Page 48 of Common People

Max looked at his parents one last time, tears now falling down his face, pleading with his dad to hear what was coming, to make a last-ditch manoeuvre so they would be saved. If only he heard, and did something, but they were busy talking about a Cornish pasty they had in St Ives, smiling, listening to the radio, completely unaware of what was about to happen next. All the wonderful, beautiful years of their lives, about to be wiped out in seconds.

Max looked and saw that the lorry was about to hit them, and it was all in slow motion. One last look at his parents, at the people he loved so much, and then it happened. It was so hard there was no way his dad could have done anything to stop it. The car was immediately pushed forwards, and towards thebarrier at the side of the road. The lorry was still against them, the horrible noise of metal on metal, of tyres screeching, of the screams of his mum, and then they hit the barrier, and the car was flying through the air. It was all happening in slow motion. Max saw them ahead of him, his parents, still in their seatbelts, still alive, but the car was mid-air, spinning, and he watched as the car hit the ground, going into normal speed again.

As the car hit the ground, everything changed and suddenly became so brutal, so physical. They were thrown around, the car breaking apart at the moment of impact. It rolled, so violently, spinning over and over, the noise was unbearable. It was how he imagined the sound of war in World War One, of machinery, of metal and horrible destruction. Max watched it all, and then the car stopped as it hit a tree. In a matter of seconds, they had gone from driving along the motorway to stopped dead, wrapped around a tree, the car in pieces, his parents dead in the seats ahead of him. Max had seen it all, and he was still watching, tears streaming down his face.

‘Mum? Dad? Are you alive? Can you hear me? Hello?’ he asked, but it was too late, he hadn’t been able to prevent them from dying. Instead, he sat in his seat, the seatbelt still pulled tight against him, and he cried. It all seemed so real, so visceral, and he could feel it, smell it, see the smoke rising from the car and the blood on his parents ahead of him. Then he felt something else, and heard a different voice like a faraway echo.

‘Max, wake up, pal. Max!’ A hand was on his shoulder, shaking him, and then he woke up.

‘What happened?’ asked Max, completely unaware of where he was, or what had happened.

‘Youse were dreaming, pal,’ said Robbie, sitting next to him on his parents’ old sofa. Max looked across and saw an empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. ‘What happened? Youse weresupposed to come back to London. Youse missed your date with Bethan. Everyone’s worried about youse, pal.’

‘I don’t know,’ said a dazed and still drunk Max. ‘What time is it? How long was I asleep?’

‘It’s almost five o’clock. When youse missed your date, Bethan called me, and that’s when I tracked your phone. Youse left the front door open, pal, and it looks like youse drank most of a bottle of vodka. What happened?’

Max slowly sat up, a searing pain in his head, and then it came to him. For a moment after he woke, he was still remembering the accident and everything that had happened. For that uncertain moment between asleep and awake, he still felt the emotion of being in that car with his parents. The terror of their final moments.

‘I went to my parents’ grave.’

‘I know. It’s what youse came back here for.’

‘And he was there.’

‘Who?’

‘The driver of the lorry that killed them.’

‘What the fuck, pal. Why was he there?’

‘To say sorry, he said, but I lost it,’ said Max, looking across at Robbie. ‘Just seeing him for the first time, it was like I was back then, and I wanted to hurt him. I did, but Mark, the vicar, was there, and so I left. I came back here, and that’s when I started drinking. I’m sorry.’

‘Pal, it’s all right. I understand. I would probably have done the same.’

‘Bethan,’ said Max suddenly, almost as if he was realising for the first time that he had missed their date.

‘I’ll call her and tell her what happened, and that youse all right. Then I’m going to sober youse up,’ said Robbie, who stood up, looking at Max on the sofa. ‘Don’t worry, pal, it’s going to be all right.’

As Robbie left the room, Max sat and he could still feel the effects of the dream, and the memory of meeting Barry in the graveyard. Then he thought of Bethan and the date they were supposed to go on, and he hated himself for missing it. He hated Barry even more for putting him through what had happened. How had the day gone so badly wrong? It had started with such promise and he was so happy, so excited, and now it felt like he was back to the days and weeks after the accident, the image of his parents in the car fixed in his brain. Then he felt it within his stomach, he was going to be sick. He stood up, dashing to the loo under the stairs, closing the door behind him, before he kneeled down and threw up everything inside of him.

After a few minutes, he flushed the toilet, washed his hands and then made his way into the kitchen, where Robbie was waiting for him.

‘Youse all right, pal?’

‘No, not really, mate. Did you call Bethan?’

‘Aye, and she’s just glad youse OK. I made coffee. There wasnae milk, so its black, but probably a good thing in your condition.’

Max walked across, sat down and took the coffee from Robbie. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be daft. Something terrible happened, and you had a wee moment of weakness. It doesnae mean all the good work you’ve done is wasted.’

Max took a sip of the coffee, but he wasn’t sure whether Robbie was right or not. Was everything undone because of one day? It wasn’t even the drinking that made him worry, it was the way in which he had fallen apart so quickly that frightened him. The way he had met the man who had killed his parents, and within an hour was drinking a bottle of vodka alone, crying on the sofa, and then falling into a dream where he watched his parents die. All the months of getting better, of joining CommonPeople, of starting a business with Robbie, of falling for Bethan, of making new friends, and thinking that he was finally in the last stage of grief, and all of it was so easily derailed by one horrible moment. It made him feel like everything solid he had built up over the last couple of months, all the gains he had made, all of it wasn’t quite so solid as he had thought. Perhaps it was just a momentary lapse as Robbie had said, a wee moment of weakness, or maybe it was something far more damaging.

I can’t do this right now

After Sunday and the awful thing that had happened, Max returned to work on Monday, spoke with Bethan on the phone and apologised so many times, but on Tuesday evening before run club, everything still felt off. His life that had been feeling more and more level, was once again, at an angle. His head was still feeling the effects of the weekend, and just before he was about to head off to run club, he drank a glass of water and took a couple of aspirin. Robbie was still at the sandwich shop, getting everything ready for opening day, and just before Max walked out the door, his phone rang. He looked down and saw it was a call from his estate agent, Tanya.