First Person

I knew it was him the minute I started reading the article – even though he only used his first name, I think that’s how they refer to themselves in Alcoholics Anonymous. That was what it was all about – growing up with a violent alcoholic father – how frightening and confusing it was – never knowing when the explosions of anger would come. Matt –the coolest, best-looking, cleverest, funniest person I knew. Ask anyone, even now, half a lifetime later, and they have the same memories of him.

A picture jumps into my head. He’s waiting for me outside my tutors – his long lazy body is propped up against the wall and he’s smoking a cigarette, a half amused expression on his face. A single gold earring is shining through the mass of dark curly hair, and as I get closer, I can see the scuffs on his leather jacket. I smile, looking forward to his warm arms, a fast ride to Kenwood, slipping in and out of the rush hour traffic, and that secret place we go to where there’s just enough shelter from the wind to knock out a couple of lines of sulphate.

When he sees me he doesn’t say anything at first, just raises an eyebrow, and throws his cigarette butt onto the pavement. We kiss passionately, and all the other students have to step around us in order to start their walk to the tube. We make the perfect couple.

I am very successfully starving myself, so I am very thin as well as quite pretty. I’ve decided that I want to go to university before I become a brilliant journalist, and I’ve managed to convince several good ones to offer me a place. I’m not actually working – I can’t really concentrate on that kind of thing – but hopefully I’ll be able to wing it – do a bit of cramming just before the exams. It should be fairly easy. It’s always worked before.

I am very focussed about food – you have to be. I eat one cracker a day, very, very slowly and reluctantly, and one small slice of cheese. I drink a lot of black coffee and I chew gum. I have absolutely no idea about dieting so I am making it up as I go along. I’m doing quite well so far. It’s all a state of mind – you can make yourself do all sorts of things if you put your mind to it. Being able to makes me feel powerful and strong – like I am on top of things – in control. I like it.

Matt is so cool that none of the usual rules apply for him – speed restrictions, authority, the law – he doesn’t bother with any of these things – they’re beneath him. He is very clever, but he doesn’t see the need to get pieces of paper to prove it. He is sailing through life on the back of his humour and a very rich uncle who owns a newspaper.

By the time he’s my boyfriend though, the rich uncle has unfortunately had enough of Matt, and has just told him to go and find a job somewhere else, and come back when he’s grown up a little. So Matt is on the dole at the moment, which isn’t all bad, because it means he comes to meet me after school.

No-one’s ever at Kenwood at that time of year – it’s far too cold. We don’t do much – just sit on the benches, talking, and sometimes we chase each other, laughing, down to the lake where they play concerts on summer evenings. Matt is lazy, but he has such long legs that he’s always miles ahead of me – I’m rubbish at running, even on sulphate.

When I catch up with him, my heart is pounding so hard I think it might burst, and he catches me in his arms and we exchange chewing gum flavoured kisses. He is the funniest person I’ve ever met - sometimes he just has to look at me, raising one eyebrow, and I can’t stop laughing. I would so much rather spend time with him like this than be anywhere else. All around we can see signs that the spring will be here soon. Life is perfect.

I force my eyes back to the newspaper article. He’s talking about the violence – the rages and the unpredictably. He gives a calm and reasoned description, as if he’s spent a lot of time thinking about it over the years. I remember him telling me parts of this when we were teenagers, although he put a different spin on it then of course. We had all our lives to look forward to – our brilliant future. We’d do so much better - nothing could go wrong.