A very short story

Fireworks

In accordance with the laws of his social class Paul Coates left school at the age of fifteen to work in the same meat-processing factory as his father, who put in a word for him. He was supposed to be grateful for this assisted passage into the world of employment, but he hated the stench of carcasses, blood and bones and the feeling that his life was labelled and packaged like the meat that left the factory. Only Rob Bowen, eighteen, friendly and funny made the long days bearable. He showed him the ropes, told him how to go on and helped him feel less awkward with his gently teasing jokes and ready smile.

In the November that Paul turned sixteen one of the girls in their section invited everyone to her 21^st party. It was to be held downtown in the old White Rose pub that nestled under an arch of Jubilee Bridge. Paul’s parents granted him permission to go, after all he was earning now and a working lad was entitled to some leisure.

Rob bought Paul a pint of Guinness, he would have preferred sweet cider but was too shy to say so. He soon got used to the heavy beer’s bitter taste and liked the way it made the world move into soft focus. Julie, the birthday girl, finally claimed a dance with Rob, taking his hands and pulling him onto the floor where she put her arms around his neck and he put his around her waist. They slow danced to Danny Williams singing Moon River with Julie never taking her eyes from Rob’s face. Watching them through soft focus, Paul suddenly felt like crying.

Stepping outside into the damp air he wandered onto the bridge, leaning against its cold iron ribs. It was November fifth and there were fireworks in the night sky, their sparkle and fire briefly reflected in the dirty flow of The Tees below. Closing his eyes Paul pictured Rob and Julie dancing to Moon River, hearing the melody echo in his mind along with the distant thunder of fireworks. Tears squeezed past his closed lids, running down his face.

The years passed. Paul rose to a managerial position in the factory, took a wife and had children.

‘Remember, remember the fifth of November,’ Paul Coates murmured the words of the ancient rhyme to himself as he stood by a dark window watching the sky blaze in commemoration of conspiracy foiled. He sipped from a glass in his hand and allowed his mind to backtrack three decades to a November fifth when he was just sixteen and kissed for the very first time. He closed his eyes in honour of the memory. It had been good, sweet and warm. He could taste it still and feel the excitement that soared through body and mind. Rob had followed him outside, asked what was wrong, put an arm around his shoulders. They had looked at each other and then it happened, a tender kiss that should have led to a flowering of passion and a finding of self. It didn’t. Julie came in search of Rob and she told what she saw on Jubilee Bridge that night as fireworks soared overhead. It got back to Paul’s father. Fireworks ensued. Rob was dismissed from his job and warned off, he was also dismissed from the parental home. He left the area and that was that. Where was he now, how had life shaped him, had he also heeded advice and walked the straight and narrow path? A melody echoed in Paul’s mind along with the thunder of fireworks and an ache of longing to be sixteen again. Tears squeezed past his closed lids, running down his face.

Accidental overdose of prescribed medication, concluded the coroner at Paul’s inquest. Was it really accidental or was it Paul calling time on three decades of quiet depression and loneliness? Either way his life was over. His body was cremated, but his ashes instead of being cast free on the wind, as he had wished, were interred in hallowed ground, beneath a slab of concrete that bore his name and the legend ‘a contented family man of faith and love.’ He was bound in death just as he’d been bound in life. The memorial stone remains barren all year, except in autumn when it’s closeted by fallen leaves. Just once, on a November fifth, someone brushed away the decaying leaves and placed a single white rose next to Paul’s name.