A Portal Unknown

Mirrored Life

The putrid stench of the morning air filled my lungs. The early rays of dawn hit my eyes as I roused, stretched and tried to thaw my stiff body into some form of motion. I had been living in this tiny one bedroom walkup- in a rough part of town where good mothers wouldn't let their kids, much less dogs, out past 7 pm—for as long as I can remember. 

I had been tossed around to various part time minders growing up as my mum hung onto three odd jobs and was never back before the crack of dawn, but somehow always managed to reek of alcohol and raid her hidden liquid stash upon return, cursing whilst attempting to tidy the one room in which we both lived in. 

Dad was rarely ever mentioned, only fleeting in and out of our lives on occasion, stepping in to turn the house upside down looking for cash and almost inevitably always had the neighbours shout at him to keep it down when he did start a shouting match with my mother, if she was ever around. Engorged veins on his left forearm together with painful swollen red marks bore evidence of his addiction. 

I took the brunt of his madness and rage when mum wasn't his first choice but not anymore, not since I turned 17. 

Lately, his drop ins were less frequent. Perhaps he saw no point, perhaps I was already tipping 6 foot and filling out, still scrawny but hardened by being bullied and dragged up on the streets. This wasn't a home. It was squalour, flith, rage, regrets, madness and hurt all rolled into one. I had dealt and used drugs, fleeted in and out of gangs and gotten into so much trouble by the time I was 15 that this was all there was, all I knew and all I believed the future held. Close shaves and lucky escapes kept me out of prison and probation. School was a distant memory. Life was bleak and drugs provided a much-needed escape. I seethed at my circumstance, all the while too angry and full of pride to inflict self-pity. I yearned for more. 

 "Ma! I won't be back tonight," I heaved, one Tuesday afternoon. 

 "Where ya goin' son? Out again with them thugs, boy? You need to get your ass back in school and do somethin' good with yer life ya know?!" she hollered. "Don't you end up like your Dad or me, that'll be the day!"

She took a long drag of her cigarette and exhaled grudgingly. 

 I muttered back, "Well hell, ain't nothin' as bad as stayin' here." 

That was the last I saw of her. I was off that evening, satchel on my back and hopped on the last train out of slumville. There were no plans, there never was. I didn't know where I was going but just wanted to leave as far away as possible. Anywhere seemed better than slumville. 

 "I should've done this a long time ago, " I muttered under my breath, slouched against the seat in a corner of the train carriage, baseball cap pulled down low so I could catch some sleep before the last stop. 

The train finally jolted to a halt and the blaring disembarking message jarred overhead. I had no idea how long had passed but felt slightly more energized nonetheless. I got off the train and the first thing to hit me in the face was the bitterly cold frosty air, stinging my cheeks, nose and lips. Yet it smelt fresh, urban and had an intoxicating mix of car fumes and perfume. 

Everything felt new and exciting. I was intrigued and stimulated by this new environment. A surge of brashness, bravado and youthful optimism swept over me as I wrapped my jacket tight over my chest and pounded the pavement, leaving puffs of condensed air as I walked. 

It must have been 12am, yet it seemed otherwise. The streets were still bustling, some shops with shutters half down but most others still open and those upper middle -class folk going about their business--couples, groups, laughing, chatting away. It couldn't seem further removed from where I had come from. A mere couple of hours on the train and this was a whole new world, where glossy shopfronts beckoned me in and flashy cars whizzed by, a heady mix of money on display and not much else.