LOVE ME HATE ME PLEASE DON'T IGNORE ME

The clock chimed ten; I was preparing for bed. No sooner was the chime count in my conscious mind the telephone rang: a call I was half expecting. It was brief, perfunctory, and stated what I thought would happen. Instead of bed I put the kettle on, took out the whisky, intending to add a little to the tea. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I realised the chapter so briefly reopened, was closing. I was surprised at my reaction.

It was a bright spring morning and I was on my daily constitutional. I stopped at the busy corner of the street where I lived waiting for the traffic lights to change. The mechanism was sluggish but I was in no hurry. Someone else was though; a motorcyclist, complete with his own agenda, was travelling at the speed of lightening down the said street, intent on going through the lights before the change. Though the cyclist was fast he was not fast enough; the lights changed and he crashed into an oncoming vehicle. His much-loved bike even to my untrained eye was a right off, the driver having flown in the air upon impact: landed on the corner kerb, it was neither a pretty sight, nor sound. The other driver parked his car, and heedless of other oncoming traffic ran to the injured man. I felt I had no choice but to go too.

It was clear he was in pain; he said he could not move. I froze, not because of squeamishness, but the sound of his voice. Fortunately, the other driver took particulars, and called for an ambulance; however, unfortunately, he had a pressing engagement for which he was already late, would I mind holding onto his business card in case the police wanted a statement? I agreed saying, I was happy to stay giving the other driver my card in exchange. Oh, if it were only a statement required.

I looked at the injured man, my nemeses from my school days: ‘Titch’ Young, real name Robert. I could not believe that he would now be needing me, he who often appeared to need no one. I eased his helmet off, placing my jacket under his head. He looked at me gratefully, then it seemed he recognised me. I took his hand by way of comfort, wondering how long it would take before help arrived. He fell into a troubled sleep, I went back a number of years: I’m not telling you how many, you would work my age out and that is a secret.

“Hi my name is Robert, but I get called Titch.” He was indeed small in stature, I responded and we chatted for a while. It was a few moments later I noticed my ruler was missing; the plastic ruler with 'Laura' imprinted on it. I was the only one by that name in the class. Annoyed I told Dad, and the next day there was a new one different colour, but the same kind of ruler. Good old Dad.

A few days later Titch was talking to another girl, and at lunchtime, she discovered her purse had gone  She was in tears, she was hungry, but my Mum always packed an extra sandwich in case I felt hungry, Ivy got my extra sandwich that day I gained a long term friend in Ivy, and in remembering, thought briefly of our next meeting. Eventually, Titch was in trouble for stealing. There was no apology, just a shrug of his shoulders. Titch was sad, but not remorseful. His look seemed to say “Love me or hate me, just please don’t ignore me.” I was too young then to appreciate what was happening, or was not happening in Titch’s life.

Titch loved plants. The cleaner lived across the road from the school; Titch helped him in the garden, he was at peace there. He had dreams of being a gardener. He was not much of a scholar, but not everyone is born to be a genius. Titch’s knowledge of plants for a kid was admirable. Me? I knew the difference between a petunia and a rose and that was it; Mum was forever telling me to pull out the weeds, not the seeds!

Where was this blanky ambulance? Titch stirred, looked at me, seemed to recognise me and winced. I dared not give him anything. I rang the emergency number again, explaining that the accident had been reported. I got a feeble explanation for the delay. If I were not in a panic, it would seem a feasible explanation, but I was alone with a sick man.

“I’m sorry Ma’am can you give me the details again? There has been a fire in …”

“Yes, so you said, but this man is in pain,  I am on my own with him, he’s a stranger to me.”

Titch was awake and though it pained him smiled at the statement.

“I’m…in…pain.” he also could hardly breathe “no stranger.”

“Is there anyone I should call?”

“Only Jenn,” deep breath “my sister, remember?” he pointed to his pocket “phone.”

Retrieving his phone, I noted the number down and rang it from my mobile just as the ambulance siren could be heard, and in typical efficiency, the ambos got to work.

“Hello, Jennifer Young speaking,” I told her who I was and the situation, taking care to place the call on speaker so Titch and the officers could hear.

“Oh my God, I knew it would happen. Where is he; which hospital?” I asked the ambo closest, then answered Jenn’s question, just as Titch went into a seizure. He called to me

“Laura”

I’m here Robert.” he smiled

“You …remembered.” he gasped “official name.” he winced again.

I went with him to the hospital. On the way, he took another seizure. I only had to hold his hand; those who knew how dealt with the problem.

Oh, the incessant teasing, the meeting in the public library where Dad witnessed Titch fly off the handle, and threatened to report him, The sad look on the young boy’s face, was he crying out for love?

Jenn was at emergency. She had not changed. Tall slim, caring. He had X-rays, ribs broken, and evidence of a head injury. Would Jenn as next of kin agree to surgery? I stayed a little longer.

“Don’t leave me Titch.” she cried. I put my arms around her “Laura what the hell will I do without him?” I sat there unable to say anything.

“I looked after him when we were kids Mum and Dad were always o… at work.”

Then it hit me; they were gamblers; those kids were starved of affection, they only had each other.

The call was from Jenn, Titch had passed away. I knew what I had to do; look after Jenn. I had long since forgiven Titch Young, and he died too young. Jenn and I got on reasonably well. I may as well ring her now she would not be sleeping, not in the early stages of grief. I picked up the phone and waited for an acknowledgement.

“Laura, I’m on my way over, I can’t face an empty house, or...”

“Good idea Jenn, “I said, “I’ll put the kettle on.”