Depression Lives Next Door

By Stephen Bolger

Jimmy had it all, his own business, home, family, and
money, but due to the fi nancial depression, he lost it all.
Jimmy did not stand and fi ght to hold on to what was his,
he stood by and watched it fall apart.
The sheriff reprocessed his companies stock, his car, his
wifes car, and the demands from the revenue and the
banks for payment of all outstanding debts.
Jimmy took refuge in his bedroom, blaming everyone
except himself.
His mother gave him a hard time, his mother in-law hated
him, his wife done what she thought was right, and his
daughter fought on his side.
But jimmy day by day slowly slipped into depression, which
was to lead to devastating results, for him and everyone
he came in contact with.
Jimmy was so busy looking at a half empty glass, it never
dawned on him the glass was half full.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Feb 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456873493

Stephen Bolger

Born in Dublin in the mid-50s, it was always my dream and ambition to write a book, but due to work commitments as a full-time HGV driver, I never got the time to fulfi ll my dream. With my move to the country two years ago, I now had the time to follow my lifelong ambition and dream and write my second book, Depression Lives Next Door.

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Stephen Bolger.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011903132

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4568-7348-6

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4568-7347-9

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4568-7349-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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www.xlibrispublishing.co.uk

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301263

Contents

BOOK ONE

JIMMY

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

60

61

62

63

BOOK TWO

JIMMY’S FAMILY

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

BOOK THREE

GAIL AND THE HOSPITAL

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

CONCLUSION

BOOK ONE

JIMMY

1

Jimmy walked down Capel Street on to Bolton Street. He got strange looks from the people that passed him. He walked with his overcoat and jacket swinging open and both hands in his trouser pockets like a man on a walk on a summer’s day. This was not the thing that made people stare at him. The fact that there was heavy rain and the water was running down him, Jimmy didn’t notice. His mind was thousands of miles away. He stopped in Bolton Street and sat on the cold wet steps of an old derelict building in Bolton Street. It was a cold wet December evening; the rain was running down the back of his neck, causing him to shiver. Looking at his watch, it was 3:39 p.m. Jimmy was soaked through to the skin, but for some unknown reason, he did not feel the cold. Nor did he care. Jimmy flicked his cigarette butt across the road. He could hear his dad, You would want to give them up, son, or they will kill you. Rich—coming from a man who never smoked a day in his life and died of a heart attack at the age of forty-one. His dad was never sick a day in his life ever; he never even got the flu. He just went to bed, and that was it. No warning, he was dead the next morning.

Jimmy looked up Bolton Street and then down Capel Street. There were people running everywhere, trying to get out of the rain. Fools, he said, you’re wet anyway, why run? Some people never learn.

He looked at his hand; it was still bleeding, but there was no pain. He could not remember how he had cut his hand. He rubbed the cut—oh, it’s sore. The blood started to trickle out of the cut. Jimmy just looked at it. I must have cut it earlier. No, he must have cut it earlier as his trousers were covered in blood. He studied the cut. He was trying to remember how it happened, but it was a blank to him. He looked around again. He knew where he was, but how he got there was the mystery.

Jimmy looked back down the street; the rain was bouncing off the road, and the traffic was bumper to bumper. All the cars had their wipers and lights on. He could not understand why all the people were rushing. They were only going to sit in a room for the next twelve hours, eat, sleep, and start all over again, round and round day after day like hamsters in a spinning wheel—rush, rush, and going nowhere. Jesus, how sad life is when you think about it. You kill yourself making a life for yourself and your family, and just when you have yourself comfortable and everything paid, you die.

2

Coming down the street from the Liffey end was a woman in her late forties. She was piled down with bags of shopping; she was carrying plastic bags with Santa on the front of them. You could see by the expression on her face that she was totally stressed out. Christmas shopping, you can keep it. I’m glad it makes someone happy, and by the look on her face, she enjoyed her day’s shopping. Ya right, you stupid bitch, what thanks will you get for it? Oh thanks, love, but it’s the wrong color, or it’s too small, or I’ll put it up for when we have an earthquake. Ya, you stress yourself out. Go on, kill yourself getting what nobody wants, just like that bitch Ester. She walked past Jimmy and never even looked at him. So what’s new? He’s been invisible for a long time. No one has ever seen him unless they wanted something. He had helped a lot of people over the years, but when he needed help, everyone turned their backs on him, even his own family, and they waited till he hit rock bottom, then they kicked him in the teeth. At least, you can pick your friends, but family will always be there when you’re on top, but when you start to slide, it’s I told you so.

Jimmy pulled the collar of his coat up the back of his neck, not because he was cold but out of habit. He reached into his overcoat pocket and took out a packet of John Player Blue. Opening the packet, he noticed it was almost full. He looked at the packet of cigarettes. Where did I get them? He could not remember buying the packet of cigarettes; come to think of it, he could not remember how he got to Bolton Street. The last thing he remembered was getting the bus into town for the interview and going for coffee in the coffee shop in the Irish Life Mall. After that, things seem to be all over the place. He was trying hard to remember; the last thing he could remember for sure was Ester bringing up the letter to the bedroom to him. Well, he thought, that was the last thing he could remember, but things were so fuzzy and mixed up in his head that he can’t be sure if that was yesterday or today. He remembered talking to his dad. No, that can’t be right. My dad is dead.

Damn these headaches; there was no letup from them. They keep pounding and pounding, and these tablets that the doctor gave me are shit. He would have been better off taking aspirin or Panadol. They would have been better than the tablets he was taking. So much for doctors—here take these, anything to get rid of you. Well, Mr. Clarke, if you have any problems with these tablets, stop taking them and come back to see me, and I will change the medication for you. That was two weeks after he lost the plot in the doctors. He remembered telling the doctor he was a quack, but he could not remember why he said it. He just felt so angry at the doctor; he wanted to punch him in his smug face and rip his head off. Everything seemed to rush into his head together, and the doctor’s smug grin and Ester with her I told you so didn’t help matters. The more Ester went on, the more the doctor nodded, the more he wanted to punch both their stupid faces.

3

Ester had come running up the stairs with the letter, nearly tripping on the top step. She went into the bedroom. Jimmy was lying down with the blanket over his head; the curtains were pulled closed, and there was a stale smell in the room.

Jimmy, there’s post for you. As she handed him the letter, she went to the window and opened the curtains and the window. You need some air in here. Then she went back to the bed.

The first thing he thought was not more bills. If it’s a bill, just put it in the bin.

Jimmy, it’s not a bill, Ester said, like she was reading his mind.

He sat up in the bed, looked at Ester. How do you know it’s not a bill? Did you check it in your crystal ball?

There’s no window in the envelope, and bills don’t come in blue envelopes. She handed the letter to him. And it doesn’t suit you being smart.

Jimmy looked at the envelope. I hope it’s not a bill, because if it is, you can ring them and tell them where to stuff it.

Maybe the news is good for a change.

Ya right, some fat chance of that. When will I ever get good news?

Well, are you going to open the letter?

Jimmy opened the letter and then he tossed the letter to the side and lay back down. It’s not even worth reading.

Ester looked at Jimmy. I don’t believe you. You know, sometimes you know how to push a person to the limit. I hope that’s not the way you treated the people who worked for you.

What do you not believe? That I was a normal person? Sorry, I tried to be a normal person once, and if you must know, smart-arse, the people who worked for me would have worked for nothing if that shower in the banks had left me with my warehouse and goods.

Well, you could at least read it and tell me what that’s about. Seems as you don’t have the time to tell me anything else.

Wait till I read it. Jimmy picked up the letter and read it.

Ester sat on the side of the bed. Well.

It’s some company in town, offering me an interview.

Well, that’s good news, so are you getting up now? It’s 11:45, and when is the interview?

There’s no point in getting up, there’s nothing to do. And it’s on Friday, the interview that is.

But, Jim, you can’t stay in bed all day every day.

What’s the point in getting up?

Oh I give up, there’s no talking to you anymore, you just keep lying in that bed and fester about things, like someone is going to wave a magic wand, and hey presto, everything is back to normal. That’s what my Jimmy wants. Do you know you haven’t got the guts to get out of that bed and face things head on? No, not you, you just stay here in your bedroom and hide. Do you know what, Jimmy? You’re not even a man, maybe your mother was right. Why won’t you get up and even answer the door? No, let her do it. Well, Jimmy, I’m fed up as well. I am sick of answering the phone and making excuses for you, you’re not even man enough to stand beside me. No, not you, Jimmy. You leave me to take all the shit head on while you hide up here, some husband you turned out to be. Oh and you are starting to smell, maybe you are having a hard time with the shower, seems as everything else is a bother to you, or is it you forgot how to wash yourself? Well, one way or the other, Jimmy, I am not going to be your gilly anymore. You can answer your own phone calls because if I answer the phone and it’s for you, I am going to tell them you’re here.

Ester got off the bed and left the room, banging the door behind her.

4

Jimmy looked at the bedroom door. That stupid bitch, who does she think she is? Talking to me like that. Rot in hell, you bitch. He reached over to the bedside locker and took up a tablet container, and he opened the lid and took out two tablets. He put the tablet container back into the locker drawer.

He swallowed the two tablets dry; one of the tablets stuck to the roof of his mouth and then dissolved. Ah shit, this tastes rotten, this shagging headache. Will it ever just go? He slid out the bed; he crossed the bedroom to the en suite. Shower? No, not now, maybe later. He did a U-turn. Later, he took his dressing gown off the bedroom door and put it on going down the stairs.

Do you want coffee? Ester called from the kitchen.

Yes, he answered as he walked into the kitchen.

Sorry, Jim, but you have to start picking yourself up, you can’t just hang around the house all day and do nothing. You have to make an effort. Things will get better. You could start by having a shave and a shower, you are starting to smell.

Do you know something that I don’t, or have you got six hundred thousand stashed somewhere in the house? That’s what I owe the banks and the tax, and until they get paid, they will give me no rest. And how can I face people knowing that I owe them so much? You’re right, Ester, I am no good. I am not even worth the air I breathe. You are right, and my mother was right. I will never amount to anything. I will always be a sponger.

Ester said nothing. She handed Jimmy his coffee.

Jimmy took the coffee and went into the sitting room. Bitch, now I know why I don’t get up. Every day is the same. It wasn’t like that when I was making good money and my company was doing well. No, there was no hassle, everything was perfect, but since the company went bang and the banks foreclosed, everything is an issue with her. Jimmy this, Jimmy that, why don’t you do this, oh don’t do that. He sat down in the armchair. My arse, stupid bitch, he said as he took up his cigs. He lit one and sat back. This headache is getting worse, stupid doctor and his tablets. I should have punched his smart-arse face into the middle of next week.

Ester came into the room. Are you going to get ready to bring me over to my mother’s?

When?

Now, you told me yesterday you would bring me over today.

Right, as soon as I finish my coffee.

Right then, I’ll go and get ready. Ester left the room.

Jim watched Ester leave. Time has been good to her. She looks the same as the day I met her, and that’s twenty-eight years ago. God, time goes by so fast, twenty-eight years. He remembers it so well: his dad had died, and they were all in the pub after the funeral. Ester was a lounge girl working in the pub. She took Jimmy’s breath away; she was beautiful. He watched her for hours till at last he had the courage to ask her out; he nearly made an ass of himself.

5

H e stood at the end of the bar rehearsing.

Hi, I am Jimmy, would you like to go out with me? And then in a deeper voice, Hi, I’m Jimmy, do you fancy a date? Then he tried again in a sexy voice, Hi, I’m Jimmy, just call me Jim, how about me and you, meal, wine, and la de la, if you know what I mean.

Yes, Jim, I would. That’s if you’re talking to me.

He turned to see Ester standing behind him; his mouth fell open.

But it will have to be Monday. I am working the weekend, and Monday is my first day off. That’s if you want to go out on Monday.

Jimmy was left with his mouth open. Ah-ah-ah, yes, Mon-Mon-Monday is grand.

Ester went back down along the bar; she turned and smiled at him and blew him a kiss.

Jimmy looked in the mirror behind the bar. You know what, Jimmy boy? You’re so cool and so sexy, how could any girl say no? And he winked at himself. You’ve got it, you’re so full of sex appeal.

At the other end of the bar, Ester was watching him; she laughed and went on working.

Jimmy went home on a high. He could not wait for Monday. All the way home, he was as happy as he had ever been. That was short-lived when he got home.

You just buried you father today, and you’re going around with a stupid grin on your face. You know what, Jimmy Clarke, you’re a disgrace. Sometimes I wish to god you were never born. All them hours of labor, and this is what I get.

Jimmy’s face just dropped. He had no answer except under his breath, he muttered, You mean bitch. I wish it was you we put in the ground today, not my dad. Him I will miss, but you, never. I hope you die screaming.

6

The days could not go fast enough for him. All he could think about was her red hair and those blue eyes. But he had another problem: he forgot to ask her where they were going to meet. The only thing for it was to go to the pub and hope she turns up there, and that is what he did.

On Monday evening, he stood at the corner of the entrance to the drive-in to the pub and waited—7:25, 7:30, 7:35—and at 7:45 he knew he had been stood up. Aw shit, she’s not coming. He started heading down to the bus stop. I may as well go home. I will never be able to show my face in that pub again. Jimmy got to the bus stop just in time as a bus was pulling into the stop. Jimmy stood back to let the people get off the bus.

Hi, leaving without me?

Jimmy looked up, and standing inches away from him was Ester. I thought you stood me up.

Would I do that to you, Jimmy? The bus was late.

Do you want to go to town?

Ah okay.

Right, let’s get back on the bus.

They both got back on to the bus.

Where in town are we going? Ester asked as she walked up the bus to a seat at the back.

There are some ballets in a pub in Capel Street.

Okay. Ester sat down on the second last seat, and Jimmy sat beside her.