thought of him and brought him water. “How’re you feeling?”
“Thank you for the water. Better than earlier. I was starting to tidy up.”
Tork grimaced. “No, you weren’t. You still don’t look so good.” He uncrossed his arms and looked down at his fingers.
“I’m stopping drinking now. Last night was my last night.” Kaz could easily distract him, then take money from the wallet.
“You want to come running with me and Adam later? I can’t get any faster, doesn’t matter what I do. Each night, I push myself, but I think I’m going backwards. I saw you running again last night—shitfaced, but way faster than I’ll ever be. How do you run so fast when you’re drunk?”
Kaz almost stopped breathing.
“No, thank you, I’m very busy. But thank you for asking. What you must do is vary your training—going hard seven nights a week is no good. Your typical week should include three hard runs: a run featuring short, fast effort; a longer run at high intensity; and an even longer endurance run. These three hard runs should be separated by slow, easy runs.”
The voice was his, but the words belonged to Coach. This was easily the most words he’d said in one go since leaving home. He was caught by Tork’s startled expression. “For example, you might choose to perform your hard runs on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, take Monday off, and do easy runs on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday.”
He stopped and something that was stretched as old parchment broke inside.
Tork stared. “Oh, wow. You absolutely know what you’re talking about. Can I write that down?”
“Of course. Please ask me anything, I’m happy to help.”
Tork took a notepad from his bag and began scribbling. “I’m so not a runner, but Adam is in charge of this sponsored run for the shelter in town. He’s so buzzed about it I want to do good.”
“The shelter?”
“Oh, it’s a place for the homeless. Adam works there now, but he used to volunteer when I was in trouble and went for help. It’s where we met.” Tork stopped writing, and Kaz saw the way his face lit up. “There’s four in the team—me and Adam, and two more volunteers from the shelter.”
“How far is the race?”
“Each runner does a different length—2k, 4k, 6 and then 10k, which is way too far for me. All the local running clubs are competing, including the university team.” He laughed and was so nice that Kaz laughed with him despite Tork’s words of being in trouble, the shelter and running fired about like meaningless whistles. “We can never beat them. But Adam has the local TV news station involved, and now we’re being filmed!” He shook his head.
“Do you have to win to get the money?”
“No, but we have to get through the trial run.” He smiled shyly.
Kaz didn’t think he’d ever seen Tork speak for longer than an hour without mentioning Adam. He’d seen a blond boy coming and going into Tork’s room without even checking anyone was following.
“So where did you learn to run like that? Back in your own country?”
This took Kaz’s breath clean away.
He choked then turned it into a cough. At first, he was terrified of people asking questions, but after the official stuff, no-one ever had. One of the workers suggested he kept things private until he was ready, which, of course, meant it was a secret. He didn’t look so different from many of the people in this city, and as long as he kept quiet, he could live as insignificant as a speck of dust.
His own country.
A sensation like liquid being poured over him began from his ears. He tried to answer, but nothing came out.
Tork sat on the edge of his bed. He always kept his distance so this was in itself extraordinary. It brought Kaz back from the brink of tears.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. But…” Tork spoke quietly as always, like he wasn’t sure of anything he said. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.” He laughed softly. “That’s such a cliché.”
“He’s your best friend?” Kaz asked suddenly. Of course he knew, and it was wrong to ask—so wrong he deserved whipping. But the question was out.
“Adam? My boyfriend, yes.” Tork rubbed his legs absently. “Best friend, too.”
The bravery and stupidity of this statement was too much for Kaz to absorb all in one go. Later on, he’d go over it a million times and wonder at the lack of fear.
Boyfriend. A friend with a boy—just a friendship with another boy.
“Do you get much trouble?” he asked, fearfully.
Boyfriend.
“Oh, yeah. Adam is a huge pain in the butt—nothing but trouble to me,” Tork said, but his eyes shone and Kaz saw he had no idea what his question had meant. “But I had better go and do some work on my assignment. Don’t forget you have your weekly catch-up with Lisa at six. She asked me to come along, so I’ll see you there. And don’t worry—I’ve told her you’re a star mentee.” Tork said kindly, making Kaz shiver.
“I’ll be there. Thanks for the water, Tork. I’ll start cleaning up my room—sorry about the mess. It was lovely chatting to you!”
Tork leaned his head on one side and frowned a little. “No need for sorries or thank you.”
It was only after he’d left that Kaz noticed the pack of sandwiches Tork had left him on the table.
***
As he set off to hunt down the cider, Lisa was waiting at the end of the corridor. His heart lurched, and for an instant, so did his face. To compensate, he waved manically. “I was coming to see you,” he lied. “I had such a good day!”
She looked him up and down, then indicated her head sharply towards the office. “Inside, please.”
“Thank you, Lisa, I’d be delighted.”
He did his best to walk head up but as they entered reception, there were many people hanging around. Some were laughing, some arguing, and there was no way to get to the office except straight through. He was bound to bump into someone, and then they’d see him.
But as Lisa went through, they moved aside so he could slip away without too much fuss. It was stupid but he gave his shelf a quick glance for any letters.
His head was pounding from the hangover and lack of sleep but still he maintained the smile.
“Come in, please. Have a seat.”
Tork was sitting there with another man in a smart suit. Kaz’s heart went from normal to a million beats per hour, and for a second, his smile wavered. He must be from the immigration department or the police. He remembered the conversation with Tork about boyfriends.
“Good afternoon,” he fired out quickly. He was ready to lie if necessary.
“Hey,” Tork said and patted the seat next to him. “Sit by me. I opened the window so you can get some air.” He widened his eyes slightly. “How are you feeling now?”
“Fantastic, thank you for asking.”
Tork laughed gently.
“Kaz, this is Luca. Remember me telling you about him?”
He didn’t remember Lisa telling him, but then again, he didn’t remember much of last night, last week, or last month, either. “Oh, yes. It is lovely to meet you,” Kaz stood up and offered his hand to the man, who took it and squeezed. It was only for an infinitesimal second but instantly Kaz’s eyes went to the man’s hand, then arm. Oh, he looked strong. Hairy, too. Arms that could hold and be held.
Coach.
He pulled his hand away quickly, but not before red flashed before his eyes.
“Hi, there. Has Lisa explained what I’m here for?”
Tork said uncertainly, “You should probably explain again. Kaz has been very…busy…so he might’ve forgotten.” He smiled, and Kaz watched himself slipping down a huge steep slope. Tork had seen him throwing up, crawling on all fours and once trying to climb a drainpipe, but still he covered for his failures, day after day.
“Luca is a volunteer at the City For Sanctuary project. Remember? We talked about it. Kaz?” she said impatiently. “They offer support to asylum seekers and people struggling to find their feet. He wanted to meet you and see if you’re getting what you need. You missed the last two times he came here.”
“Oh, I’m getting everything I need, thank you. I’m so grateful to everyone,” Kaz said earnestly, and meant it. “I’m very happy here and do not need further help that could go to someone more needy.”
“That’s good,” said Luca after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. He leaned forward onto his legs, his hands together in front. He had muscular-looking legs. “How old are you?”
“Twenty,” Kaz said after a moment. Had he missed another birthday? Was he already twenty-one?
Lisa was watching him closely. “See the thing is, Kaz, I don’t think you are OK. I want to help, but I can’t if you won’t speak to me,” she said flatly, and the room lurched. All three of them stared, even Tork, who bit his lip. “Every night, you get shitfaced and vomit everywhere. You miss all your appointments, and you look terrible.” She paused to sigh. “You miss lock-up time then wake everyone up ringing the bell at three a.m. I’ve had complaints about you banging on the doors at midnight from the mosque, the church and the synagogue up the road. I know it was you, because everyone else was in bed! I mean—what the hell?” She paused to glare. “You steal food and money, and leave piles of stinking clothes in the bathroom. You’re a mess. But then you come in here and say everything is brilliant. You know you’re on a last warning?”
“I am so terribly—”
“You also know alcohol on the premises is banned, right?” She waited until he could nod. “But I know you bring it in anyway. It’s not fair on the other residents and they don’t like it. Why should they? We’ve got some very vulnerable kids here. You’ve had more warnings than anyone else, but you don’t seem to care.” She sighed again. “Kaz, I feel like we’re at the end. I don’t often fail with people, but…”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll start again. ”
“You’ve already been through three peer mentors, Kaz. Three! Months ago, you got your final warning. Months, Kaz. Tork is your last chance, but he’s not your servant. He’s here to help, not to be used. I’ve seen him washing your clothes and mopping your room. How many times have we already had this conversation? It has to change.” Her voice was steady, but the anger filled the room. Tork gazed at him, his eyes wide.
“Yes, I’ll most certainly…”
Tork looked away at last, and Kaz’s whole body began to clench.
“And, I really didn’t want to bring this up but John from the placement said—” She scratched her nose. “He doesn’t want you back there, because the other workers complain about the smell.”
He closed his eyes for as long as he could.
“Kaz!”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She sighed heavily.
Tork’s hesitant voice drifted into the blankness. “Lisa, he’s been improving so much these last few weeks, though. I absolutely think he’s turned a corner. This week, I’ve noticed a big change. He offered to help train my sponsored run team, because one of his targets is to join a club and get out more.”
“Oh,” she said. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Yes. We could really use his help,” Tork said earnestly. “It would be good for Citywise, too—Adam has the media involved.”
Lisa narrowed her eyes.
“Think how good it will look in the news—‘Boy fleeing war-torn country helps raise money for local shelter. Helped by Lisa.”
She laughed. “Don’t overdo it.”
Tork shrugged. “You can’t overdo charity, Lisa.”
From between the slits of his fingers, Kaz saw her look at Luca, who nodded.
She stood up. “All right. We’ll talk about it later, but looks like you’ve got a last chance. And I said last. You’ve got Tork to thank for that, and I want a detailed report of your training, including pictures.”
Kaz nodded dumbly.
“Me and Tork will leave you now to have a little chat with Luca, OK? And here.” She handed him a small bag. “It’s deodorant and toiletries.”
After they’d left, Kaz realised he could smell his own feet. The worry of this sent him into sweat overdrive. He shifted on the chair and thought he might faint.
“Kaz, don’t worry. I’m a volunteer trying to help people like you integrate and get over what they went through to get here. I can see you’re finding it hard.”
But his words went over, in, through and straight back out, like he no longer had capacity to hold them or hear them above the crashes of the waves or the creaking of a child’s faulty red buggy.
Words.
* * * * *