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Michael (1) City Living

That is the thing about this city, it draws you in. There is inevitably always something going on. From loud music and arguments, inquisitive tourists, or locals going about their everyday lives. It sucks you in, and makes you feel at home. At whatever time of day or night there is always something to make you stop and think. The sense of community is incredible, all around are people that have known you their entire lives. There are no secrets, the locals probably know you better than you know yourself. That can prove dangerous knowledge in the wrong hands though.

Michael Phillips wandered home just his thoughts to keep him company. He was bushed, it had been a long day. All he wanted was five minutes to himself and a large dose of caffeine. He enjoyed his job in the supermarket, although it was only until he got his break in journalism. He also liked the vibrance of where he lived, so much experience and knowledge of life. But he also was aware that he needed Michael time, everyone needs to be individual. Putting his key in his flat door he groaned, he had remembered the pile of dirty pots in the sink. Was there a clean cup…Michael doubted it? He put his shopping on the kitchen floor and made a start. He hummed as he made a start and, in a few minutes, the washing up was done, shopping put away, and extra-large mug of beautiful smelling coffee safely in his hands. He checked his emails and gave a sigh; he had long given up any hope of being an astronaut or male model. But surely someone out there wanted fresh imagination and flair. Or even a report on the local fete or the children’s sports day, he really did not care. Maybe it was worth considering something else, the supermarket had mentioned management training courses. It was not what he intended or had promised Rosie but needs must. Having demolished half a pizza Michael’s thoughts turned to the rest of the day. There were only so many repeats of “Only Fools and Horses” a man could take. So, after a quick shower and a clean shirt (after all you do not know who you might meet), he set off to see his parents. It was only a twenty-minute walk so why bother with a bus?

Walking down by the canal thoughts soon turned to happier times, not so long ago. That is the thing about this city Michael told himself to many ghosts. Everywhere you turned, everything you did, it was like being stalked by your past. He could not even eat an ice cream anymore, he always bought two. Was it force of habit? Or just wishful thinking. Or his conscience rearing its ugly head again.

“Come on Michael” he muttered to himself “this is not helping at all”. He continued along the path and arrived at his parents armed with flowers. He gave the door a good thump. Deaf as posts the pair of them he smiled to himself. His mother appeared at the door with the biggest smile imaginable, Michael could swear blind even the dog was smiling. Ten minutes later sat in front of a roaring fire, with tea, and hot homemade scones he felt a sense of happiness and belonging. Michael was at heart a family person nothing wrong with that he often told himself. His Dad lowered his paper and lit a pipe, not many people smoked pipes nowadays, but Michael found the smell distinctive and homely. His memory recalled past Christmases, beautiful Sunday roasts and the look and smell of his Dad’s garden in full bloom. As his Mum sat next to him the inevitable inquisition began. Why is it a visit to your parents always felt like an interview? Maybe it was his own fault for leaving it to long between visits. His parents were masters at the game, always leaving a suitable gap when they wanted extra information. Throwing in leading questions and contributing a smile or and I see in the right place. Michael found it very exhausting, he often stopped short of suggesting they needed to get out more. An hour was about all his nerves could stand before he made his excuses and started home. He loved his Mum and Dad, but it was all so claustrophobic. He really must make more of an effort, they were lonely he realised that.

He made his way home the same way he had come. But already it felt different, not so many Dads with pushchairs or kids playing football, more laughing and voices of revellers and the sound of heavy traffic. It was getting dark and any one not used to the overall atmosphere would be wary, Michael had seen it all a million times. A city needed a mixture of lives, that is what made it special. He rolled his eyes as two police cars lights flashing went speeding past, did people never learn. He hoped he was wrong, but he sometimes wondered if it was how they got their kicks. It was there way of trying to find a place in society. It occurred to Michael that there was a much stronger police presence tonight, two even walked past and said hello. Michael had nothing to hide but he wished the police would not speak, people around here soon got the wrong idea. It was best to keep your head down and yourself to yourself.

 Suddenly he heard shouting and people running away. Chaos was breaking out. This was wrong and he wanted no part of it. Another few seconds, another couple of steps and he would find himself sucked in. Michael jumped over a low wall and crouched down, he managed to look over the top and get a view. A fifth sense told him that he needed to know everything, he had to look after no1. He saw a youth riding away on a bike. As he rode away, he threw something into the overgrown mass of a garden that belonged to a long abandoned derelict house. The youth on the bike took no working out, Michael knew him instantly. They had gone to school together; he was a couple of years younger than Michael, but it was fair to say their paths had crossed on a couple of occasions.

It had all gone quiet Michael needed to get home. He needed space and time to think. Taking no chances, he made his way to the main road and walked home that way. It was to dark and far too dangerous near the canal. He sat up for a couple of hours making notes and trying to make sense of everything. He fell asleep in the chair when he awoke it was half past seven. His young active mind sprang into action, first thing to do was phone work. They could manage for one day he had other things to worry about. That done he sat with the obligatory mug of coffee and gazed into space. His head was telling him to forget about it and stay safe. However, his heart was telling him that it was far to serious to ignore. Michael needed some fresh air, clear his head, and get the blood pumping. Walking down the road the young man stopped in his tracks. The local newspaper carried the headline, POLICEMAN STABBED TO DEATH. Buying a newspaper Michael ran home quicker than he ever had. He was physically sick at least twice. He had seen everything he even had it all written own. He knew where the knife was, and who put it there. Jesus Christ this was his home, he had grown up here. He was supposed to be safe. If he kept quiet, he could end up in jail, say anything and he could end up dead. What was the Michael wondered a man or a mouse? He spent the rest of the day in a daze, but he realised he had no choice. He would never forgive himself if he did not do the right thing. As he walked into the police station with his notebook, he felt lost, lonely, anAd scared. The next two or three hours were the hardest of Michael’s young life. Question after Question, statement after statement it was horrendous. Eventually joy at last the nightmare was over they had found the knife. It was time to go home.

But the nightmare had hardly started. The next step was they wanted Michael to take part in an identity line up. They wanted him to point out the youth on the bike. It was at this point the full realisation of what he was doing hit him. There was no turning back, but his life as he had known it was over. He knew the family of the boy on the bike. They were dangerous people and grassing on one of them was probably the last thing he would do. There was no question they would find out it was Michael. But it was the right thing to do. Michael asked for a break he needed to sort his head out. There was no way he was appearing in court that was an absolute non-starter. What about his family would they be safe? This was his home it was where his friends were, he had grown up here. Despite everything he loved the place.  But it was time to be a man, he had bottled it last time, and he would regret that every day!! One life was much the same as another, four walls looked pretty much the same from any viewpoint.

Michael spoke to the police. He told them about his court decision, and they assured him that they would not need him if he was prepared to give evidence. Oh, I can do better than that Michael explained. He took a drink of water and told himself.

 “This is for you Rosie”. It is not the first time they have used guns. The robbery at the book makers last year it was them. I know because my girlfriend worked next door. She saw everything. We were both to terrified to say anything. Because I never protected her, she was threatened and ran away God knows where. They never knew about Rosie and me, so I got away with it. If you do not need me anymore then I am going straight home, pack a bag and I am out of here. They will find me, so the rest of my life is going to be spent trusting no one. That is one hell of a package to carry but it is what I should have done first time. This is for Rosie.

Six months later Four men were convicted of a string of offences. Michael gave a wry smile; they had ruined his life. But he promised himself one day I will go home. Home is in the blood., that is the thing about this city.