Where the bad ones live

 

 

Duck and Bobi had agreed to meet up in town.  It was late morning, early spring and the only notable thing about the weather was that rain was on its way.  Again. 

Bobi had been to the job centre.

It’s no right, he said.  They keep threatening to take money off me benefits, for not looking hard enough for a job.  But I says to them, I says I dinnae mind working, but who is gonna take care of me Ma when I’m away all day?  I says to them she cannae be in the house on her own. She can hardly get out of a chair. They say get a carer in and I says I am her carer.  But that’s a job for the Social Work department and they need to get their targets and they have nae money so I need to find a job or get benefit cuts and find a way to care for me Ma. They tell me it is a good experience, and I should put it on my CV- being a carer.  So I can get a paid job taking care of old or sick folk and someone else can come in and get paid for caring for me ma.  Nae brains, man. It’s no right.

Duck made affirmative noises; then burst into a racking cough. Bobi gave him a slap on the back – it didn’t help.

I always feel dirty and a cheat when I’ve been to the job centre.  They look at you thinking you are a piece of dirt.  Easy for them, they are in a good job.  Plenty unemployed to keep them in a job. They see my address and say: so you live in the scheme? And you hear them think: where the bad ones live.

Who is with y’r Ma now? Said Duck, now recovered from the coughing.

Oh, me auntie Mo.  They like a good natter now and then, tearing shreds off the rest of the fam’ly. She doesnae mind, and it gives me a few hours for doing something else and do the messages as well.

They passed a florist and Bobi looked at the display.

I’ll buy me Ma a plant.  Something with flowers, something she can take care of.  She’ll like that, caring for a plant.  He selected a big potted plant with bright yellow flowers.

That is a nice one, said Duck. He picked it up and looked at it more closely.  A rather large beetle fell out.  Duck nearly dropped the pot.

What is that?

Bobi studied the animal.  It was on its back, legs waving in the air.

Six legs, he said.  It is an insect.

Duck was not impressed.  How do you know it is not dangerous?  That plant could be foreign. That beetle could be a really bad one, poisonous or something. 

They looked at the critter.  It looked helpless.

Ah, don’t be daft, said Bobi. Gie’s a bit of paper.

With care Bobi scooped up the beetle and carried it across the road, to a large concrete flowerpot. Released, the beastie scuttled away, under some leaves.  Bobi paid for the plant and he and Duck went to McDonalds.  Duck was still muttering. 

Fre all we know, you could’ve released a new plague.  I should have crushed it.

You know Duck, said Bobi, that’s what I do.  I am a carer.  The Job centre says so.  So I care for things. And when something is helpless it doesn’t necessarily say it is worthless.

It started to rain. They said their goodbyes.

Bobi’s home was on the fourth floor. The entrance to the flat was not very welcoming; there were rubbish bags everywhere and Bobi had to negotiate around a couple of bikes. The lift wasn’t working either. That meant that Bobi’s Ma was effectively trapped, on the fourth floor, in her wheelchair. She was supposed to go and see the doctor tomorrow. Nae chance; after weeks waiting for an appointment, she would probably end up cancelling it.

He opened the front door. His auntie Mo was bustling with the teacups.

Jus’ leave that, Mo, I’ll wash up when I make tea. You’ll want to get hame to get the dinner on. Thanks ever so much for being here. You’re a star!

He walked into the living room and presented his ma with the plant. Swear to God, it looked like she had a tear in her eyes.

You are good to me, son.

Where do you want me to put it?

In the window, so it gets the sunlight, and I can see it.

She held out an arm and drew Bobi in an embrace. It was awkward with the wheelchair.

Bobi thought of the rescued beetle. Helpless, on its back and frantically waving its legs. Helpless, he thought, but not worthless.