“STICKS AND STONES”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” A fine sentiment perhaps but they certainly hurt Simon Grimes and led eventually to the breaking of more than a few bones. One of my deepest regrets in life is that I, albeit unwittingly, threw the final stone.

As is his wont, just as I walked out the door that Friday evening my boss found something that absolutely had to be discussed. Having missed one train already I was determined not to miss a second and consequently I threw myself through the compartment door just as the train pulled out of the station. Nowadays of course with integrated carriages and electronic doors such a manoeuvre would be impossible but at the time this event took place manual doors and separate compartments were still the norm.

‘Phew, made it,’ I said to nobody in particular.

‘By the skin of your teeth,’ replied a voice.

The voice belonged to the compartment’s only other occupant, a young man probably much the same age as me.

‘This week has been long enough already,’ I offered by way of an explanation. ‘There’s a pint down the pub with my name on it.’

The stranger laughed; ‘I know exactly what you mean.’

I don’t usually converse with strangers but somehow I found myself immediately warming to him. Indeed, for the first forty minutes of the journey we talked freely, about work and holidays, weekends and football. On first impression he seemed warm and friendly, confident enough to talk yet equally confident to listen. I on the other hand have little confidence and consequently I sometimes resort to making what I mistakenly believe to be witty remarks. It was just such a remark that gave rise to the regret I spoke of earlier.

‘By the way,’ said the stranger. ‘My name is Simon Grimes.’

The temptation to be funny was too much to ignore, the chasm of regret was about to open up before me. ‘I bet they called you “Grimey Simey” at school.’

The moment the words left my mouth the stranger’s face fell.

‘Actually they did,’ he replied slowly. ‘That and “Slimey Grimey”’

‘”Slimey Grimey”,’ I chuckled, blind to the pained look on Simon’s face. ‘That’s a good one.’

‘I didn’t think so,’ he replied quietly.

‘Ah yes,’ I said ploughing on regardless. ‘But that was years ago; it surely can’t effect you now.’

‘It wasn’t just the name, it was the way people treated me. They pretended I was smelly and dirty, they stepped around me in the corridor and they recoiled in mock horror if I so much as brushed against them. Even one of the teachers called me “Slimey”. It was awful.’

‘The P.E. teacher no doubt,’ I offered.

‘When I went to grammar school it just got worse; there was a whole new group of kids to call me names. No one called me Simon any more. I lost all my self confidence, my self esteem was on the floor, I actually began to believe what they were saying about me.’

‘What about when you left school, things must have changed then?’

‘I hoped they would. Most of my classmates stayed on into the sixth form or got jobs; I went to college instead. No one in my class knew me; I started to feel better about myself.’

Simon paused for a moment in his narrative but I now felt loath to interrupt, aware that I had been the catalyst for this painful visitation from his past.

‘A group of us were in the canteen one day when up walked a guy from my school. He was in a different faculty to me so we hadn’t crossed paths before.

“My god,” he said to the people sitting with me. “It’s old “Slimey.” You better watch yourselves, you might catch something.”

‘With that he laughed and walked away. In that one second my world came crashing down around me. Convinced my torment was about to start all over again I walked out of the canteen and out of the college. I never went back.

‘Work was no different. I know for a fact that one company turned me down for a job because of it. They asked me why I left college without completing the course; I gave some feeble excuse, but I guess they knew it was a lie. The rest of the interview was a disaster.

‘When I did get a job I had no self belief whatsoever. I felt I really had to push myself, to prove the doubters wrong. My private life was a joke, I couldn’t interact with people, I was painfully shy, I was convinced that everyone was laughing at me. I had a girlfriend once, but one of her friends knew me from school. I overheard them talking about me, I accused her of being as bad as the rest of them. She wasn’t of course but by then I had ruined everything.

‘The job went from bad to worse; I truly believed I wasn’t up to it. If a project was ninety-nine percent good I convinced myself that it was one hundred percent bad. I worked harder and longer until finally something had to give. I had a breakdown.’

‘How are you now?’ I asked feebly.

‘I’m getting back on track. I’ve started a new job, the people are nice. I get by.’

He lapsed into embarrassed silence.

Ten minutes later the train entered a tunnel, the carriage plunging into sudden darkness. That silence was violently broken by the crashing of an open door and the rushing of the wind. Scant moments later the train came out the other side; Simon Grimes was gone.

At the next station I jumped off the train before it had even stopped, sprinting to the driver’s cab to tell him what had happened. They found Simon’s body in the mouth of the tunnel.

I never told anyone of our conversation so the coroner could never say definitively that it was suicide, although fingerprints on the door handle proved that Simon had opened the door himself. With no evidence to the contrary I was never considered to be a suspect in his death, but late at night I am besieged by guilt. If only my boss hadn’t made me late, if only I had got into a different compartment, if only I hadn’t mentioned “Grimey Simey”.

I often wonder if any of those others from Simon’s past are kept awake by similar doubts. Are they even aware of the eventual result of their taunting? Sticks and stones may indeed break your bones but names can break something much more vital, they can break your spirit.

COPYRIGHT DM PAMMENT OCTOBER 2007