We're Not Strangers Anymore

Chapter Thirty Three - Uncle Pierce

The sound of John Lennon's soothing tones blasted through the small radio in the master bedroom of Pierce Grey's bungalow.
Across the hall and in the kitchen, Charlie's uncle was preparing a fish supper. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since the unfortunate passing of his mother, and Charlie was struggling big time. During the previous night he had woken up and sobbed into his pillow approximately five times, and on each and every one of those five separate occasions his uncle had ran straight in with a box of tissues and a heart full of support.
Charlie was sat on the edge of his uncle's bed, eyeing up the plain walls with an expressionless stare. The smell of freshly cooked haddock floated into the room, filling his nostrils with a pleasant aroma. But Charlie wasn't bothered about eating at this moment in time; he just wanted his Mum back. A couple of mindless minutes passed by, and Uncle Pierce came into the room.
'Stupid question, I know, but how are you feeling?' he asked, joining his nephew on the edge of the double bed.
'Hopeless,' Charlie said with a sigh, 'I feel lost. I just don't know what to do.'
Pierce wrapped a warm arm around the boy's shoulders and took a deep inhale.
'I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're going through, because I don't, but I can tell you one thing for sure.'
'What's that?'
'You're a stronger lad than me, mate. I'd have been bawling my eyes out for the entirety of the day, if I were in your position. My old dear is my rock, always has been. Sorry buddy, that probably came out very insensitively.'
'Believe me,' said Charlie, 'I've already done plenty of that. I miss her so much, is that normal?'
Uncle Pierce smiled. 'Of course it is, silly. And hey, I know for a fact that your Mum wouldn't have wanted you to spend a day with wet eyes, now would she? She'd want you to spend it eating a delicious bit of fish, and not worrying about what's gone on.'
Charlie wiped his eyes. 'You're right. Thank you, Uncle Pierce, and thank you for taking me in like this. I really appreciate it.'
'Don't be silly, why wouldn't I? You're my family, and not just that either. You're my favourite nephew in the whole wide world, and I wouldn't ever see you with nowhere to turn. We may not be bloodline, but I love you like my own. Now, I just need to know one thing.'
'What?' Charlie asked inquisitively.
'Before I ask you this one thing, I just need to make you aware that the way I see you will depend on how you answer this question. Through that kitchen down the hall, I have a piping hot bag of chippies, and they look absolutely delicious. So, the million pound question is this... are you a salt and vinegar man, or not?'
For the first time in a long time, Charlie started to laugh.
'Uncle Pierce, do you have to be so dramatic?'
'Dramatic? Me? Never! So, what's it to be?'
Charlie dabbed at his eyes with a wrinkled tissue. 'Salt and vinegar, of course.'
'I can now reveal that that is the correct answer. Your prize is a fresh bag of lovely chips, cooked by Belgrave's finest!'
'Sally's Café?'
'Charlie, dear, I think you'll find that I said "Belgrave's finest", not "Belgrave's most painfully average" - they're from Henry's Fish Bar, just down the road! Oh, don't tell me you've never been there!'
Charlie shook his head. 'No, never. Sorry.'
'You will be sorry, when you taste these chips!'

When the two of them had finished eating, Charlie took both of their plates into the kitchen. He turned on the taps, filled the washing-up bowl with liquid, and began to scrub. Twenty seconds in, Pierce waltzed into the room and intervened.
'I don't think so, mister. You are the guest in the house, therefore you shall not be doing any kinds of chores. Sit yourself down, you are in for a mega boys night in front of the telly.'
Charlie sat down, and soon after his upbeat uncle joined him.
'So, what sort of stuff do you usually have on?'
'What do you mean?'
'You know, what sort of shows you into?'
'I'm not, really. I mean, I like television, but I usually just read a book of a nighttime. Mum likes to watch TV, or do a crossword, and I like to read, that's normally how it goes.'
'You poor thing,' Pierce exclaimed, his eyes expanding with shock in learning that not everyone in the world enjoys watching the television as much as himself. 'But what do you like to watch when you do get the chance?'
'I don't know, really,' Charlie sighed, 'I guess I quite like that Danger Mouse, and Blue Peter is pretty cool too.'
'Oh I used to adore Blue Peter,' Pierce said, his previous shock substituting itself for an impressed expression. 'I'm guessing you're not a big fan of the soaps, then?'
'Hell no,' Charlie replied passionately, 'not at all. I'd rather gauge my eyes out with a large fork, to be more precise. My Mum, she loves that Emmerdale Farm, but I just can't be doing with it. Well, she did love it, should I say.'
Pierce stayed silent for a moment, picking up an awkward feeling in the air at the mention of Irene's name.
'I couldn't live without that programme,' he added after a brief pause, 'that show really does keep me going. Gives me something to look forward to, you know?'
Charlie nodded, though he didn't understand why he was agreeing.
The current channel was now displaying the evening's news, and Pierce let out a large, audible sigh as the reporter began to run through a banal list of today's events.
'Welcome to the news at six. In today's news, we will be speaking to mental health professionals across the country, asking them the questions that need to be answered. Our first guest is Dr. William Shearsmith, who has very kindly joined us in the studio to educate us on the growing suicide rate in the West Midlands, and what we can do to prevent it—'
Pierce reached for the remote to change the channel. Emmerdale Farm was on the old television set now, and Charlie sat in complete silence as he watched two middle-aged northerners bicker relentlessly.
He looked over at his Uncle Pierce, who was also sat in a suspiciously quiet bubble.
'You didn't have to turn over, you know.'
'I'm sorry mate, I just thought that—'
'I know you did, and that was nice of you. But I don't need sympathy, honestly I don't. What happened last night has broken my heart, but trying to cater to my emotional needs will just make it worse. I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I just don't want you to change over because of me.'
'Charlie,' Pierce began, 'I didn't just do it for you. I don't like seeing stuff like that either. I find it so tedious, these so-called "mental health professionals" that preach about wellness and self-care whilst sat in their lavish offices, on the highest floor in their ivory towers. It makes me think of your Uncle David, and it makes me mad. It makes me angry, in fact. These "professionals" are not professionals at all.'
Charlie looked across and met his eyes, which were sad and filled to the brim with tears. 'I miss Uncle David too. I wish I could bring him back, but I can't.'
'I'm sorry,' Pierce said, drying his eyes on a fresh tissue. 'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make this all about me. The whole thing with your Uncle is still very raw for me, you see, and I know that you probably think I'm a boring old softie for watching the soaps of a night, but it's just a release. I look forward to the little things in life, because... well, because I don't have any bigger things to look forward to anymore. And to tell you the truth, Charlie, I was absolutely made up when you showed up at my door yesterday evening, I really was. A simple thing like you showing up and staying the night has really put on a smile on my face, it honestly has. And I know the circumstances surrounding it are awful, absolutely devastating, but deep inside all of that awfulness we've managed to find a silver lining. It's meant that I've gotten to see you... my favourite little nephew.'
He began to break down in front of Charlie, sniffling into the beige sofa. 'I'm sorry. I really am. I don't mean to get so upset, I know you're going through an awful time at the minute and everything.. I love you kiddo, don't you ever forget that. Your Uncle is still with us, we both love you millions.'
Charlie started to get upset. He stood up, turned the television down, and joined his uncle on the sofa next to the window.
'My Mum said that Uncle David had depression, but he can't really have done.'
Pierce looked into his eyes, confused. 'Why's that?'
'Well,' Charlie said, 'Uncle David was always smiling. He used to make me laugh all of the time. I wish he was still around, so much...'
'That's not quite how it works, I'm afraid,' said Pierce. 'Your Uncle, in many aspects, was a happy man, and you're quite right about that. Unfortunately, he had his own personal demons, amongst other problems. But David loved the bones of you, I can tell you that for a fact. He loved all of his family, your mother included. He was a very loved man around this town, was your Uncle.'
Charlie frowned. 'But if he loved everybody, and everybody loved him, then why did he do it? Why... why did he kill himself?'
Pierce sighed, scratching his head and dabbing his nose gently with a tissue. 'Because he was in pain, son. He wasn't a well man.'
'I thought he was healthy?' Charlie asked.
'No,' said Pierce, 'no, I don't mean in that way. He wasn't very well in his head, in his mind, and I suppose he'd reached a point where he didn't feel like life was worth living anymore.'
Charlie stared at the floor. An intense sadness surged through his body, a feeling that felt and seemed all too familiar to him.
Pierce stared mindlessly out of the window, and Charlie could see a stream of tears flowing elegantly down his cheek in the reflection.
'Don't be sad, Uncle Pierce. Uncle David wouldn't want you to be upset.'
He wrapped a supportive arm around his Uncle, who's intense sobs were now drowning out the noise of banal English chatter from the television.
'I'm sorry Charlie, I really am. I shouldn't be getting upset like this, not in front of you.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, you're here because your mother has just passed, and I'm sat here in a state about someone else.'
'But Uncle David was important too, just as important as my Mum. I miss them both, and we should be talking about them both.'
'You're very mature for your age,' Pierce said, examining his nephew. 'I'm just struggling to work out how you're coping so well.'
'I don't know how I am. My guess is that Uncle David's death gave me a bit of practice.'
'It's not right, none of this is fair. You are fourteen years old, you shouldn't have experienced this much heartache in your time. I don't know how you do it Charlie, I really don't. I'm sat here in floods of tears, yet you're the one who is managing to keep it together.'
'Well, practice makes perfect,' said Charlie, and the two of them began to laugh.
'Your mother was a kind-hearted woman, son,' Pierce said, scratching his head. 'That lady would have done anything for you. She won't be forgotten anytime soon, I can tell you that for a fact.'
Charlie stared blankly out of the window, fixating his gaze onto the heavy traffic outside of the window.
'On the day of Uncle David's funeral, I asked my Mum if she was depressed. She said no, and she told me that she loved me. Why did she tell me that she wasn't depressed, when she was?'
'Charlie, listen,' Pierce said whilst sitting up, 'your mother was a happy woman. In general, she was the life and soul of the party. But the fact of the matter is that sometimes, the lie is much easier on the heart than the truth could ever be. Do you see what I'm saying?'
'I guess,' said Charlie, sniffling and coughing into a tissue. 'It's just... well, I don't know what to do with myself now. My Mum did everything for me, and now she's not even here anymore. I don't have anyone left.'
'But you have me, Charlie, and we're family. I'll tell you a little something about families - they stick together. No matter what the circumstance. You're gonna be okay, kid, and that's something that I can promise to you.'
The sound of cars beeping passed faintly through the single-glazed window.
'Can I ask you something?'
'Charlie, of course you can. What's on your mind?'
For a few awkward moments, both of them paused. Charlie was preparing the question in his mind, knowing full-well what the answer was already. Pierce was anticipating the question, a question that he already knew was going to come up at some point or another. In his mind, his nephew's question was inevitable. That's it. Time to face the music.
And finally, the silence was shattered with a simple yet complicated query.
'Why didn't my Mum like you?'
Pierce stopped looking out of the window. He turned to face his nephew, who was now looking inquisitive as ever.
'Because I was married to your Uncle David,' Pierce finally muttered. 'We were happy, don't get me wrong. Your Uncle was the love of my life, and I will never be able to replicate that adoration with anybody else, I am absolutely sure of that, but—'
'No,' Charlie interrupted, 'that's not what I asked. I want to know why my Mum didn't like you being married to Uncle David.'
Pierce frowned.
'Isn't it obvious?'
'No, that's why I'm asking. Did you do something wrong?'
'I didn't do anything wrong. Not that I know of, anyway. Your mother just didn't approve, because.. well, she's a little older than me. She was born in a different time. I don't think she agreed with gay marriage.'
'But, why wouldn't she agree? It's just the same as a man and a woman marrying each other, isn't it?'
'Yes,' Pierce whispered, 'precisely. But your mother is an old fashioned lady, therefore she didn't share similar views. Don't get me wrong, she's loving, and she's kind, but she is an incredibly old fashioned woman. Didn't agree with the lifestyle that me and David led, not one single bit. Did I ever tell you about the first time I met your mother?'
'No, what happened?'
'Well, we'd all gone down to that Chinese restaurant up the road, Gordon's Island. It was me, your mother, your father and your grandparents. The minute I shook hands with your Dad, I felt welcome. I felt accepted, a feeling that I hadn't really felt before. My own mother was a chronic alcoholic, and my Dad was rarely around, so it was nice to feel so welcome. That's the kind of man that your father was, Charlie. He was kind, and he was loving. Still to this day, I have never met another man quite like your father, and I'm not sure that I ever will.'
Charlie smiled, and Pierce carried on.
'But your mother, well, what can I say? The first time we met, she looked me up and down and laughed. She didn't offer a smile, she didn't shake my hand, she laughed.'
'Did you ask her why?' Charlie asked.
'I did, and I can't say I was too pleased with the answer.'
'What did she say?'
'Not a lot, but what she did say was cruel. It hurt, and your father actually ended up apologising for it. Charlie, I want you to know that your mother was not a bad person. She just wasn't. And believe me, I could sit here all night and talk about people that I don't get along with, and I could tell you all of their individual flaws. Your mother just wasn't a bad person, it wasn't in her nature to be cruel. She wasn't very tolerant, that was Irene's problem, and I suppose that that's quite a common problem in today's society.'
'Uncle Pierce, what did she say to you?'
'She said that I wasn't good enough. She told me that I could never be good enough for her brother, and then she just scoffed in my face. But I'm not telling you this to make you think badly of your mother—'
'I could never think badly of her,' Charlie said, drawing up a mental picture of his Mum's face as he spoke. 'She was my hero, and she always will be. I love her so much.'
'I know that,' said Pierce, 'but listen, I'm just trying to make you aware. There's a lot of hate i this world, and such hate can be distributed by seemingly good people.'
'Seemingly?'
'Your Mum was a good person, and her legacy will be around forever. She's still with you, Charlie, she's still there.'
'What do you mean, seemingly?'
'That came out wrong, I didn't mean "seemingly." I meant that your mother, and thousands of people like her, can still be good people with some frankly archaic views. But if there's one thing I know for sure, your mother will be remembered. Always.'
'I'm sorry if I sounded snappy, Uncle. I'm just broken. My Mum is my everything, was my everything, and now she's gone. She's never coming back to life, and I need to learn that.'
'Hey, hey,' Pierce said, 'Don't be like that, son. Look, Irene - I mean, your mother - was one of the kindest women around. She loved you with all of her heart, you know.'
Charlie looked across to his Uncle.
'But if my Mum loved me so much then why did she take her own life?'
In a way, Pierce felt sorry for Charlie. He was clearly desperate, desperate for answers, and Pierce almost felt as if he couldn't answer his nephew's questions.
He turned to face his nephew, who was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. 'Charlie, it's okay. Look, it's all okay, I promise. There's just some questions that you can't answer in life, and I suppose this is one of them. I can try my best to answer them, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I can answer them. Do you understand what I'm saying?'
'I do,' Charlie said in between sobs. 'I understand. I just want to know what made her so unhappy. I want to know what pushed my own Mum so far over the edge.'
'Depression is a silent killer. It could've been one small thing or a million big things. There really is no way of knowing. But it was nothing to do with you, and I know for a fact that you made her as happy as it was possible to be. Just like you made your Uncle David happy, and just like you make me happy. You're a credit to us all Charlie, you really are. We love you, and no matter what happens to this family we stick together, through thick and thin. Got it?'
Charlie wiped his eyes. 'Got it.'
'Good,' said Pierce, who was now reaching for the remote control. 'I think we both need a little cheering up. Say, how do you fancy a night of cheesy romance films? You can pick the first, and I'll pick the second.
'No way,' Charlie replied. 'Not a chance in hell.'
'Good, me neither,' said Pierce. 'Just testing.'