The Broken Man

‘I know it’s not my place to ask,’ Phil went on in a more serious tone, ‘but, what’s your dad got against you climbing trees?’

Adam shrugged. ‘He says it’s undignified.’

‘I see.’ In fact, he didn’t see at all.

Deep in conversation, they were startled and delighted when a deer shot across their path. A few steps on, and Phil resumed their conversation.

‘Do you know what I’d do, if ever I had loads of money?’

‘No.’

‘I don’t expect I ever will have loads of money, but if I did, I’d build myself the prettiest little cottage right in the middle of these ’ere woods. And I’d be sure to make friends with every animal that lived here.’

Adam laughed. ‘You’d be like the old man in the story.’

‘Oh, and what story is that?’

‘It’s a mystery I once read, about a man who lived in an old shed in the woods. He cut his own logs for the fire, and everything he ate came out of the woods. Sometimes he would even sleep in the forest with the animals, and they never once hurt him.’

‘Ah, well, there you go, then. He sounds like a man after my own heart. So, how long did he live like that?’

‘A long time … years! Then one day he just disappeared, and was never seen again.’

‘Hmmph!’ Stooping to collect a fallen branch, Phil threw it into the verge. ‘So nobody knows what happened to him, eh?’

‘No. The story tells how one day he was seen collecting mushrooms; then he was never seen again. Some of the villagers were worried he might be ill, so they went to check the shed where he lived, but though the old man was gone, all his belongings were still there.’

‘Sounds too spooky for me.’ Phil was intrigued. ‘But what do you think happened to him?’

‘Well … I think maybe he got really sick and he knew he wouldn’t get better, so he crept away where no one would ever find him. Just like the Indians of old used to do.’

Phil thought about that. ‘Well, if that’s the case, he’s a very lucky man. Not many people get to choose how they live their lives, and then decide where to end them.’

There followed a short silence as they each dwelled on the fate of the mystery man.

‘Phil?’ The boy softly broke the silence.

‘Yes, son?’

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to choose what I want to do with my life.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because my father has my future all planned out.’

‘Has he now?’ Phil prompted him. ‘And you think that’s a bad thing, do you?’

‘He says I’m his only son and that he’s decided there will be no more children,’ Adam explained. ‘So it’s my duty to follow in his footsteps.’

‘No more children, eh?’

‘That’s what he said.’

‘And are you sure you don’t want to follow in his footsteps?’

‘Yes, I’m sure, but when I try and tell him, he gets really angry.’

He was careful not to reveal how his father often took a belt to him; that one time he split the skin on his back and forbade his mother to take him to hospital.

‘Have you spoken to your mother about not wanting to follow in your dad’s footsteps?’

‘Yes, but Mum said it’s best if I do what Father says.’ He paused before confiding in a quieter voice, ‘Sometimes if I disobey him, he takes it out on her. That’s cowardly, isn’t it, Phil?’

‘I’m sorry, son, but without knowing all the circumstances, it would not be right for me to comment on that,’ Phil apologised, although his mental picture of the boy’s father was now deeply unsettling.

Thinking it might be wise to change the subject, he asked, ‘So if you’re not allowed to climb trees, what do you do when you’re out with your mates?’

‘I don’t have any mates.’

‘Oh? And why’s that then?’

‘Father says I must not waste my time. He says that if I’ve got any spare time after school, I must use it for doing extra studies, because I’ll never make anything of myself if I don’t study.’

He cast his gaze to the floor. ‘Can I tell you something, Phil?’

‘Course you can, son.’

‘I don’t like him very much. He makes me study all the time, and I’m never allowed to do anything else. I would like to have close mates that I could bring home and play with. But Father keeps me too busy for that.’

‘I’m sure your father thinks it’s all for your own good.’

‘I know, but he asks too much of me, and he has such a terrible temper, and if I get the questions wrong, he makes me do them all over again. Sometimes it’s midnight and he still won’t let me go. Mum argues with him and then … he … he …’ his voice tailed off to a whisper. ‘Sometimes, I really hate him.’

Saddened by what Adam had told him, Phil made him a promise. ‘Always remember, son, if ever you feel the need to talk, I’ll be here for you.’ Not being witness to what happened in that house, Phil believed it was wrong of him to criticise. Instead, he quietly reassured the boy, ‘I expect he has your interests at heart, but you obviously believe he’s going about it the wrong way, so all you can do is to keep explaining how you feel.’

‘I’ve made up my mind, I don’t ever want to be like him!’ A dark look crossed his face.

‘Well, I’m sure that’s your choice, Adam, but your father has made a success of his own life and, from what you tell me, it seems he wants the same for you.’

‘I know that.’ Looking ahead towards the house, the boy grew agitated. ‘But he’s not a good man. Sometimes he’s really nasty. He doesn’t laugh, and when he gets angry he shouts and screams. Mum tells me not to rile him, or he might …’

‘Might what?’ Phil could see the child was getting agitated. ‘Apart from the shouting and wanting you to work harder, is there something else that’s worrying you, son?’

‘NO! No, there’s nothing else.’ Fearing he might have said too much already, Adam finished lamely, ‘Me and Mum, we just do what he tells us, and then everything is fine.’

‘Well, just remember what I said, Adam. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.’ Phil brought the subject to an end: ‘I’ve an idea that you and your father will work it out, eventually.’ Even so, he was genuinely concerned by what the boy had told him.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Adam said after a few moments’ silence.