The Hate Collective by James Powell (top young adult novels .txt) đ
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- Author: James Powell
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âYours is a perfectly normal responseâ, said Brenda calmly. âSeveral of us here have experienced exactly the same thingâ. Some solemn nods around the circle confirmed this.
âDonât forget Michael, that you have been through a very traumatic experience that will take a long time to get over. Iâm glad that you felt so good after our last meeting, even though it was only temporary, and I want to stress that as time goes on, these periods of happiness will last longer and longer until you eventually forget whatever was making you miserable in the first place. And I know it might seem impossible now, but the old clichĂ© is true. Time really is a healer. Things will inevitably improve, and I hope that talking to people here will accelerate this process, as well as help you to realise that you are not alone, and that everyone in this room wants the best for you. Donât try to rush things. Recovery will come naturally.â
Michael nodded. âThanks again for listening. It really does make a differenceâ. His voice cracked slightly while saying this, revealing just how vulnerable he was feeling, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions in check.
âSoâ, said Brenda, pleased with her work so far. âHow has everybody else been feeling? Who would like to speak first?â The man opposite Michael raised his hand. âYes Stephen. How have you been recently?â The man looked menacing, with his shaved head and intimidating tribal tattoos that are so popular these days, but when he opened his mouth, a softer side emerged, although the fury was still obvious.
âSome absolute fucker stole my car last week.â
âI have to interrupt you there Stephen because that kind of language is not appropriate here, so I need you to calm down. Please carry onâ.
This gentle, but forceful telling off didnât seem to bother Steve much, but he apologised and continued.
âI took my girlfriend out for a meal in town last week, you know, to try and get her out of the house for a change. It took a couple of days to persuade her, but she eventually agreed to come with me. She looked great that night, all dressed up. It was almost like nothing had happened, which made me think that it was still possible that one day she might return to her old self. The medication hasnât worked. Itâs actually made things worse, with all the side effects and mood swings. Sheâd be better off without the pills.â. He was angry, but composed himself and continued the story.
âAnyway, it was a good night, and for the first time in weeks we had a proper conversation. Normally itâs like talking to someone through a sheet of ice, but that night was different, and I could see glimpses of the person she used to be.â He paused again, obviously lost in memories of the good old days, before regaining his train of thought and carrying on.
âSo we left the restaurant at about eleven, and went to the car, which Iâd parked just off the main road, only to find that some heartless bastard had stolen it. This of course meant hours wasted on the phone to the insurance companies and hours wasted on the phone to the police, who gave me the usual speech about how they would do everything possible to find the vehicle, not that they expected to recover it because it was probably joyriders who would have wrecked it afterwards because itâs only a cheap car. Now I know the insurance will pay out, and I know nobody got hurt, but itâs a massive inconvenience, and just another reminder to Jenny of what a fucking terrible place the world is. As if she hasnât suffered enough. She was in tears, almost hysterical. God know what thatâs done for her recovery. And of course, Iâm the bad guy again for taking her on such a disastrous night outâ. He sighed. âSo thatâs whatâs happened in my life recently. Thanks for listening.â
Brenda was frustrated, but accepted that it was virtually impossible to stop someone so wound up from swearing. âAnd howâs Daisy been?â, she asked tentatively.
âSame as ever really. No change. Still, at least she isnât getting any worseâ, he said abruptly, signalling that he didnât want to discuss it any further.
âDoes anyone else have anything to say?â, asked Brenda, taking the hint. âTony?â.
âYeah, I agree with you, Steve mate. My cousin saved up for ages and bought himself a second hand Alfa. Six weeks later it was stolen. Turned up in the middle of nowhere, a total write off. Itâs a fucking disgrace, and if I was prime minister, Iâd deport the fuckers. I mean, I can understand someone stealing to put food on the table, but what kind of person takes something just for the hell of it? And why smash the car after? Whatâs the point? Thereâs no need for that. Disgusting.â
The group seemed to be in agreement, riled by this speech, especially since it came from Tony, a man who very rarely lost his temper during therapy, someone who usually seemed quite calm about things. But before the session descended into chaos and turned into a rant against the government, the police, society and the world in general, Brenda had the foresight to steer the conversation in a different direction, which calmed the collective temper somewhat. And so half an hour later, after discussing various relaxation techniques which could be employed in stressful situations, the evening was brought to a close without any further outbursts, much to Brendaâs relief.
Michael felt good, but remained unconvinced as to whether or not positive thinking, deep breathing and all the other weird and wonderful coping mechanisms would be of any use. It was all a bit touchy-feely for his liking. He wondered if a dose of tough love wouldnât have been a better option, before remembering how crushed he was when his friends told him to forget about the incident and just get on with it. Maybe a few deep breaths really would help when he was feeling down. It had to be worth a try.
Meanwhile, he went to make himself a disgusting cup of instant coffee and see if he could get to know people better, now that he felt a bit more comfortable after a second meeting. Joan approached him while he was pouring the milk.
âSo you decided to stay this week then?â Michael was flattered that she had even thought about talking to him, and answered enthusiastically.
âYeah. Things were a lot easier this time. Thanks for listening.â
âNo problemâ, she said smiling. âThatâs what we do here. That, and complaining!â Michael laughed.
âMaybe, but itâs nice to complain and have people listen for a change.â
As he was talking, Michael couldnât help notice how much different she looked this time, no longer the exhausted, rushed mother of the previous week, but a classy glamorous woman who was dressed up for a big night out somewhere elegant and exclusive. Her blonde hair was shorter and neater and probably cost a small fortune at some fashionable salon, run by the beautiful people for the beautiful people. Hopelessly shallow. And despite knowing nothing about fashion, he was well aware how expensive her clothes were, especially the brown leather jacket she was wearing, a big step up from the tracksuit she had on the last time they spoke. And to finish the look, a sparkling pair of earrings, which made her look incredibly overdressed for a group meeting.
âAre you going out tonight then?â, asked Michael.
âNo why?â, Joan replied, knowing exactly why he had asked that question, pleased that her efforts had not gone unnoticed, although it was virtually impossible to ignore. Not waiting for an answer, she continued.
âI was rushed off my feet last time. My babysitter cancelled at the last minute, and when I finally managed to find a replacement, I had to leave straight away to come here, so I didnât really have any time to smarten up. Iâm not normally that stressed either, in fact, Iâm usually quite a calm person, just one whoâs a little bit obsessive when it comes to punctuality. I canât stand being late for anything, knowing that people are waiting for me. Iâm not mental thoughâ, she added, laughing.
âNo, Iâm a bit like that too. Iâm always turning up for work early, usually by about twenty minutes. Itâs ridiculous really. I mean, itâs not as if things will grind to a halt at the office if Iâm a bit late is it? And considering the number of days I turn up before everybody else, they should be paying me extra, or at the very least, promoting me for my enthusiasm.â
âSo what do you do then?â
âOh, nothing particularly interestingâ, Michael replied, realising that life at the office was not the most exciting topic of conversation. âI work for a company that does data analysis for other businesses. Letâs say a company is struggling, and doesnât know what to do next. They come to us, and we look at their figures and business model and make our recommendations accordingly. Tell them what theyâre doing wrong, and what they can do to turn things around. It can get quite technical sometimes, you know, statistical projections, demographics, that kind of thing. Most of the time, our advice works pretty well, so weâve had quite a few bigger businesses asking for our help, and theyâre the ones we can make the most money from. Anyway, itâs not the most spectacular job in the world, but it suits me fine. What about you?â
âOh, Iâm a single mum. Iâve got a six year old boy, Jack, and just keeping up with him is a full time job.â Normally she would have stopped there, but for some reason, she felt more comfortable around Michael, more at ease and more inclined to open up and tell the full story. âMy husband left me a couple of years ago for another woman. Apparently, all I was good for was giving him a child, and itâs not as if he even comes to visit us that often. Spends most of his time with her instead. Anyway, at least he was rich, so I have my own house, and the child maintenance means that I can afford to be a full time parent without constantly worrying about money.â She sighed deeply. âWhen I married him it was supposed to be forever. I meant it. He didnât.â
âIâm sorry to hear that.â
âDonât beâ, she said forcefully.
Joan had never needed anyoneâs sympathy, especially when her marriage broke down. She was a strong person who decided to get on with being the best mother possible, rather than spending time wallowing in self pity.
âIâm better off out of that relationship. He changed after we got married. He seemed to think that because he was out
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