The Man Who Sold His Son (Lanarkshire Strays) (2 page)

2

Sarah sat with her back to the door, vape-pod pressed to her mouth, immersed in whatever shitty Holo-Soap she was addicted to that month, body sunk deep into the memory-foam sofa. One hand tapped the thin screen of her tablet, scanning the Holo-Net. The light he’d seen from outside the building was, as he’d guessed, the flicker from the Holo-Projector filling the room. Listening to the click-whizz of the vape-pod as she inhaled the last of its contents, he allowed his anger to rise.

Alex sat in an armchair opposite her, an old chair. The sort with springs and tears and history and flaws. It’d come from his grandfather’s childhood house on Community Road. Covered in coffee-rings, it reeked of cigarettes and was one of his favourite things. Alex’s mum had wanted to throw it out when the house was being demolished. He’d practically ripped it from the house in his eagerness to preserve that one, simple tie to Tom.

Sarah tossed the empty vape-pod onto the coffee table, where it bounced once and clattered to a rest against four other empty pods. It was a defiant gesture and she glared at Alex for a reaction as she threw it.

Alex held onto his anger, controlling and supressing the need to roar at her.

“Have a good day?” Sarah sneered at him and began laughing at her own question.

“Not as good as yours.” Alex nodded at the pile of pods on the table.

“Och, that’s a shame,” she giggled. “You should relax a wee bit, treat yourself to a vape.”

Alex ignored her provocation. “How long has Tommy been in his room while you’ve been sitting in here vaped out of your head?”

Sarah laughed again. God, he hated her sometimes. At least he wished he hated her. The truth was that he loved her, God help him. His life would be a damn sight easier if he could hate Sarah.

“It’s perfectly legal, Alexander.” She tried to look nonchalant, but her expression came across twisted and dull.

“Aye, it’s legal, but that boy in there thinks you hate him. Why can’t you spend some time with him? Show him that you do care. Is this shit so important? More important than your son?” Alex lashed out with his foot, sending the table and the pile of vape-pods flying across the room.

Sarah laughed harder than ever. Rising to her feet, she staggered unsteadily over to the table and gave it an exaggerated, slapstick kick, mocking Alex.

Alex felt a deep stab of shame at losing his temper, but was struggling to keep it in check again already due to her nastiness. He composed himself and sat back into his chair, leaving her to dance foolishly, kicking the vape-pods around as she went.

Suddenly Sarah stopped her horrific dance and turned to stare at him. Eyes like stone she said, “You know I never wanted him.” Smiling once more, she continued, “We agreed if I had him, nothing had to change. I’m a young woman. I just want to enjoy myself.”

She staggered back to her sofa and retrieved another vape-pod from her handbag.

“I’m just having fun. Don’t I deserve some fun?” She started crying. There was no talking to her when she’d been vaping, and he’d promised Thomas that he wouldn’t fight with her tonight. Alex left her to it and headed to their bedroom.

Lying on top of the covers, freshly showered and in boxers and a white T, he sighed heavily and reached to his bedside table to pick up their wedding image. Holding the light plastic frame at its corners, Alex looked sadly at the image of him and Sarah smiling on their wedding day. Alex hated these moving Holo-images and much preferred the older, still photographs of his childhood. He hated the way the Holos captured and projected so accurately the emotions of the day. Alex’s smile was beaming from the Holo with pride and happiness. Sarah smiled broadly also, but her smile never reached her eyes. Even then she’d begun to grow colder.

Childhood friends, he and Sarah had lived in houses across the road from each other in Liberty Road, an older part of Bellshill. At three years old they’d gone to nursery together. At five, primary school. At twelve, high school. Throughout their childhood and adolescence they’d been best friends; each and every life event had been marked by photos and then Holos, featuring both of them. They’d come as a pair their whole lives. Eventually, they exchanged their virginities and conceived Thomas on the first go.

Sarah was almost three months pregnant by the time they’d realised and then accepted that they were one of the rare few. A couple who could produce offspring in the
old way
. Sarah felt that she’d been cursed and wondered what she’d done to deserve such a cruel outcome to her first sexual encounter. Alex was shocked, but despite what was becoming
fashionable
, despite the extra work and responsibilities and perhaps persecution having their child would bring, for him, the introduction of a child into their lives felt
right
somehow. He felt like a father from the moment he discovered the unlikely conception.

At eighteen, Sarah had been overly concerned with what her peers and her parents’ friends thought of her pregnancy. People generally made one of two assumptions: either that she’d planned conception and used the Synthi-sperm procedure, or that she was having a
Random
. Most assumed she’d conceived with Synthi-sperm, and whilst they frowned at her having made the decision so young – most mothers were in their forties these days – they simply saw her as a
silly wee lassie
who’d been a little stupid and headstrong. Sarah was happy enough, for the most part, to let people believe that she’d gotten pregnant deliberately, but it galled her to be set apart from her peers who slowly trickled away into the past and stopped calling her.

As well as her social circle depleting, her thoughts were consumed with the delivery of their baby. She was terrified at the thought and frequently had panic attacks in response to Holo-Shows about birth or during visits to the pre-natal clinic. Alex had tried his best to put her mind at ease, but really, what could he say? He had no more idea than she did about what the delivery suite would hold for her.

 
Sarah had taken time to adjust, but had eventually become more positive through the course of the pregnancy. Then, along came Thomas.

Thomas’s birth had been every bit as difficult as Sarah had feared. After a very dangerous assisted delivery, she’d been left badly damaged, physically and emotionally. Her body healed over the weeks and months that followed, but her mental health had deteriorated badly and had never recovered.

She seemed to blame their new son for the manner and difficulty of his arrival, and frequently referred to
him
as
it
.
 
Alex ignored the remarks and remained positive. Sarah worked very hard at being a mother, but it was obvious that a sense of duty drove her. She took no pleasure in her baby and clearly resented him and the responsibilities he’d brought. Sarah couldn’t bond with the boy. The daily monotony of nappies, bottles, washing, cleaning, crying, screaming, lather, rinse, repeat had chipped away at her self-esteem and her ability to remain positive. She couldn’t see the moment for what it was: a moment. A period of hardship that wouldn’t last forever. She couldn’t see an end to the
hell
she found herself in and cried for her dreams of a different life. She simply wasn’t capable of loving her baby enough to keep moving forward.

Alex juggled work and his studies and spent as much time as possible at home. Eventually, they agreed that Sarah would be happier getting out to work and Alex should drop one of his jobs to stay at home and look after Thomas more often. Alex hoped that Sarah’s escape from the
Groundhog Day
nature of being a parent to a young, demanding baby would help her lift her spirits and appreciate the now more limited time she spent with the baby. Instead, Alex’s bond with their son grew stronger and hers disappeared altogether.

As the years passed and their lives moved on, more and more Sarah had sunk into depressive routines and habits. She stopped working and began vaping two years ago. Recently she’d moved from being indifferent to Thomas to being openly hostile.

Sarah rarely left their apartment and was so desperately sad and angry all of the time Alex didn’t recognise her anymore. She’d isolated herself so completely from him and from their son that the gulf between them seemed impossible to cross. Alex had tried desperately to snap her out of the blackness she was in, but caring about her, loving her, had become more and more difficult because of how she’d been treating their son. She obviously and openly blamed him for everything she perceived as absent from or wrong with her life. Alex couldn’t find a trace of his childhood friend in her eyes anymore, but was determined to keep trying to bring her back to her old self and shield Thomas from her illness.

He picked up the Holo of their wedding day and watched his former-self hug and smile the woman he loved. He smiled sadly as he recalled that they’d had a huge row the previous night to the date of the image.
I’m only seventeen, Alex. I’m not ready to be a mother. Especially to a kid I didn’t plan. They call them Randoms now, you know.

Alex recalled every exchange from that night. In the early hours they’d argued, screamed at each other. They’d both cried and eventually he’d convinced Sarah that having their baby and getting married was the right thing to do. Not just for the baby, but for both of them also. He had it all planned: medical school, two jobs to support them whilst he studied. He promised her that they could make it work, that they’d be happy. He’d place his hand over the barely visible bump in her abdomen where their child grew and begged her to trust him. By morning she’d agreed to
try.

Alex placed the Holo-Frame face down on his bedside cabinet and turned out the light. He smiled to himself in the darkness.
I’ll take them to the beach tomorrow. Yellowcraigs Beach in Gullane. Granda’s beach.

Interlude

Some time ago….

“I’m talking to you, James. Don’t walk away from me,” Fiona screamed.

He kept right on walking through to the kitchen.

“I’m very nearly done with this shite, James.” She grunted with effort and a vase sailed past his head, missing by centimetres. James Sinclair barely noticed it. He might not have noticed the missile at all but for the wind generated by its passing. Numbly, he bent over and retrieved the larger pieces it had broken into. Fetching a small brush and pan, he began sweeping up the smaller debris.

“Watch yer feet,” he muttered.

“Oh, do fuck off,” Fiona spat at him and left the room.

Feeling a pang of regret, he turned to follow after her to tell her that he was sorry. He hadn’t slept more than three hours a night in six months, maybe more, not since…

James Sinclair pushed those memories away, somewhere dark and dusty that he never explored, along with childhood beatings at the hands of school bullies and his father. He swallowed the excuses and the stillborn-apology and threw the shattered fragments of the vase into the bin, continuing to the freezer.

Fuck
. It lay there, the vial. He shouldn’t have it; nobody knew of its existence. At the time, he couldn’t
not
take it, not after the way that bastard had treated him, treated his own son. The contents of the vial were not dangerous – they may, in fact, be very important one day – not even if they thawed, but frozen they must remain. So there they were, taunting him, reminding him of his cowardice each time he reached into his freezer, which was often. Reaching in, his hand hovered over the vial for a few very long seconds. If he only had the courage.

Sinclair sighed and picked up the bottle of Beluga vodka and gave a sardonic grin.
If you’re determined to be an alcoholic, James, might as well do it in style.

As he poured himself four fingers of the luxury drink, Sinclair gave a resigned shrug as he heard the front door slam.

3

Thomas had found himself a couple of friends and had been playing handball at the edge of the sea. As usual, his peers’ gameplay was a little genteel for his liking and he’d been trying in vain to liven things up. The kids he was playing with didn’t have the same competitive urge and soon lost interest in the game. They were sitting burying each other’s feet in the sand. Eventually Thomas got bored and walked off towards the sea to skim some smooth pebbles out across the still, gentle surface of the Firth of Forth. Alex watched his restless, outgoing son and smiled. He didn’t bother turning to share the moment with Sarah; experience had taught him that even if she had been watching, which she hadn’t, she didn’t feel the same swell in her heart as he when watching Tommy at play.

It didn’t matter. It was a beautiful day and Sarah looked peaceful for the first time in months.
 
Whilst he lay on his back, propped up on his elbows, she had rested her head across his lap and was laid face up, eyes closed, soaking up the sun’s rays. Alex played absent-mindedly with her hair and sighed in satisfaction. It was the most intimate they’d been in months and it warmed his core more completely than the day’s beautiful sunshine ever could. This trip had been a good idea. Days like today had been what he’d had in mind when he imagined his future as an eighteen-year-old new father.

Suddenly aware that he hadn’t seen Tommy for a minute or two, Alex sat up lazily, rising from his elbows carefully, so as to not disturb Sarah. Unable to see Tommy straight away, he shaded his eyes with his hand and scanned along the beachfront. In bright blue long shorts, Thomas shouldn’t have been hard to spot but Alex couldn’t see him anywhere around. Sarah groaned and rolled off him as he rose to his feet, the beginnings of panic starting to surge through him.
 
Still more or less calm, he walked quickly to the spot he’d last seen Thomas throwing stones from. He began scanning up and down the beach and along the water’s edge once more.

“Thomas!” he yelled up the beach before sprinting along the water’s edge, splashing and pushing his way along the shore.

Alex made his way east until he reached the furthermost point of the beach, scanning the depth of the beach and fifty feet into the sea as he went, before turning around and sprinting westward. After spending thirty minutes frantically running, searching and calling for his son, Alex made his way to where Sarah still lay. Grabbing her by the arm, he shook her and pulled her up onto her feet.

“Have you seen Thomas?”

“Whaaat?” she replied, groggily. She’d been vaping. Whilst he’d been searching for Thomas, she’d been getting high.

“Thomas! Have you seen him?”

Sarah waved him off dismissively and sat back down.

“He’s over there,” she slurred, pointing to the place where he’d been playing handball an hour before.

“He’s gone, Sarah.” Alex knelt in front of her, calmed himself as much as possible and took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at and focus on him.

“Sarah, I can’t find him. We need to call the police.”

Sarah blinked dumbly a few times and lay on her side before replying, “Och, he’ll be fine.”

Alex swore loudly at her, drawing the attention of a family nearby.

Turning around, he’d decided to search the beach one more time when suddenly he spotted the blue shorts he’d spent the last hour looking for.

Thomas was strolling casually towards his father accompanied by a slim, elderly man smoking a little liquorice-coloured cheroot. The man looked familiar and was dressed in a very expensive-looking suit, despite the weather and location. He had his right arm around Thomas, guiding him towards his dad. The pair of them looked relaxed and had clearly just shared a joke. Alex darted over to his son, went down on one knee and pulled him in close.

“Where the hell did you get to, Thomas? We’ve been worried sick.”

Thomas looked over his dad’s shoulder at his mother, who was slumped on a beach towel, blissfully unaware of his presence. He raised an eyebrow, challenging his dad.

Alex followed the boy’s eyes and nodded. “Well,
I’ve
been worried sick. Where have you been?”

Tommy shrugged.

“I took a walk along the beach. Ran into Mr Ennis and had a chat with him in the ice cream bar. He’s a nice man, Dad. I know what people I shouldn’t talk to, I’m not stupid.”

Alex was less than impressed with Tommy’s nonchalance and his decision to depart for an ice cream with a total stranger, but he shook off the anger and turned to shake Mr Ennis’s hand.

“Alex Kinsella. Thanks for bringing my son back, Mr Ennis.”

“Gavin, please. And it’s no trouble. He’s a very clever boy, Dr Kinsella. You must be very proud of him.” Gavin still had a hold of Alex’s hand.

Alex’s eye twitched involuntarily but he managed to force a smile onto his face.

“Thanks, Gavin. We are.”

Ennis stood smiling at him in silence, until Alex cleared his throat, pulled his hand from Gavin’s and took Tommy by the hand.

“Well, thanks again, Gavin. Good to meet you.”

“And you, Dr Kinsella.” He bent to ruffle Tommy’s hair. “Nice to meet you too, young man.”

Thomas laughed and said to Gavin, “See you again sometime? Next time we’re at the beach?”

Alex bristled at the stranger’s easy familiarity and obvious rapport with his son.

“Sure.” Gavin replied. “Bye folks.”

With that, Gavin made his way from the beach back up towards the ice cream bar.

Alex looked down at his son. “Did this guy just come over and ask you to go for an ice cream?”

Thomas shook his head. “No, Dad. I saw him reading a Jonathan Maberry book and went over to talk to him. I told you, I’m not stupid,” Thomas said defensively.

Alex looked his son in the eye. “I’m really angry at you, Thomas. You had me worried.”

Looking at his bare feet, the boy shuffled. “Sorry.”

It was a grudging apology. He clearly felt that he hadn’t done anything wrong and this worried Alex.

“C’mon, son. Let’s go take Mum home.”

As they walked towards their spot on the beach where Sarah lay, Thomas asked his father, “Can we go for a burger on the way home, Dad? I’ll pay.” Thomas fished a note from his pocket and waved it as his father.

Alex snatched the unfamiliarly-coloured note from him. Unfolding it, he realised his son had a one-thousand pound note.

“Did
he
give you this?” he asked, sounding angrier than he’d meant to.

Thomas’s eyes had begun to tear up. “Yes. It was a gift.”

“Right,” Alex said.

Grabbing Thomas by his wrist, he marched towards the ice cream bar, trailing the boy behind him and holding the note out in a fist. Storming into the bar, his eyes tore around the room, searching for Ennis. With no sign of him, Alex approached the vendor, still clutching Tommy’s wrist.

“’Scuse me?” he barked at the vendor. “Have you seen a guy in a suit?”

“Oh, aye. Mr Ennis. He was having a chat with the wee man there a wee while ago.”

“And you didn’t think that was a bit weird?” he asked the man.

Looking puzzled and a little defensive, the guy replied. “What? A guy and a wee laddie sitting laughing together over an ice cream? Not really, pal. Besides, Mr Ennis is a lovely man; he’s in here all the time.”

Alex was exasperated. “Where is he?”

The vendor shrugged. “You just missed him. His driver picked him up two minutes ago.”

“Driver?”

“Aye,” replied the vendor. “He’s got one of those big Mayback jobs. None of your hydrogen-powered nonsense, a real petrol engine.”

Alex shook off his confusion. “Who is this guy exactly?”

The vendor pointed at a Holo-Ad that was playing on the projector in the corner. The ad was for Synthi-sperm’s largest manufacturer, Synthi-Co.

“He owns that company. Lovely man, down to earth. You’d never know he had billions in the bank… Except for the car.”