"The Unspeakable Consequence Of Thoughtless Chatter" : An LMP Green Tale

Sam entered his cubicle. He stretched and took a sip of his fresh coffee. The graveyard shift; his personal favourite. Sam was always excited by the prospect of meeting the challenge of whatever will happen in the dead of the night. The fact that the city was always unpredictable, made his blood pressure rise up a notch. He flopped down happily into his comfy chair. His present vocation was the opposite of his last job; nonetheless they were intricately connected. Back then, his thoughts when entering those overcrowded unhappy offices was inevitably; another day, another shitty cold call; another angry disjointed voice informing him : 

"Yes! We are more than happy with our current provider! Please do not call again!" 

He never thought fondly about the person he'd been. He drank his coffee, enjoying the effects of the added gurana. He settled further into his chair; felt his mind focusing and he looked expectantly at the switchboard. The main thing in his actual job was to be sharp, keep an ear out for signs; and for goodness sake don't say anything he might regret. How long had it been since the incident? How many years? Twenty?... Twenty five? But regardless of the passage of time; he'd never forget that day. 

*******

"Hey, where're you calling from?" The boy cautiously inquired.

An unusual fascination rose in his chest; caused by the curiosity behind the kid's voice. For no reason he felt a sudden relief at the release from the typical call centre tedium. He decided to go off script. Unaware of the terrible price, sometimes attached, to the unspeakable consequences of thoughtless chatter. 

"This is John Smith, calling from Over The Rainbow Inc." 

Sam had smiled to himself when he'd said that. He'd had six hours of relentless insults and boredom. It was obvious to everyone working in the call centre, that the field agents had chosen an area of the city where a lot of migrants lived. They'd gone door to door while the kids were in school and the husbands were at work. They'd disgracefully frightened all the housewives and mothers, into signing new gas contracts.  

Their pitch was simple. They threatened these poor women with their gas being cut off, if they didn't sign. It was now his job to clean up their mess. Still, six hours non stop apologising, was gruelling. 

When that first sentence slipped from his lips, he believed it to be comical inspiration. He loved the way the kid connected.

"Oh yeah? Sounds awesome! And what do you do?"

Sam just free-styled backstories, products, services, even colleagues who all worked at "Over The Rainbow Inc". Each tale was more outrageous, than the last. He'd sensed the youngster grinning down the telephone wire; and it spurred him on till he heard a first chuckle. At that moment he rested back on his crappy, call-centre, office chair, put his hands behind his headset; and looked and felt, very much the feline with the cream. The kid broke the smug silence: 

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

This was the moment where Sam learnt, that anything, literally anything can happen to anyone at anytime; for any reason, with no forewarning; and no visible pattern. Nine words framed with a question-mark; that lead to a chain reaction of nonsensical, badly thought out responses and unforeseen consequences.

"When my Dad comes home; can I kill him?"

What came next was mainly a blur, but one thing was for certain; (because corporate played the conversation back to him shortly afterwards; it'd been recorded for training purposes) not at any point did he command :

"No! You cannot kill your father!" 

He said a lot of other things. Things he found edgy and funny. Things he prayed would be interpreted by the lens of irony. But he did not say, "No!" 

He finally hung up on a panic induced whim; because he belatedly understood the kid was listening intently to every word. Five minutes later his floor supervisor Trevor quietly ushered him from his cubicle to the office. He was fired immediately and without apology or remorse.

Sam was hurt as only inexperienced people can be. His parting shot at Trevor was :

"This is bullshit!" 

He stormed out of the building; phoned his mate Steve; they met for pints and put the world too rights; as only drunk, irresponsible, naive tweens can. 

A few days later while on a train travelling to his parent's place he picked up a local newspaper a commuter had left behind. On page 4 there was a 20 word blurb that turned his insides to ice.

Immigrant Father, kills only son. Taken into custody, swears he acted in self-defence. Police authorities baffled as to motivation. 

Sam inexplicably looked around; certain the big meaty hand of authority was about to rise out of the shadows; grip his shoulder and whisk him away to face unspeakable punishment for his stupid actions. 

No such luck, his guilt lamented. 

He breathed deeply to steady himself. 

"It needn't be him" he muttered under his breath. 

"Of course it isn't" he thought to himself "What would the odds be?"

He read on. 

On the night of the fifteenth, (Thank Goodness that's the day after the call) Bosnian citizen Preben Tahirović; fatally stabbed his only son, Besim Tahirović; Authorities were alerted to a domestic situation by the neighbours. Upon arrival the eight-year-old boy was severely injured. Emergency services rushed him to a hospital; he died on route. While being detained by the police; the father kept shouting it was self-defence and an accident. The man clearly shaken was driven away from the scene. Investigators are still uncertain as to the events; and are currently not commenting on whether Mr Tahirović;will be formally charged with first degree murder....

Sam stopped reading. His guts were churning and his eyes were wet. 

"It can't be! I was only joking! It was a stupid misunderstanding!"

He was numb for the rest of the trip. 

At the Sunday dinner table, the only thing his parents and his sister were talking about was the incident. His father, typical working class Tory, spouted his usual anti refugee vitriol. His mum tried to sound considerate but came of condescending when she claimed. 

"It's to be expected; what with them coming from a war torn country. Violence begets violence". 

His sister, ever the lefty, got into a slanging match with their dad. No one noticed how quiet Sam was. He excused himself; went to the upstairs bathroom and sat softly crying for a good five minutes. He stood up looked at himself long and hard in the mirror and made a decision. Back downstairs he finished his meal quietly. He hugged and said goodbye to his parents and lil sis. On the train ride home his new-found determination took on more and more life. 

That night he booted up his commodore switched the modem on; and listened to those weird noises waiting for a connection. While standing by, he wrote a quick note in word. When the internet was online he did a brisk yahoo search. He spontaneously resolved to fire of an email and went to bed. 

After a shitty night of little sleep Sam reluctantly got up, drank his coffee quickly; and without any bathroom prep pulled on his clothes from the day before and went outside. He got up to the high street and was the first customer in his bank. He withdrew all his saving and what was currently on his checking account. Going to the payphone he spoke on his sis's answering machine; asking her to tell their parents his plan. He strove away purposely to take the 93 bus. 

******

Decades later, in his new workplace Sam smiled at the switchboard in front of him. He couldn't wait for his first call of the evening. He nipped again at his coffee and fell back into a reverie.

******

The plane landed in Sarajevo. He was greeted at the airport by Bahrudin Dedic; (They would become good friends over the years) his appointed U.N. guide; who drove him to the nearby school where he'd applied by email to help out and possibly teach. 

For no other reason than utter desperation; the U.N. programme he'd reached out to had accepted and approved his application by the next day. Sam took this for a sign. Though if you'd ever talked to him in a pub; he would've told you fatalism is bollocks mate. Still, it takes a village of experiences to raise a mind. 

The state of the city shocked him. The obvious bullet holes and half demolished buildings where like nothing he'd ever seen. Bahrudin told him reports of what had transpired. He choked up in many places at the telling for the atrocities were still raw and recent. Sam felt a panic rising in his chest he realized exactly how much he was in over his head. He needed to say something, or he was going to vomit. 

"Is it true that Bosnian names have meanings?"

"Of course. Is it not the same with English names?"

"No, not really... My name, Sam for example is short for something. God only knows if it's Samuel or Samson or Samantha for that matter. So no, no we don't have meanings."

"This is odd. But you are a funny people. No, we feel great pride about our names and heritage."

"What does the name Besim mean?"

"Ah this is a good name. A strong name. It means..."

Bahrudin paused, obviously trying to find the correct and fitting words. 

"It is like lucky soul I think."

"Lucky?"

"No, you are right, not lucky...erm... let me think...err... maybe...happy... happy soul...yes that is the right translation. Why? Do you know a Besim?"

"Briefly."

Bahrudin didn't recognize the word but Sam didn't have the strength to explain. He closed his eyes and lent his weary brain on the headrest in the car. They continued in silence.

Those years in Sarajevo were fundamental for Sam. He changed in so many ways. He set out to help as many people as possible. He dived in taking time to got to know the culture, and the history. He helped so many kids and teens get their required language qualifications and move on. 

When he phoned home, his Dad would give him stick. He didn't understand how his only son would equip them foreign types with the skills to succeed in England. His Mum worried if the bloodshed wasn't still happening and that Sam was safe. His lil Sis was always proud and inspired by him. She was considering getting a TESOL and travelling the World. Much to their father's distaste. 

In his new line of work, he taught many kids with the surname Tahirović; but none appeared related to either Besim or Preben. In fact Sam regretted never tracking the mother down. In his heart he knew he'd never be able to reveal the events to her. Never have the strength to admit that he was the source of the pain, anguish and chaos. An undeniable, whale sized incident that had undoubtedly swallowed her and Preben; just like Jonah's prize fish.

No, he had run from that kind of redemption. He didn't exactly lament it, but he knew his cowardice wasn't the real path. Still, cowardice wasn't the only thing in his life. Sam was plagued with guilt by what had come to pass. Thus, after discovering the ugly truth of consequences; he resolved he was going to bring some good into the world; using any and all means that he had at his disposal.  

In this small manner he managed to shine a little light into some dark places. Also, he never stopped. He never tired. He went from one war zone to the next; always volunteering to help the kids and teach. 

As we can all appreciate , there never was a shortage of work. The world back then was as it is today; nasty, short and brutish . So over the years he saw all sides of humanity. He didn't shy away. In fact, thanks to a UN sponsorship, he earned a psychology degree. He decided to focus on counselling. He took on a new mission. Not just to help people with their future skill sets; but also to assist them on the road to healing.

Last spring he got the call, his father had passed. His mum was suffering with the onset of dementia; and in order to let lil Sis keep living her best life in Mexico, the prodigal son returned home. 

He took a sabbatical from all his other work and focused on her. He grew really fond of his mum in her last years. They reminisced so much. Once he asked her if she remembered when that father had killed his son. 

"What darling?"

"Do you remember when that migrant father murdered his boy."

"I recall you was quiet love. You were always such a sensitive lad. Sometimes a complete tosser." 

They both chuckled; exchanging meaningful glances. 

"You can't save 'em all Sam, but you can be a light."

He kissed the top of her head and carried her up to bed.

*****

He put his coffee cup down, answered the call and said warmly and gently into his headset :

"Hi there, you've reached Sam at suicide prevention, I'm here to listen. Why don't you just start by telling me your name?"