State of Sleep, Page 2
Neve Pearce
CHAPTER 2
Frank and his Mum got off the bus and walked the last part of their journey home. His street of terraced houses somehow looked more grey than usual. His house was number twenty four, it was rusty and faded. Frank suddenly felt a flurry of butterflies in his stomach as he saw the place. Strange men searching the house? What had happened?
They entered the home through the tiny hall that looked like it had been made for a Hobbit. It did not help that they owned a little coffee table that stood proudly in the way of the entrance. There was a framed picture of the Prime Minister on the table. Its frame looked more expensive and shiny than the other family photos around it.
In the living room, Dad was sat on the threadbare sofa with a can of beer in front of him. He was intently watching a TV programme and had the volume uncomfortably loud as usual.
Frank stood near the door waiting for his father to acknowledge him as his mother pushed past to sit on the sofa. Both Mum and Dad leaned in closer to see the screen and ignored him.
There was a chat show on TV hosted by celebrity presenter Terry Kayle. "And now, for our next family!" Kayle cried whilst swinging his arm to point at them. There was a big cheer from the studio audience. "This couple are on their way to splitsville as Harry refuses to stop his affair!" Kayle welcomed Harry to a seat as the crowd booed.
"Bloody bastard." Frank's dad mumbled at the television.
Frank moved to beside the TV so he could look at his parents. "Hi Dad, I’m home… I was in hospital…" On television, the audience roared with angry heckles. There was silence from his father. "Dad? ... Dad?"
"Shut up, son. I'm trying to watch the TV."
Terry Kayle in his shiny suit changed his smile to a deadly serious expression. "You can watch what happens next to Harry, after the break!" Harry was crying in his chair. The camera zoomed in. The show rolled into a promo. "Has your partner left you for a horse? If so, then, please contact the show."
Frank sat down alongside his dad.
"I'm back from the hospital." Frank said looking hopeful at his father.
"Shhh... I'm trying to watch the end of this show."
"The show’s finished, Dad. I was in a terrorist attack. I’ve spent almost a week in hospital."
His father waved a hand at him to signal he wanted silence. "Don't be ridiculous. There are no terrorist attacks. Stop trying to make it sound so big and dangerous. You were fine. I have no idea why they even kept you in hospital."
Frank's cheeks turned almost as red as the sofa and he stood up to leave, clenching his fists by his sides as he walked. When he got to the door, a message from the Queen started to play. The Queen looked frail and old. She didn't look like she was in power at all. "Today is a fine September 25th."
A man whispered something in her ear to correct her as she spoke. "It's the 24th, Ma’am." Frank wondered why she was in power. It looked as if she had no power over anyone.
"We have just recently forced Russia to sign a treaty agreeing never to start a war with us again," the Queen said.
Frank grinned at the assertion. "How can they do that?" he asked. “How can they force them to promise?”
"Shut up," his father said again.
He watched his parents. His mother took an English flag from beside her chair and held it excitedly above her head whilst his dad grinned and raised his beer as a toast. “The Queen,” Dad said. “She’s bloody marvellous.”
----- X -----
Frank closed his bedroom door and sighed in relief. He leaned up against the wall and looked around his room then felt his stomach turn as he saw his favourite posters ripped off the walls and his drawers left open. On the table top was his diary with a slip of paper between some pages. Frank was mortified that someone could have read every page. He opened the diary at the slip of paper and found a picture of a muscled man in a thong. The diary entry it pointed to read, ‘One day I wish I could become a ballet dancer.’
"Oh, my God!" Frank thought.
The body builder picture and the diary comment made him appear gay. It was loaded with homosexuality. The diary comment was made after he’d watched a ballet on TV. The body builder picture was familiar… it was…
“Oh, dear God.”
Frank went under his bed to a storage box and opened it to reveal a collection of sexy magazines. Each one had been marked. Someone had drawn a black line through the cover with a thick pen. He flipped through the pages and found the body builder picture had been snipped from a page full of naked women. Someone had been in his room, had found his magazines, had cut the pages, visibly censored the covers and read his diary.
He covered his eyes with his hands in embarrassment. "What if Mum has seen this?"
On the floor was a crunched poster of his favourite band. It was a punk band called Anarchy! Frank felt a sudden twinge of embarrassment at it. Whoever had been in his room had judged him on that poster.
He curled up on his bed and felt a dam burst in his mind. The attack, the hospital, his parents, the intrusion and loss of privacy all hit him at once and he began to cry.
----- X -----
Frank walked into the living room and took a seat between both his parents on the sofa. The TV was at nearly full volume again and his parents were ignoring him, but he was grateful that he was with them and not alone.
His mum turned to Frank with a frown across her face. "Dear, you never did answer me. Why have these strange men been coming round my house and asking questions? And this time I want a real answer." She put down the remote and crossed her arms at him.
Frank sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Mum, I've told you, I really don't know. Did they say anything to you? Did they say they were the police?"
On the television, Government Apprentice had started again and his mother picked up the remote to turn the volume a little louder.
Government Apprentice was their favourite programme. There were ten hopeful strangers trying to milk a cow to prove they have what it takes to work alongside the government. Each person failed at each ridiculous task they were given. It felt strange to Frank. He felt like he knew that all these people were going to fail before the programme had even started. There was no point to it at all.
Frank turned to his mum, curious as to what her reaction to his next question might be. "Did you know that those men went through my things? They went through all of my personal belongings.”
"Shut up, Frank. I want to watch the show. This episode is by far the best I've seen." She didn't look at him whilst she spoke. It was like the programme was all his parents cared about. It was hard to believe that only a week ago he would have sat as his parents did and laughed at the fools on the… Good, God… a week ago he was doing the same. He was sitting beside them, engrossed and waiting for the next show to come on. The whole family life had revolved around stupid television programmes.
He looked to his mother. She was mesmerised at a new cologne advert being played. A familiar face appeared on the TV screen and both his parents were grinning with delight. It was the Prime Minister. The old man's eyes glazed over when he said, "Do you want to smell like victory? Well, by buying this cologne you can smell just like me. Every day. Just remember; The government protects."
His parents were glued to the box. They were acting like robots.
Frank laughed at the advert and pointed at the screen to get their attention. "Who would want to smell like him?”
"How dare you laugh at our Prime Minister? No son of mine says a thing like that!" It was clear that his father had cracked. Frank stood up and turned the television off. He turned to face his parents. They looked mortified.
“We need to talk about what happened to me,” Frank said.
Both his parents were speechless. Their mouths hung open. They clearly could not believe he had done what he had done. The television… It was turned off!
"You really have no idea, do you?” he began. “I was in a terrorist attack less than a week ago. Do you really expect the government to be able to protect every one of us when things like this happen? And for that matter, you haven't even asked how I feel..." Frank's voice trailed away as he watched rage building on his father’s face.
"Are you mad? Are you insane? Government Apprentice is on. Turn that television back on this instant. I don't know what’s got into you. Is this a cry for help or something? Frank, there was no terrorist attack. There's just no such thing. What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Turning off the TV during Government Apprentice? I think you need to go back to hospital."
Mum stood up and turned the set back on and pushed Frank to the side so he didn’t block the screen.
The adverts finished and the programme rolled on and his parents went back to it like nothing had happened. Something weird was happening. Something very weird.
----- X -----
Frank sat at his desk and examined the medication the nurse had given him in the hospital. He read the front: 'The Government Protects', that was all it said. There was nothing else. There was no use by date, no ingredients, no list of side effects. Inside the pack were pale blue pills and a note that read, ‘Take one before sleeping every evening until the pack is finished. The Government Protects.’
Why should he take these? He wasn’t sick, was he?
It was strange and unsettling to be ordered to take pills when he had no idea what they were for. He didn’t know what they were made of. He didn’t know how they would affect him. The nurse had acted strangely when she handed them to him and he realised that she probably didn’t know what they were for either. He set them back down on the desk and went to his bed.
He wondered what would happen to him if he were to swallow the pills. Then he wondered what would happen to him if he didn’t take them. Perhaps they're just anti-depre
ssants, he thought, but surely the doctors would have told him if they were.
He decided not to take them.
He’d been told to take them. In fact, he’d been ordered to take them.
He decided definitely… he wouldn’t take them.
It was 11:47pm. He changed into his dreadful pyjama bottoms that his mother had bought him years ago. The faded print of comic book characters were still noticeable. He lay down and closed his eyes.
Frank rested in the darkness rather than slept. He was too agitated. Despite the long hours awake he slept in fits of stress from crazy dreams.
He dreamed of a plump man in a black suit reading his diary. The man wore a suit jacket that stretched the fabric and his flies were undone. He dreamed of another man with a sour face and spindly wrinkled hands like needles that clutched a folder with red, printed words that read, 'Top Secret.' This man grunted in disgust at the poster for 'Anarchy!' and ripped it off the wall. All night long Frank’s sleep was broken by dreams of these men. They were in his room, they were watching him, they were reading his diary, they were laughing at the things he wrote. He imagined them looking at his sexy magazines and tutting as they scrawled their black pen on the cover to prove they had been there. They enjoyed taunting him by proving they could look anywhere. He imagined them enjoying their joke as they cut the body builder picture out and placed it with the diary entry as cruel bullying. It was like they were calling him gay, but from afar. Leaving clues to call him queer.
Sleep was difficult.
Frank and his Mum got off the bus and walked the last part of their journey home. His street of terraced houses somehow looked more grey than usual. His house was number twenty four, it was rusty and faded. Frank suddenly felt a flurry of butterflies in his stomach as he saw the place. Strange men searching the house? What had happened?
They entered the home through the tiny hall that looked like it had been made for a Hobbit. It did not help that they owned a little coffee table that stood proudly in the way of the entrance. There was a framed picture of the Prime Minister on the table. Its frame looked more expensive and shiny than the other family photos around it.
In the living room, Dad was sat on the threadbare sofa with a can of beer in front of him. He was intently watching a TV programme and had the volume uncomfortably loud as usual.
Frank stood near the door waiting for his father to acknowledge him as his mother pushed past to sit on the sofa. Both Mum and Dad leaned in closer to see the screen and ignored him.
There was a chat show on TV hosted by celebrity presenter Terry Kayle. "And now, for our next family!" Kayle cried whilst swinging his arm to point at them. There was a big cheer from the studio audience. "This couple are on their way to splitsville as Harry refuses to stop his affair!" Kayle welcomed Harry to a seat as the crowd booed.
"Bloody bastard." Frank's dad mumbled at the television.
Frank moved to beside the TV so he could look at his parents. "Hi Dad, I’m home… I was in hospital…" On television, the audience roared with angry heckles. There was silence from his father. "Dad? ... Dad?"
"Shut up, son. I'm trying to watch the TV."
Terry Kayle in his shiny suit changed his smile to a deadly serious expression. "You can watch what happens next to Harry, after the break!" Harry was crying in his chair. The camera zoomed in. The show rolled into a promo. "Has your partner left you for a horse? If so, then, please contact the show."
Frank sat down alongside his dad.
"I'm back from the hospital." Frank said looking hopeful at his father.
"Shhh... I'm trying to watch the end of this show."
"The show’s finished, Dad. I was in a terrorist attack. I’ve spent almost a week in hospital."
His father waved a hand at him to signal he wanted silence. "Don't be ridiculous. There are no terrorist attacks. Stop trying to make it sound so big and dangerous. You were fine. I have no idea why they even kept you in hospital."
Frank's cheeks turned almost as red as the sofa and he stood up to leave, clenching his fists by his sides as he walked. When he got to the door, a message from the Queen started to play. The Queen looked frail and old. She didn't look like she was in power at all. "Today is a fine September 25th."
A man whispered something in her ear to correct her as she spoke. "It's the 24th, Ma’am." Frank wondered why she was in power. It looked as if she had no power over anyone.
"We have just recently forced Russia to sign a treaty agreeing never to start a war with us again," the Queen said.
Frank grinned at the assertion. "How can they do that?" he asked. “How can they force them to promise?”
"Shut up," his father said again.
He watched his parents. His mother took an English flag from beside her chair and held it excitedly above her head whilst his dad grinned and raised his beer as a toast. “The Queen,” Dad said. “She’s bloody marvellous.”
----- X -----
Frank closed his bedroom door and sighed in relief. He leaned up against the wall and looked around his room then felt his stomach turn as he saw his favourite posters ripped off the walls and his drawers left open. On the table top was his diary with a slip of paper between some pages. Frank was mortified that someone could have read every page. He opened the diary at the slip of paper and found a picture of a muscled man in a thong. The diary entry it pointed to read, ‘One day I wish I could become a ballet dancer.’
"Oh, my God!" Frank thought.
The body builder picture and the diary comment made him appear gay. It was loaded with homosexuality. The diary comment was made after he’d watched a ballet on TV. The body builder picture was familiar… it was…
“Oh, dear God.”
Frank went under his bed to a storage box and opened it to reveal a collection of sexy magazines. Each one had been marked. Someone had drawn a black line through the cover with a thick pen. He flipped through the pages and found the body builder picture had been snipped from a page full of naked women. Someone had been in his room, had found his magazines, had cut the pages, visibly censored the covers and read his diary.
He covered his eyes with his hands in embarrassment. "What if Mum has seen this?"
On the floor was a crunched poster of his favourite band. It was a punk band called Anarchy! Frank felt a sudden twinge of embarrassment at it. Whoever had been in his room had judged him on that poster.
He curled up on his bed and felt a dam burst in his mind. The attack, the hospital, his parents, the intrusion and loss of privacy all hit him at once and he began to cry.
----- X -----
Frank walked into the living room and took a seat between both his parents on the sofa. The TV was at nearly full volume again and his parents were ignoring him, but he was grateful that he was with them and not alone.
His mum turned to Frank with a frown across her face. "Dear, you never did answer me. Why have these strange men been coming round my house and asking questions? And this time I want a real answer." She put down the remote and crossed her arms at him.
Frank sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Mum, I've told you, I really don't know. Did they say anything to you? Did they say they were the police?"
On the television, Government Apprentice had started again and his mother picked up the remote to turn the volume a little louder.
Government Apprentice was their favourite programme. There were ten hopeful strangers trying to milk a cow to prove they have what it takes to work alongside the government. Each person failed at each ridiculous task they were given. It felt strange to Frank. He felt like he knew that all these people were going to fail before the programme had even started. There was no point to it at all.
Frank turned to his mum, curious as to what her reaction to his next question might be. "Did you know that those men went through my things? They went through all of my personal belongings.”
"Shut up, Frank. I want to watch the show. This episode is by far the best I've seen." She didn't look at him whilst she spoke. It was like the programme was all his parents cared about. It was hard to believe that only a week ago he would have sat as his parents did and laughed at the fools on the… Good, God… a week ago he was doing the same. He was sitting beside them, engrossed and waiting for the next show to come on. The whole family life had revolved around stupid television programmes.
He looked to his mother. She was mesmerised at a new cologne advert being played. A familiar face appeared on the TV screen and both his parents were grinning with delight. It was the Prime Minister. The old man's eyes glazed over when he said, "Do you want to smell like victory? Well, by buying this cologne you can smell just like me. Every day. Just remember; The government protects."
His parents were glued to the box. They were acting like robots.
Frank laughed at the advert and pointed at the screen to get their attention. "Who would want to smell like him?”
"How dare you laugh at our Prime Minister? No son of mine says a thing like that!" It was clear that his father had cracked. Frank stood up and turned the television off. He turned to face his parents. They looked mortified.
“We need to talk about what happened to me,” Frank said.
Both his parents were speechless. Their mouths hung open. They clearly could not believe he had done what he had done. The television… It was turned off!
"You really have no idea, do you?” he began. “I was in a terrorist attack less than a week ago. Do you really expect the government to be able to protect every one of us when things like this happen? And for that matter, you haven't even asked how I feel..." Frank's voice trailed away as he watched rage building on his father’s face.
"Are you mad? Are you insane? Government Apprentice is on. Turn that television back on this instant. I don't know what’s got into you. Is this a cry for help or something? Frank, there was no terrorist attack. There's just no such thing. What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Turning off the TV during Government Apprentice? I think you need to go back to hospital."
Mum stood up and turned the set back on and pushed Frank to the side so he didn’t block the screen.
The adverts finished and the programme rolled on and his parents went back to it like nothing had happened. Something weird was happening. Something very weird.
----- X -----
Frank sat at his desk and examined the medication the nurse had given him in the hospital. He read the front: 'The Government Protects', that was all it said. There was nothing else. There was no use by date, no ingredients, no list of side effects. Inside the pack were pale blue pills and a note that read, ‘Take one before sleeping every evening until the pack is finished. The Government Protects.’
Why should he take these? He wasn’t sick, was he?
It was strange and unsettling to be ordered to take pills when he had no idea what they were for. He didn’t know what they were made of. He didn’t know how they would affect him. The nurse had acted strangely when she handed them to him and he realised that she probably didn’t know what they were for either. He set them back down on the desk and went to his bed.
He wondered what would happen to him if he were to swallow the pills. Then he wondered what would happen to him if he didn’t take them. Perhaps they're just anti-depre
ssants, he thought, but surely the doctors would have told him if they were.
He decided not to take them.
He’d been told to take them. In fact, he’d been ordered to take them.
He decided definitely… he wouldn’t take them.
It was 11:47pm. He changed into his dreadful pyjama bottoms that his mother had bought him years ago. The faded print of comic book characters were still noticeable. He lay down and closed his eyes.
Frank rested in the darkness rather than slept. He was too agitated. Despite the long hours awake he slept in fits of stress from crazy dreams.
He dreamed of a plump man in a black suit reading his diary. The man wore a suit jacket that stretched the fabric and his flies were undone. He dreamed of another man with a sour face and spindly wrinkled hands like needles that clutched a folder with red, printed words that read, 'Top Secret.' This man grunted in disgust at the poster for 'Anarchy!' and ripped it off the wall. All night long Frank’s sleep was broken by dreams of these men. They were in his room, they were watching him, they were reading his diary, they were laughing at the things he wrote. He imagined them looking at his sexy magazines and tutting as they scrawled their black pen on the cover to prove they had been there. They enjoyed taunting him by proving they could look anywhere. He imagined them enjoying their joke as they cut the body builder picture out and placed it with the diary entry as cruel bullying. It was like they were calling him gay, but from afar. Leaving clues to call him queer.
Sleep was difficult.
