Weighted Minds

I’m in the city with friends for a night out, we meet up every once in a while to catch up. Gone are the days of drinking with each other every Saturday night. A Christmas market meet-up with everyone who can get away from the children and family duties, and another in the summer, if we’re lucky.

We usually go to Birmingham some time in December, but we’re in a different city this year. They’re all the same though; tall, dark towers sprouting up in all directions, people dressed up smartly, or at least trying to, and that blurred vision one gets when staring into the bright multi-coloured neon lights for too long.

We’re not actually at the Christmas market itself, though. It’s too busy and, more importantly, too expensive. We’re on our way to the next pub on our mini pub crawl, and I see a woman in front of me. We fall into a natural conversation and decide to go somewhere by ourselves. I wasn’t overly keen on getting sloshed tonight, so this is perfect. Maybe I’m just saying that now because I’ve met her.

She’s beautiful, I’m not sure where she’s from, North Africa perhaps. Turkey? We walk down the street, there are no cars or roads around, it’s some sort of pedestrian area, with wooden benches and steel sculptures, and a modern looking water feature. She looks back at me smiling. Truly, stunning. She’s about my height, gleaming white teeth, a pretty smile, cheek bones and jaw lines from a blockbuster.

She momentarily walks backwards while looking at me, laughing flirtatiously at something I said. She glides while walking, why am I the lucky one? She seems the type that everyone would want to be with. I feel drunk, but I haven’t started to drink yet. She says she doesn’t drink, so I take her to a part of the city that I used to live in ten years ago. It’s a hotel, I stayed here while I looked for work and a place to live more permanently. There used to be a nice restaurant inside.

Inside, I realise it will be too late for me to take the train back home. A staff member at the desk asks what I’ll be needing. I ask for a table and a room. The woman I’ve already fallen for gets flustered and wants to go somewhere else that she’s heard about. I say that’s fine, and follow her.

You idiot. Why did you order a table and a room at the same time? That surely meant only one thing to her, you nearly scared her off. She’s not that type of woman. Who is she though? I feel like we’ve connected tonight, but I can’t remember any of our conversations. Something’s not right.

We’re leaving the pedestrian area, with the water feature, I think. She goes off ahead of me quickly and asks another woman at a bus stop for directions. She points over to the left, and we’re there, just a few metres from the road down a brightly-lit alleyway. There’s some sort of open patio, or courtyard, wedged between two or three buildings. A small crowd is gathered, a few with drinks in their hands, others with bags and suitcases.

A little bit of grass here and there, designed purposely, the floor a pebble mosaic. A shallow amount of water, fifty centimetres wide, ran the length of the courtyard. That’s a bit dangerous, it looks easy to step in there. We’re standing in between the entrances to those buildings, and there is some kind of welcoming performance. A small group of people are singing a delightful song. Maybe they’re Maori?

All of a sudden the two gentlemen standing in front of me, dressed in smart casual black attire and with camera equipment, are abruptly grabbed and hauled through the entrance to the right. The performance continues undisturbed. A few more of those standing in the courtyard are restrained and aggressively bundled through the doors.

Strangely, there are some who go on watching the performance, seemingly oblivious to the frightening scenes around them. The mystery woman being one of them. I was also snatched, though I do not remember being so.

I’m sitting just the other side of the doors in a small room with high stools and tables. Is this a bar? I don’t think so. All the lights are on. It’s not quite a living room and not quite a foyer. There were stairs going down a few steps, which then took a left turn and went down twice as far again. There was some shouting and screaming coming up from there, and some pleading too.

I’m sitting on a stool with my back to the corner, someone is to my left, is it the woman? I want to leave but know I cannot. There’s no point in trying. I don’t know why, I just do. There’s one or two big men, like bouncers, in the room, and another who I can’t see at the entrance. The doors are closed now. I can’t see all that well. Did I get knocked on the head? I don’t wear glasses, do I?

Someone comes to grab me, I instinctively kick out. I grab on to my stool, bring my knees up to my chest and get ready to defend myself with my legs once more. The woman next to me shouts at him not to take me. They have enough people already, she says. A couple of other victims walk around, unsure of what to do next. Their belongings taken and their sense of security vanished.

Everything goes blindingly white, and somehow I know the police haven’t done anything when told.

I’m back home now and it’s a few days later, maybe a week. My phone rings and I answer it. It’s someone who was part of the scam, they have my number. They know everything about me and who my family is. My niece and nephew, my parents. I realise I’ll never escape. They’ll always have a hold over me.

Things aren’t making sense. I go back to the same location and confront them. I tell them that what they’re doing is wrong but they pay me no heed. They don’t care, it’s just a job for them.

A street or two away I’m in a little gated park. It contains the usual, a path, a pond, a planted tree here and there. I’m a little out of breath as I guess I jogged there. I shout out about the thieves, the abusers. There are rows of people walking outside the park and on the roof of the building across the road. That seemed normal to me. They all stop dead, turn to face me, and stare. I throw my hands up in despair and defeat.

I find myself in another part of the park. I’ve unwittingly joined a group of other people who were there on that day and other days too, who had the same experience. They walk around listlessly, without direction. A few people carry multiple plastic bags stuffed with unknown contents. One is carrying a grandfather clock over their shoulder. A man carries a dark, wooden table and his wife a rocking chair.

Is this where I belong? Can I ever go home? I’m about to join them in their meandering when I look to my left. A couple, lying on a bench each. Bags and bags are piled up high on each of their bodies, burdened by their possessions, eyes closed, unmoving, clenching.