The Hate Collective, James Powell [drm ebook reader .TXT] 📗

just seemed like a dim and distant memory. Almost forgotten. Almost non existent. The people at work even said I was looking well, and they had no idea what had happened to me. After a couple of days I even started to think that maybe I had finally moved on and could start living a normal life again. However, it wasn’t long before I was back at square one again, depressed and deflated, desperate to come here for another meeting. It’s my own fault really. I was naïve enough to think that one session would change everything and make the problem disappear. The rational part of my brain knew that I would need regular therapy, but I felt so good that night, that I dared to hope. Dared to think that I was OK. Cured. But as usual, the rational side was right, so here I am again. I need your help.’
‘Yours is a perfectly normal response’, said Brenda calmly. ‘Several of us here have experienced exactly the same thing’. Some solemn nods around the circle confirmed this.
‘Don’t forget Michael, that you have been through a very traumatic experience that will take a long time to get over. I’m 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 cliché 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. Don’t try to rush things. Recovery will come naturally.’
Michael nodded. ‘Thanks again for listening. It really does make a difference’. His voice cracked slightly while saying this, revealing just how vulnerable he was feeling, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions in check.
‘So’, said Brenda, pleased with her work so far. ‘How has everybody else been feeling? Who would like to speak first?’ The man opposite Michael raised his hand. ‘Yes Stephen. How have you been recently?’ 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.
‘Some absolute fucker stole my car last week.’
‘I have to interrupt you there Stephen because that kind of language is not appropriate here, so I need you to calm down. Please carry on’.
This gentle, but forceful telling off didn’t seem to bother Steve much, but he apologised and continued.
‘I 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 hasn’t worked. It’s actually made things worse, with all the side effects and mood swings. She’d be better off without the pills.’. He was angry, but composed himself and continued the story.
‘Anyway, it was a good night, and for the first time in weeks we had a proper conversation. Normally it’s 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.’ He paused again, obviously lost in memories of the good old days, before regaining his train of thought and carrying on.
‘So we left the restaurant at about eleven, and went to the car, which I’d 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 it’s only a cheap car. Now I know the insurance will pay out, and I know nobody got hurt, but it’s a massive inconvenience, and just another reminder to Jenny of what a fucking terrible place the world is. As if she hasn’t suffered enough. She was in tears, almost hysterical. God know what that’s done for her recovery. And of course, I’m the bad guy again for taking her on such a disastrous night out’. He sighed. ‘So that’s what’s happened in my life recently. Thanks for listening.’
Brenda was frustrated, but accepted that it was virtually impossible to stop someone so wound up from swearing. ‘And how’s Daisy been?’, she asked tentatively.
‘Same as ever really. No change. Still, at least she isn’t getting any worse’, he said abruptly, signalling that he didn’t want to discuss it any further.
‘Does anyone else have anything to say?’, asked Brenda, taking the hint. ‘Tony?’.
‘Yeah, 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. It’s a fucking disgrace, and if I was prime minister, I’d 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? What’s the point? There’s no need for that. Disgusting.’
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 Brenda’s 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 wouldn’t 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.
‘So you decided to stay this week then?’ Michael was flattered that she had even thought about talking to him, and answered enthusiastically.
‘Yeah. Things were a lot easier this time. Thanks for listening.’
‘No problem’, she said smiling. ‘That’s what we do here. That, and complaining!’ Michael laughed.
‘Maybe, but it’s nice to complain and have people listen for a change.’
As he was talking, Michael couldn’t 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.
‘Are you going out tonight then?’, asked Michael.
‘No why?’, 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.
‘I 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 didn’t really have any time to smarten up. I’m not normally that stressed either, in fact, I’m usually quite a calm person, just one who’s a little bit obsessive when it comes to punctuality. I can’t stand being late for anything, knowing that people are waiting for me. I’m not mental though’, she added, laughing.
‘No, I’m a bit like that too. I’m always turning up for work early, usually by about twenty minutes. It’s ridiculous really. I mean, it’s not as if things will grind to a halt at the office if I’m 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.’
‘So what do you do then?’
‘Oh, nothing particularly interesting’, Michael replied, realising that life at the office was not the most exciting topic of conversation. ‘I work for a company that does data analysis for other businesses. Let’s say a company is struggling, and doesn’t 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 they’re 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 we’ve had quite a few bigger businesses asking for our help, and they’re the ones we can make the most money from. Anyway, it’s not the most spectacular job in the world, but it suits me fine. What about you?’
‘Oh, I’m a single mum. I’ve got a six year old boy, Jack, and just keeping up with him is a full time job.’ 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. ‘My husband left me a couple of years ago for another woman. Apparently, all I was good for was giving him a child, and it’s 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.’ She sighed deeply. ‘When I married him it was supposed to be forever. I meant it. He didn’t.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Don’t be’, she said forcefully.
Joan had never needed anyone’s 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.
‘I’m better off out of that relationship. He changed after we got married. He seemed to think that because he was out