Writing – Don’t You Forget About Me

It was her eyes that he first noticed. Brown with a twinkle that lit up his heart. He loved her. They’d gone out for about a year then it happened. One minute he’s living in a state of bliss, all loved up and happy and warm. Next thing that cheeky little shit comes along and takes that all away from him. Mates they were as well. Fucking snake.

To be fair it was over twenty years ago and he had moved on. It’s not like he’d built shrine for her or anything. He did think about her from time to time. And him. But he dealt with it and now things were better. He had Sophie and Greg and of course Sara. He’d met her when he’d just started up the business and was fitting a worktop in the cafe she was working at. Sara had been good for him. She’d help keep his head together when it all went pear shaped and he nearly went bankrupt. Just as his firm began to grow again and he was finding his feet Sophie and Greg were born. At the time he wasn’t too sure. Twins would be expensive but they’d be okay. Sara would find part time work as they got older and started school. He was doing great. Lovely kids and a diamond of a wife.

But that shady cunt sharking in on Jane behind his back. Probably planned it. Getting him drunk and asking him all those questions. He most likely had a tape recorder or something. It’d only been that one time after the school disco and he was pissed. Why did he have to go and blab about it? Slimy little grass. Next thing Jane has fucked him off and she’s with that rat. Bang out of order. He’s lucky he didn’t punch his head in. He should’ve done. Too late now.

On the way to the kitchen he hears the kids arguing about something. He’s not even going there, no point getting into it with a pair of stroppy teenagers. Especially when they start using all those fancy words. God knows where they get that from, probably those videos they watch on YouTube. He still didn’t know what fallacious meant but apparently that’s what his arguments were. They talk circles round him and make him feel a right twat. No let them argue with each other.

He grabs his keys and jacket and goes out to sit in the car.

The thing is this, it’s not like he’s totally bothered by it. He manages okay but sometimes it makes him angry. He switches on the stereo, closes his eyes and tries to relax. There’s a crackle the a song begins to play. Don’t You Forget About Me by Simple Minds. He sings along but by the second verse he’s had enough. He puts the keys in the ignition and starts the car.

He knows exactly where he lives. He spotted the dickhead in town once and followed him. He still lived in his parents house. His fucking parents! Probably too scared to live like a proper man. He had his own house when he was in his twenties. Granted on a mortgage but it was his.

The song is still playing. That was his and Jane’s song. He’d gotten her into Simple Minds. Bought her the album Once upon a Time for her birthday. He remembered drinking vodka with her and dancing round the car park that night. He loved that. He loved her. But then that prick spoiled it all.

He pushed down on the accelerator. The song ended, there was a pause and then it played again on repeat. Then he just drove and drove.

When he got there it was getting dark. He could see the lights through the blinds. He stood in front of the house and looked at it. He remembered that front door. The big brass knocker in the shape of a lions head. The thick frosted glass windows. He thought about kicking the thing in but instead he calmed down and took a deep breath. He walked a few steps and then bang-bang-banged the lions head against the door. A light came on in the hallway and through the frosted glass he could see a shape moving towards the door. It opened and they both stared at each other.

“Can I help you?”

“Can you help me? Can you fucking help me? I should knock you out dickhead!”

The door began to close. The coward was trying to run away. Fuck that, he’d driven two hours to get there. He wasn’t having the door slammed in his face. He lunged forward and jammed his foot against the closing door then pushed his way into the hall. The little shit tried running but he caught him by his hair and pulled him back. He fell onto the floor in a heap and started whining.

“Please, stop. We haven’t got anything. What do you want?”

“Are you serious? Do you think I’ve forgotten. An apology would be a start.”

“I’m sorry, please just go.”

“Why did you do it eh? Why did you steal her from me?”

“What?”

“Don’t act stupid. You know what you did, you’ve just apologised. Were you recording me that night?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Recording you? Just tell me please, what do you want?”

He punched him in the face. Hard.

“I should’ve done that years ago. In fact.”

He punched him three more times. His head bounced off the wall the third time and he slumped onto the carpet. There was blood then a scream. Standing looking at him was a woman and a young lad probably a bit younger than Greg. But he recognised those eyes. Her eyes. It was Jane. He smiled.

“Jane, hey it’s me. Look I’ve been thinking about you recently and I just wanted to say..”

Jane screamed again then took out a mobile phone and started dialling.

“Jane what’s up, it’s me. Don’t scream. Look at me. Let me see those lovely eyes. Come on Jane, why are you crying?”

He began to sing Don’t You Forget About Me by Simple Minds as Jane and the boy were sobbing loudly. The sirens of the police car drowned out all the noise just before the end of the second verse.

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