Chapter 9 chapter eight

With most of the cash stripped by Jackson, Acland stopped at an ATM on the way to the subway station.He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, opened it, but just as his thumb found the Switch savings card in the slot, he noticed that Robert Willis' business card was in the wrong place.It used to go on the back of the Amex card, but now it's placed with the Switch card. He could picture Jackson digging through his wallet to find someone to call, and he knew she had found a therapist she couldn't resist.What had Willis told her?What did she tell Willis again? "Your patient exhibits psychopathic tendencies, Doctor."

"Did you warn him that a head injury would dampen his moral sense?" "Did you know that when you judged him physically and mentally fit to leave the hospital, he wasn't functioning normally?" Ackland asked himself why he kept Willis's card, except that it was a link—however subtle—to the day when his military career ended.Perhaps, too, he had hoped that one day, when everything was going well, he would send a positive message to the doctor, as if in his subconscious mind, the good opinion of the therapist was important to him.Now, however, Willis knew, and every gloomy prediction he made came true: Ackland was a loner, suspiciously paranoid, erratic with recurring head pains.

In the rapidly stretching line behind him, someone turned and left impatiently.He inserted the savings card, entered the PIN, and thought Willis would call his parents, or give Jackson his parents' phone number, and the sweat of humiliation dripped down his back.Did they know their son was running amok in a London pub?God! He felt someone poking his back. "Do you still want to take the money, boy, or do you just want to see it?" Akram took a breath through his nose, resisting the urge to turn around and punch the man in the face.He murmured an apology, pulled out a wad of £20 notes from the metal card slot of the cash machine, stuffed them into his wallet, and turned to leave.

Another poke in the back. "You forgot to take your card." If it wasn't for the old man's voice obviously coming from an old man, the scene from the night before would have happened again.Still, Akram turned quickly and grabbed the arthritic finger before it could poke him again. "Stop poking!" he said through gritted teeth, staring into the old man's overly mucous eyes. The octogenarian snapped his fingers angrily, "I'm trying to help you bro, but come on...leave the card. Do you think I'd care if someone took all your savings?" "I don't like people touching me."

Old people aren't the type to be scared off so easily, "then put a sticker on your back. Not many people will realize you're a grumpy jerk if we stand behind you. People want to see You can only understand this after seeing your face." Ackland crossed the road and stood in the shadow of a sycamore.He was prepared for a long wait—even a lull, hoping the anger would dissipate—but, instead, he gave up the prominent spot after 15 minutes.The old man is right.His temper is wicked.When the attack happened, there was no sympathy in his heart, only rising frustrated anger.So what?He thought numbly and relentlessly.So what?

The house he rents is a restored Victorian townhouse, and he lives in the lower of two units.Back in the room, he tore up Willis' business card, and not satisfied, he put the pieces in the ashtray and burned them.Then he went into the small garden attached to the apartment, lit a celebratory bonfire, and burned everything that connected him to the army-commission letters, pay stubs, regiment documents, medical board reports, etc.He would have even thrown his old military uniform into the flames if a woman upstairs hadn't shouted from the window that his behavior was illegal. Ackram took a breath to compose himself, and, shielding his eyes with his hand, looked up at her.He had avoided this woman as much as possible, because she had been overly courting him since the day he rented the house, and she was behaving in a way that reminded him of Jane.He could tolerate any other tenant, but not a woman who demanded constant attention.

She had come to his door that day with a bottle of wine, entered uninvited, shortened his name to Charlie, and insisted that he also be called her nickname, Mimi.He soon learns that she is a 35-year-old divorced woman with two children, that her ex-husband was a cheating jerk, that she is lonely, that she thinks Charlie's blindfolds are "cute," that she enjoys outdoor nightlife, that she Go out at night anytime, as long as someone else is paying. Akram tried his best to be polite—he was going to spend six months as a neighbor to this woman—and after an hour of trying, Akram's responses became more and more curt and curt.She has nothing to attract him.She even looks like Jen.The blond, fair-skinned, lanky figure wrapped in skinny jeans and a cropped top, the big, mascara-smeared eyes, pretty and hollow.She drank most of the bottle, but couldn't control the fits, changing the subject abruptly, alternately insulting her ex-husband's new wife, and telling Charlie awkwardly and vaguely that she found him attractive.When she coyly asks him if she's stayed too long to be unpopular, he gives a curt "yes" and her mask slips off abruptly.

Lively flirtations immediately give way to gnashing hostility.She just wanted to be friendly, what kind of woman did he think she was?Akram listened, without saying a word, thinking, what on earth did she expect from him?sex?praise?Whatever it was, he had gone from "adorable" to "disgusting" in her eyes by the time she stumbled to his door. Her subsequent resentment was manifested in small nuisance behavior - making annoying noises from upstairs, throwing litter randomly in the garden, or in front of his house, when he went out or came back, deadly Stare at him.On the surface, he showed an indifferent attitude of indifference, but in his heart, her behavior was bit by bit swallowing up the fragile respect he still had for women.The whole experience had a dangerously negative effect on a man as lonely as Acklan.In the end, her only fruit is to exacerbate his distrust of women.

He saw movement in the window of the room next to hers and turned his gaze from Mimi to the elderly neighbor.It was difficult to tell from the discontented expression on the old man's face whether his resentment was due to the bonfire or Mimi's endless accusations against Acklan. "You're a fucking idiot! If you don't wipe out that bloody pile, I'll call the police!" Mimi finished her complaint angrily. Behind her, Akram glimpsed the anxious face of a child. "Go ahead," he said, "it's not illegal, it's just not advocated when someone like you is complaining. There's more to the police than explaining to a screaming old vixen that what she's reporting is legal." There are more important things to do." He saw the child tugging at her sleeve, and quickly dodged to avoid being poked fiercely by her elbow.

"It's summer, for God's sake," she hissed. "Do you know what the temperature is? If sparks set fire to the fence, we'll all be burned. Can't you see? Or you and he?" Are you blind in both eyes?" Akram looked at the fire. "It's under control," he muttered, nudging the remnants of a cardboard folder with his foot into the dying flames. "No it's not like that. My baby is choking on the fumes. You want me to sue you when he has asthma? You bloody selfish. Didn't they teach you when you were in the military Are you climate change?"

"That doesn't make any sense. When an oil well blows up, you don't count the pollutants, you just count the bodies. Have you ever seen a person burned to the bone while still alive? The smell is So strong, you can't get within ten yards without a respirator on. All you can do is watch the poor bastard die...it's not much fun." "Keep your voice down," she said angrily, "I don't want kids having nightmares." "Then don't make a fuss, as if a small fire in London is more dangerous than the wars that are going on in Iraq and Afghanistan. Every time a tornado rages and flies, the ozone layer will take a big blow." Slow Melt, Curly, "War destroys everything. Better your kids understand this now. It will give them a chance to enjoy themselves before the world turns into a flame." But she's not interested in philosophy, "with I don't need you to tell me how to raise kids. At least they don't run around the streets half naked holding their heads in the fucking middle of the night screaming. You're crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if you were the gay killer. You're psychotic enough to do that." Ackland had never realized that his horrific awakening from a nightmare would be loud enough to penetrate the floors above.He squinted at her again, "What gay killer?" "Don't pretend you don't know." He stared at her intently, then stomped on the ashes with his shoes. "You should see a therapist," he said, "and someone should tell you that men don't want to have sex with you, not because they're gay, but because you're a woman who turns men off. Your husband leaves you The facts prove this.” "Bastard!" She threw something at him—a china ornament—but missed, slamming into the weeds by the fence. "You don't know me at all." Akram's fingers were itching, and he wanted to pick up the "missile" and fire it back—he would never miss—but he controlled himself. "I know enough, so much that I don't want to know more." He walked towards the French windows of the house, with a sudden decision, "I'll pack up and get out of here right away." Once inside the house he regretted his impulsiveness.With five months left on the lease, he will pay rent for an empty house until a real estate agent is willing to advertise for him to find another tenant.But what has been said cannot be taken back.If he changed his mind, the shrew upstairs would taunt him to his heart's content. In any case, he knew he couldn't go on like this.Something has to change.The intermittent headaches were sometimes unbearable for him.He resists the urge to take Jackson's offer to live with her.If he had imagined that Mimi would gloat over his change of mind, he could have imagined what Jackson would have said if he had crawled back with his tail between his legs within twenty-four hours.He preferred to listen to the voice of Robert Willis in his head, although burning his card had originally meant cutting ties with the man. "We can all go out, Charles - it's a fashionable thing to do now - it really takes courage to walk back." Another impulsive decision: He called a cab and told the driver the street where Susan Campbell lived. "What's the house number, old man?" "I don't remember. Just drive slowly when you get there. I know the gate and I'll know it when I see it." "OK." Twenty minutes later, after walking up and down the street three times, the taxi driver pulled into the parking space and turned around.His expression was wary, as if he had begun to suspect that the passenger's disfigured face reflected some inner distortion. "We could go around like this all afternoon, man, but the meter is ticking, and I need proof you have money to pay me. Guess you're looking for a place to sleep...but this The place isn't in the car." Akram sighed and took out his wallet. "I know which house it is. I just don't know whether to go in or not." He said, counting the fare. The driver became more understanding after seeing the cash, "I feel the same way every time I pick up the kids from my ex-wife." Ackland handed him a twenty-pound note, "I'm sure you don't know where there are cheap hotels? I don't care where in London." "How cheap?" "30 pounds a night." The driver laughed, "You must be joking. It's peak travel season. If you're lucky you might find the best deal somewhere, but just driving around to find it will cost you a fortune .If you have a laptop, you can probably find it online, but I wouldn't bet on it. Hotels in London are expensive." "What about a bar?" "Same problem." The driver handed over the change, "If I were you, I would stay here for one night and think about it tomorrow morning. Thank you." He pocketed the tip from Aklan, Looking at him with sympathetic eyes, "Why don't you want to go in? What is waiting for you inside?" "Good question." Aklan smiled wryly, opened the car door, and got out of the car with his travel bag. "But you don't know the answer or are you unwilling to tell me? Mom or wife?" "almost." "It's the difference between the sexes, man. The men are happy to throw their hands up and get whipped... the women insist on checking his bloody insides. If you don't believe me, ask my ex-wife. Every time I When she saw her, she wanted to pull out my intestines." He drove the car out and waved goodbye. Ackland slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked the fifty yards to Susan Campbell's house. "You said I could come back anytime," he reminded her when she opened the door. "Did you really mean that?" She looked more like a housemaid than a therapist.There was a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, and her gray hair was casually tied on top of her head with a big red hairpin. This poor image did not explain anything.Akram knew from the last time she stayed here that there was a real tough and strong heart hidden under her messy, garrulous surface. "Is it safe for you to come in?" "The family is as complete as I used to be." "Hmm. It just seems like you got into the habit of attacking people before you first came to me." She commented on him succinctly, before opening the door. "We've been talking about you on the phone." "I guessed it." He followed her to the porch. "News seems to travel faster in the NHS than in the army. What did the doctor say?" Susan led him into the living room, where several paying guests were watching TV, and she took him to the kitchen, where she stubbed out a cigarette in an already overstuffed ashtray on the dining table. "Say you attacked a Muslim who was fat, but it didn't offend anyone, he never even lifted anything heavier than a pen." "I did almost kill him." "Is that why you're here? Are you afraid you'll do something like this again?" "Maybe." Susan pulled out a chair and signaled Aklan to sit down, "Sit down. I'll make you a cup of tea." She picked up the kettle and hurriedly said, "Is there any other reason for you to come here?" Ackland sat down. "I had to leave the apartment, but I can't think of anywhere else to go. I'm only staying for one night. I'll find a new place tomorrow." "What happened in the apartment?" "No. I just don't like that woman upstairs." Susan poured boiling water on the tea bag and fiddled with it with a spoon, "Did you fight with her?" "It's just a war of words. If a guy doesn't want to sleep with her, she'll be uncomfortable." Susan struggled to decipher his response. "It's really difficult when people don't want to accept the fact that they were rejected." "Yes." He thanked her for the tea, but he didn't seem interested and just put it on the table, "What else did the doctor say?" "Speaking of your height, you're dangerously underweight." "How would he know? I haven't seen him in weeks." Akram stared at her for a moment. "You should tell him not to believe everything Jackson says. That woman is as strong as a whale. Compared to her , she probably thought everyone was dangerously underweight." Susan tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and continued as if she hadn't heard Acklan's words: "Say you don't have a job, and you have a lot of free time... say you think too much, and your thoughts are blocked." Misleading...that someone should kick you in the ass to remind you that you are a functioning human being." She opened the refrigerator and looked inside carefully, "Right now I don't have enough food, but I Could make a cheese sandwich. What do you think?" "Damn!" he said curtly. "Which doctor are you talking to?" "They both said it." "And what about patient privacy?" "No violation at all. All three of us treated you at the same or different times." She took a slice of cheddar cheese from a shelf and some bread from a clay pot. "Your body can't function without food." Run, Charles. It's basic mechanics. If this goes on, you're going to be severely malnourished. How much weight have you lost since you left the hospital?" "I don't know. I don't have a scale in my apartment." She pulled a knife from a drawer and started cutting bread. "If the engine overheats, the vehicle won't run properly, so why don't you try to control your migraine instead of letting it control you?" "Migraines don't control me. I've found ways to accept and live with it." "So what happened last night..." "That fight wasn't caused by a migraine...it was because of a loud stupid bastard who poked me in the shoulder. And it wasn't just because he was Muslim. When I got money at the bank this morning, an old white man used Finger poked me and I almost beat his head in the same way. I don't like people touching me." "I saw it the last time you were here." She smiled slightly, "but I didn't ask what made you lose your temper, Charles, I asked how you coped with the pain. Say you can accept and It's one thing to live with a migraine, but to suffer such a painful and debilitating attack in a public place that a doctor must intervene is quite another." "It's never going to happen again. If they let me finish my beer quietly, I'll be fine." "I'm skeptical. Alcohol on an empty stomach is one of the main triggers...Also, strenuous exercise without regular fluid intake...Chronic guilt-ridden stress...Sleep patterns disrupted by nightmares...Yes Drug refusal. Do you want me to go on?" "No need." He silently watched her prepare a sandwich for him, "I've heard enough reprimands and reprimands for my life." He said suddenly annoyed, "Everyone I meet has an opinion ...even taxi drivers." Susan chuckled softly, "So what do you want from me? A hug? If I do that, you're going to catalepsy." She shook the butter knife at him, "You know very well that you're What am I going to get here... You tell Robert that I'm bossy and meddling. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to learn a lesson." Akram crunched and squeezed his knuckles. "Go on, then," he said reluctantly, "I'm ready. Give me your best swearing." "Hmm." She shook her head and pushed the plate of sandwiches towards him. "I'm just an intermediary. You need medical attention, Charles. When you finish eating, I'll call a taxi and take you to a doctor." He looked at her suspiciously, "I'd rather be with you." "It's a Friday night in August, Charles. All my beds are rented out for the weekend." "Which doctor?" "How many doctors do you know in London?"