Mr Angry was charged with common assault and released on a months bail at the local Police station. He left in a mood that could only be described as foul and headed for the nearest pub.
Guinness. Whiskey chaser. Sit. Scowl.
His jaw clenched and his back teeth grinding he sat and stewed.
I could see the pattern. Under the anger was guilt and shame. He knew he had fucked up but could not allow himself to feel that. He believed he had to be strong.
The truth of it was he had to be softer if he had any chance of moving though this anger to a place of peace. Just as I had.
Now I needed to find a way to help him.
No moving books this time.
The door to the pub opened and through it walked a woman. Her white stick, dark glasses and careful movements told me that her sight was impaired. I sensed something. A prickling of my subconscious. We had been warned to listen to these impulses in our training. A blink moment. I moved, psycho-kinetically speaking, toward her and at the same time moved my attention to the stick. She was passing Mr Angry’s table when I managed mentally, to pull it from her hands.
It flew across his table knocking the pint and the whiskey into his lap.
“For Christ’s sake” he bellowed “What the fu………..”
His voice trailed off as he saw the woman.”You wanker” he thought to himself. He picked up the stick and moved toward the woman.
“Here you go” he said, “Sorry about the swearing”
She took the stick. “Don’t worry about it” she said, “What were you drinking?”
“It was nearly finished” he lied.
“Sounded pretty full to me” she answered. Her hearing was finely tuned it seemed. She turned towards the bar. “Red wine please Joe” she said to the barman, “and whatever my friend here was drinking”
The barman nodded and turned away to get a wine glass from the shelf behind.
“Well you know how to get a girls attention don’t you?” she said.
“I don’t know what you mean” he answered.
“Grabbing my stick like that”
“I never touched your bloody stick”
“I suppose it was a ghost then eh?”
” Look, I wouldn’t do that. Grab a stick off a …” he paused, “off a woman”
“Off a blind woman you mean.” She smiled. He blushed. She knew.
The barman placed the drinks on the bar. “One wine, One Guinness, one whiskey chaser. That’ll be nine pounds.”
“Bad day?” she asked as she handed a tenner over the bar.
“What makes you say that?”
“Guinness and whiskey at eleven am”
“Terrible day actually”
“Wanna talk about it?”
She walked to a table and sat down. She’d obviously sat there before. She knew exactly where it was. He joined her.
“So” she said “Tell me all about it”