Freedom

​

He had stopped listening. Molly hadnt stopped talking though. Normally the years of practice of throwing an appropriately timed nod, the odd really or noise to reflect shock or agreement had perfected the image of one paying attention. This time though was different though, his mind did not hear a word Molly poured out.

Twenty-four years. The last nineteen or so spent waiting for this moment. He wasnt wondering whether it would come, that was a given, just when. Its anticipation ruining peaceful moments; lying in bed on a Sunday morning, sneaking its way into entertaining dinner parties causing him to clam up as Molly would say. Expecting its dreaded shoulder tap, excuse me, its me your past, your worst nightmare. Why youve been trying to avoid me you old devil! Come on let pull up a chair and reminisce. What have we here, is this your wife Joe? Eighteen years, really and such cute kids. Six and Twelve? Well that is a co-incidence isnt it! As you were about twelve when.

Molly had stopped talking and now had lowered her head, resting it in her cupped hand supported with her elbow on the table. Her red hair, flopped over her left eye but both still stared at her husband. Joe, Joe. Joseph! His formal name always too him by surprise, as if his mother had risen from her premature death. For gods sake whats going on, youve been staring into space for about two ruddy minutes! He refocused on the family act being performed around the table. Mollys green eyes fixed on his, years of concern and anxiety flowing out through the stare, the silent kids colouring their books always so silent. He spoke slowly and with meaning. What do you mean lets go Joe? The kids ices havent even arrived! Jesus Joe, thats the treat weve promised them since we arrived on this ruddy holiday. The kids had stopped colouring and young Sam was on the verge of tears. She didnt even know what a knickerblockerglory was but was old enough to know that if her big brother wanted one so badly, it was important to be included. She did however know that these type of conversations mummy and daddy had meant tears and an early night. Her face had turned a lighter shade as if the red colouring pencil in her hand had drained her cheeks whilst filling in the carefully completed letterbox in her book. Their mother continued, look if you feel so light-headed Joe, go and splash some water on your face or stand in the diner car-park, just dont do this to the kids. The creases across her forehead resembled a ploughed field. A field planted with the seeds of sadness. He looked at her and despite their now continual existence; they took Joes attention, as if he was looking for a miniature scarecrow that wouldnt look out of place. Im fine now, lets just eat the ices when they get here, drink up and then we can all go walk down on the promenade. Dusty resumed drawing, one ear now loitering in his parents conversation. Sam followed her brothers lead, believing her ice-cream was safe but not so sure about the tears.

Joe studied his hands, the hands of a criminal; a selfish and heartless man. Or should that be boy? Molly had relaxed slightly buying the story of lighted headedness. This was confirmed when she launched into a ten minute critique of different types of toaster and this time Joe the bit actor in these plays remembered his lines, his nods and his odd question to keep Mollys suspicions from demanding its money back. Or so Joe had thought as he soon realised Molly had stopped talking again. This time she leaned close into Joe and spoke without moving her lips too much, Dont look up, but the man to your right, the one in the red and white chequered shirt and shoestring tie. Joes heart felt like it was setting in cement. He knew who Molly was referring too and didnt need the running commentary, still Molly provided it. Ruddy hell, hes coming over, the corner of her mouth said. Joe felt faint, like the time he broke his leg fixing the guttering. Out of his peripheral vision he could feel his past approach, there was no mistaking his past was approaching the table to introduce itself as Bobby Clarkston.

Joe, Joe Maslin? Bobby enquired. Joe remained silent, staring into he mirror of guilt that Bobbys eyes offered. He remained stationary, despite Bobbys outstretched hand waiting to complete the link of past to present. Stationary expect the move of his leg as it encountered Mollys kick. Molly broke the awkwardness that the Joes silence had created. You know Joe! What a co-incidence, here we are over 3,000 miles from home and we meets someone we know! Joe, how do you know each other? Molly enquired with her words and her kicks. Im Molly, Mrs Molly Maslin and this here is our kids Sam and Dusty. Eventually Joe spoke and half-stood to complete the handshake, Our children Bobby - how are you? Did you have children Bobby? Bobby had caught the silent bug from Joes hand. Molly looked from one silent man to another. My lord, I have absolutely no idea what has gotten into you tonight Joe, wheres your Connecticut manners! Come Bobby, collect your family and come join us, we have just ordered ices and coffee. Im just dying to know how you two know one another, imagine meeting in ruddy Kansas! Honestly, you go camping for a week, the kids have been playing up, well theyve been reasonably good actually, anyway we have been sort of promising them a knickerblockerglory if they behave, she lowered her ramble to a whisper and pronounced each of the next words with exaggerated pronunciation, more like bribing actually!.... No kids Bobby replied over the top of Molly before turning to collect his wife. As he strode off to his table, already signalling his wife to put her jacket on, Molly seized her moment, Ruddy hell Joe, who on earth is this man, he seems like one hell of a strange fellow! How do you know him?

It had been Joe who had found her. Bobby was always slightly behind Joe. His second shadow as Joes mum used to tease, but more reliable than his first as he was there for Joe day or night. They were typical boys, slightly bolder and slightly more crimes than the normal kid but not anywhere near the Jocelyn brothers or Tommy Sheldon, shot-gun Sheldon. They had lived one street apart but that one street meant a great deal to the parents if not the children. It meant that Joe lived on the sought-after Broadmeadows, whilst Bobby was in the Strawberry Estate. Still neither parent had objected to the friendships and on the very rare occasion that the parents had met, the atmosphere was amicable and all left comfortable in their sons choice of best friend.

The day it happened, right up until the moment it happened had been pretty enjoyable day. The highlight had been when Suzie Currie had accidentally shown her bra to everyone when she got her top caught in a branch on the rope-swing path. The day had drifted on and they had went to Bobbys house for some cheese sandwiches and orange squash around two. Joe was sitting on the floor playing with a few cars, trying to scrape the sticker off of a mustang after re-arranging the order of the cars on the track, when Joe had re-appeared from the bathroom announcing that they were going out to his mum. Joe, no more than a little surprised that the car race was over. Once outside and round the corner Bobby showed that the day had taken a turn for the better in terms of excitement and potential. The sun-rays flashed off three dollar coins, and despite there being a full two years before he would graduate to stealing notes from his mothers purse, this was a major step up from the one dollar limit life had set for him until today. Joe matched Bobby for smiles and excitement, both knowing this meant a full set of miniature soldiers would be added to their war. There was no need to discuss what the money would be spent on, soldiers, baseball cards and if anything was left some bubble-gums. After much deliberation, a set of Confederation 5th army battalion had been bought, and a major bike ride was now underway to get the den and begin another battle. Their stash of soldiers lived in one of the dirt holes marked with lollipop sticks in the secret code that only they knew. This was the only home from them after that terrifying afternoon when Joes mum had started asking where all the soldiers had came from and alluded to mentioning to Bobbys mum how lucky a boy he was to get such generous birthday presents.

As they reached the trail to their den, they had left their bikes in the same place, enough distance from the track that no-one would follow and as always they had covered them with the branches just to be safe the staple hiding technique of a thirteen year old who had advanced from lying it down in long grass.
If it had been Bobby that found her maybe it would have all turned out differently, but it had been Joe that found her. Joe was the eldest , by a full 8 months which to thirteen year olds is as wide a gap as only children, the media and at that specific age the courts would recognise (and make feel like six years.) Joe still remembered it clearly, despite the new purchase, he had had an urge in his stomach or more accurately somewhere between his stomach and his balls, that he had to go and look at the secrete dirty pictures they stored round the back of the den. It had been Joe that had insisted they keep them out the den so that if the word got out on the pictures it meant the den was safe. Those crumpled dirty pictures filling two holes in the ground.

Bobby had returned introducing his wife Marge before sitting at the seats Joe had already pulled up. Marge was a slight lady with a flat lipless mouth (that seemed to move up and down as if the edges were attached to strings operated by Bobbys temperament.) Bobby spent the first ten minutes like a chat show guest on the Marge and Molly show. He covered the bond of their childhood, how they had moved away from Bobby was fourteen. He skipped the part of the fact that they rarely spent any time in each others company for the last year before Bobby had moved, the continual questioning of their parents on why this was, did they have a fight, fearful offers to go and speak to the others parents to check if everything was alright. Joes kids had even put down their pencils, Dusty in particular very curious to hear what his dad had been like at his age, displaying that childlike characteristic of having no interest in their parents as they are now but amazed by the mystery of the past like studying the old wedding photograph of their grandparents. Bobby and Marge, or more accurately Marge had whisked them through a summary of where they lived, what they done and why they were in the diner. Clearly the ladies had hit it off. Molly was almost enjoying herself, although still impersonating a magicians final act, with the daggers she threw in the almost silent Joes direction.

Joe was caught in the middle of daggers, awkward gazes from Bobby and random kicks combined with flashbacks of the blueness of the girls face matching her raised t-shirt. He now genuinely felt dizzy but knew he had to snap out of it. So Madge, how did you meet was as good as he could conjure up much to Mollys relief. Madges mouth was like a powder keg and this was the match she needed to ignite, ...sitting with the girls...in the dizzy rooms, ladies night every Thursday...it was actually Cathy who noticed him first...all the others already dancing....he says it took him three bourbons to get the courage... The kids soon got bored, this was clearly adult conversations and there were ice-cream bowls to lick and lines to accidentally draw outside but Madge was on a roll, the dress, well thats another story...what a party...its safe to say, we just see them at Christmas now.. no, no kids, Bobby didnt want any... Joe looked down as he knew Bobby was trying to catch his eye. ...no we basically have done nothing with our lives, in fact it has been a complete waste of breath and time, but I can gossip for the U, S of A Madge announced or more so that is what she should have been saying. The ladies leaned in, and the conversation moved onto nail-polish signalling an acceptable exit point for all men.

Joe felt Bobby nudging closer, his bulky figure dwarfing the wooden seat. I see you have kids though. It wasnt quite a whisper but clearly was not for the others to hear. There was not much danger under the shrieks of their wives and the jukebox tunes. I just couldnt...couldnt face children, you know? Bobby stopped but Joe knew. For fucks sake Bobby of course I do Joe replied. He had kept his voice down but his quick jerk of the head to look directly at Bobby for the first time, to face the past, the truth and now possibly even the future had alerted Molly. Molly the detective always solving crimes and planting evidence in the city of Joeisguilty. Major crimes like who didnt close the fly screen, who drank the whiskey down below her pen mark, who used the wrong towel. Joe was regularly under arrest for misuse of crumbs, abuse of an under watered plant, having an unlicensed finger for use of picking his nose etc. Joe quickly smiled at Bobby to throw Molly off the trail and shuffled his seat 30 degrees so Molly was out of the line of fire.

To begin Joe had an overbearing urge to confess, to admit their guilt. If only someone would ask. Mum, a teacher, the police, even dad. To begin it was al over the news. Cynthia Clean. He had nearly admitted all nine years ago when Molly had suggested Cynthia as a name for Sam. Clean was an unfortunate surname as it was a word used far too often in peoples innocent vocabulary for his minds sanity. Clean your plate, when will you Clean your room, each time he heard the word, it could entice that solitary drop of blood out of Cynthia Cleans still mouth. Clean equals dead equals dead child equals dead scared. Come clean.

Neither Joe nor Bobby had anything to do with her death or how her body ended up in the woods but perspective is not something a child is good at putting situations into. Life and experience allow humans to know how to quantify risks, issues and opportunities and appreciate how these lie in the bigger picture. A kid however cannot always understand that steeling money from mummys purse and being caught with pictures of pussy hair and floppy cocks are not near as important as saying we found a dead little girl. The longer the boys didnt admit it, the more they felt responsible and the higher in their body the fear travelled until it was around their throat chocking the words from escaping their mouth until it reaches and overpowers the brain when the news mentions the missing girl.

As the years went on Joes fear moved to a fear of factors out of his control. Aka Bobby, the forest being flattened for a housing project, a curious dog. A realization that you will never really fully relax. Christ, all their notes were still buried nearby, the remainders of their games soldiers patiently waiting years to do battle for Sergeant Bobby, leader of the secret mums purse army. Joe spent many days wondering what Bobby was doing, whether he thought of it and if it had taken over his life as much as it had Joes. Had he spent many hours reflecting on whether it was fair to feel so guilty for a crime they did not commit then he remembered that they had hidden her so much deeper in the bushes. If they hadnt surely she would have been found, her family would be able to bury their eldest daughter, experience some sort of closure. Instead they had buried her, covered her with more branches than their bikes had experienced in a month and then made their pact. A pact that brought them closer together yet had pushed them apart forever. Forever until one coincidental meal in a random diner in Kansas

Now he knew Bobby had been tortured through life just as he had. I dont want to talk about it Bobby, I mean it, just lets leave it, please Joe spoke from his heart.
The kids saved the situation by running out of pages in their book and it seemed like a natural time for the ladies to stop chattering as they were once again aware of the silence asides their corner of the table. They all stood, shook hands, with Bobby and Joe relieved to get out. The ladies swapped numbers but Joe knew that neither family would call. As they said their goodbyes at the car-park, Bobby reached out one final time, it might do us good to talk he asked leaning into Joe during their final handshake. Joe shook his head and let his squeezing hand make it clear that they would never speak again.
That night, long after Molly the detective had fallen asleep after an interrogation into his crime of being in possession of strange behaviour at dinner, he left Molly. Left her lying there in bed and wearing nothing but his boxers, he went into the living-room and took the phone in his hand. 911, police, fire ambulance? came the voice, and with his response Joe felt the clouds evaporate from his brain leaving a clarity he had not experienced since 16th August 1980.