Be Myself! - 47. Everything Deserves a Second Chance

And I would have entered my first counselling session completely relaxed and even cheerful, if not for one unfortunate coincidence. The door to the counselling rooms opened at twelve o’clock sharp. I expected to see the counsellor calling me in, but the person who came through the door was not even an adult. He had short black hair, wore round glasses and managed to make me panic at the mere sight of him, even though he was younger and shorter than me.

Arthur McKay, the guy who hurt Oliver and Henry, walked out of the counselling room with a troubled expression. He did not notice me, but I did not need his acknowledgment to make my heart race and my legs freeze in place.

(...)

“Oscar Schubert.” The therapist’s voice distracted me from my rising panic. I followed the voice to the same room Arthur had been in. A woman waited for me sitting in a comfortable armchair. She was wearing a more casual set of clothes than I expected from a mental health professional: jeans and a hippie-style long shirt with a colourful summer scarf. At least her smile seemed genuinely warm and welcoming. “Hello, Oscar, nice to meet you. My name is Irene, and I’m the school counsellor. How are you today?”

“Fine,” I answered politely. I was obviously not really fine after seeing Arthur come so close to me, but this was not the kind of question that demanded an honest reply.

“Good, good.” Irene raised an eyebrow. I always imagined counsellors to be quiet, nice ladies in flowery dresses or smartly-dressed old men with monocles (no idea where those images came from), so I found it weird to see that Irene looked young enough to be asked to show her ID if she went drinking after work. Was this her first job after graduation? My immediate reaction was to not trust someone who appeared so young. Would she have enough experience to help me? “Please take a seat, Oscar.” There were two identical armchairs positioned in front of the one Irene was sitting on. I tried to guess which one Arthur had used (so I could take the other one), but it was harder than it should have been. In the end I sat in the one closest to me. The seat felt a little warm. I must have made some kind of disgusted face, because she noticed my discomfort. “Is there something wrong with the chair?”

“No, not really.” I was not sure how appropriate it would be to explain my feelings towards her previous client. We had barely spoken to each other, I had no idea how she would react. And it was not like she could do anything about it anyway.

“Ok, then.” Irene smiled again. She sounded friendly enough, but I could not shake off the feeling that she was too young to be doing such a complicated job. “Before we start, I would like to explain how our sessions are going to work. This is your space, and you’re free to use it in any way you feel like. I won’t ask you questions, or direct you towards talking about one particular thing. You’ll talk about what you think you should talk about, and I’m going to listen. You’re even free to not talk at all, if that’s what you need. I’m not here to give you advice or to tell you to follow a magical list of steps to get rid of your problems. What I’m going to do is help you figure out by yourself what you need to do to get better.”

“You’re not going to give me any answers?” Her explanation did not make sense to me, and played right into my impression that she did not know what she was doing. How could I get better if nobody told me how to get better? The reason I had agreed to go to counselling was because I needed answers. I needed someone to tell me what to do to get over the mess made by Joseph.

“No, I’m going to help you find your own.” Irene was still smiling. She did not seem worried about my reaction. She was probably used to it, if all the other people she saw were like me. “Even if I wanted to just spell out a solution for you, it wouldn’t work. Every person is different, and so every problem and every answer are going to be different too.”

She did have a point when she put it like that, but some things still did not make sense to me. “But how are you going to help me find my answers?”

“I’ll help you feel stronger and validated, so that you’re better able to look within yourself and find what you’re looking for there.”

“Validated? What does that mean?”

“It means that I’ll help you feel and understand that your feelings are not out place or inadequate, that you’re on the right path even when it seems you’re not.”

I was not sure of what to say to that. I still thought Irene’s therapy plan did not make much sense, and that she was a bit too young to be mature enough to deal with my kind of problem. But Henry had said that she was really good and was helping him a lot. So there must have been something there that I was missing, that I would only really understand once I was actually experiencing it rather than just theorising about it. Still, it did not make me feel any more confident that I was doing the right thing sitting in Arthur’s armchair and preparing to open up to a complete stranger.

“Ok.” I could not think of anything to say for a while. What did she expect me to do? Should I just start talking about Joseph and my fears and my nightmares? Could I talk about Joseph at all? Or would it be safer to talk about something else first? Irene did not know anything about me. Maybe it would be better to introduce myself before anything else. While I tried to think of what to do, Irene did not say a word to me. It would have been a lot easier if she had asked me questions to help me think. There was no guidance, no indication of any sort of path I should take. It was like she handed me a blank sheet of paper and expected me to produce a masterpiece, even though I did not know how to draw. I was conscious of the time passing, of my first session being wasted by my confusion. I was wasting not only my session, but the class that I had to miss by being here. “I don’t know what to say,” I confessed when the sense of urgency became too much to bear.

“You don’t know what to talk about?” Irene asked.

“Yeah. I don’t know where to start.”

“Too many options?” Irene smiled gently. I was probably not the first to have that kind of doubt.

“Yeah. I don’t know anything about you, you don’t know anything about me, and I don’t know if whatever I tell you will make any sense if you don’t know where I’m coming from.”

“So you’re afraid that, if you start telling me things about yourself, I won’t be able to understand them because I don’t know you.”

I could not be sure if Irene had asked a question or just made a statement. Her tone was very ambiguous. So I just answered he best way I could. “Yeah. I was sent to counselling because the man I used to call ‘father’ tried to…” My voice faltered. It still hurt to talk about everything. “He tried to kill me. He doesn’t regret it. It hurts not just because of the physical pain and the injuries. He was my father. I loved him. I always did everything to make him proud of me. I wanted to be the perfect son. I wanted to make him happy. And I thought he loved me too.” Somewhere in the middle of my rambling, my eyes filled with water, and I looked down at my knees. Tears began to fall onto my school trousers. It became gradually more difficult to speak. Irene indicated a box of tissues on the coffee table in front of me, and I ended up going through two sheets before I felt like I could speak again. “Sorry. Everything is still so new. It feels like all my wounds open up again when I remember. It hurts so much.”

“You never expected he could do something like this. He betrayed you and threw away your love. It must be really painful for you. He was someone you looked up to, but the image you used to have of him has now been shattered.” Irene’s words sounded just as painful as if I had said them myself. She was right, but knowing that she understood my feelings on some level only made me want to talk more, which meant the pain only increased.

“He turned against me because I was not what he had imagined me to be. I realised I like guys as well as girls, but this was not something he could cope with. He thought it made me less of a man, and no son of his could be that way.” My eyes stung and filled with water again. I grabbed another tissue. “He thought it was better to have no son at all than to have someone like me.” I had to stop talking again. The flashbacks returned, and I was once again taken to Joseph’s study to relive the pain of his fist and foot against my body. I felt nauseous. I couldn’t breathe properly. He kept kicking me, and the pain was way too real. The taste of blood in my mouth was too strong to be just my imagination.

“The memories are still very intense. Very raw,” Irene remarked. Her voice rescued me from the flashback, but I still felt very sick. All I could do was nod to her and cry silently. Many different thoughts occurred to me then, but it was a while before I could vocalise them.

“Joseph used to say that men shouldn’t cry. I shouldn’t show weakness like that. But even though I now know that he’s wrong, it still feels like I’m doing something I shouldn’t, and that I should try to stop it as soon as possible.”

“You learned that crying is a weakness. It’s something that is difficult to unlearn.”

I could not stop crying. Having Irene acknowledge how hard it was to get over Joseph’s conditioning brought up a rush of sadness that I could not contain. It surged out of me like a desperate waterfall. Over the next twenty minutes I did nothing but cry and finish the contents of Irene’s tissue box. I said nothing else, and she watched me in silence. She only spoke to tell me she was going to get a new tissue box. After a while, I was not even consciously thinking about Joseph anymore. I just felt sad. There was no narrative behind the feeling. It was just there. And it hurt. And I wanted it out. But it seemed that the more I cried, the more the sadness built up, until I was completely overwhelmed by it.

My eyes dried. The sobbing gradually stopped. I did not dare say a word. The sadness was eating me from the inside, and I felt completely numb. The feeling carried on throughout the session, and when it was time to go, Irene was reluctant to let me go back to class.

“Would you like to go home for the day? I can call someone to pick you up. ”

I accepted Irene’s offer. I felt exhausted. I would never have thought that sadness could be so tiring, physically as well as emotionally. All I wanted was to curl up in bed and wait for the day to end.

Twenty minutes later, Mr Viñas picked me up from the school’s gate. At home, he made me a hot chocolate to cheer me up a little, but did not ask any intrusive questions. He and Ms Savage let me be for the rest of the afternoon. When Oliver came home, he found me sleeping on his bed, and kissed my forehead before walking out of the room.

(...)

When my friends heard that I had to leave school earlier because of the emotional toil of the counselling session, they decided to visit me the next day to cheer me up. It was a Saturday, so the plan was to spend most of the afternoon together. Earlier that morning, Sam made a little show of presenting me with an amusing drawing of an ugly stick-figure-Joseph and an ugly stick-figure-Claire being eaten (in an amazingly detailed gory imagery for just two stick figures) by a bear called ‘Poetic Justice’. I did not expect an eight-year-old to grasp that kind of concept and use it as cheer-up art, so I ended up laughing at the boy’s ingenuity. Sam was happy that I was happy, and his ‘mission accomplished’ face was really cute.

Oliver’s room became considerably cramped when all the LGBTI Club members, plus Edward and Emma, tried to use it as the headquarters for their ‘Cheer Oscar Up’ operation. Jean used the lack of physical space to stick as close to me as possible. His hands often ‘accidentally’ slipped to certain private areas of my body, but he pretended not to notice. Thankfully, we soon realised that Oliver’s room was too small for all of us, and we took over the living room instead. Mr Viñas brought snacks for my friends and a chocolate milkshake for me.

My friends’ main cheer-up tactic was distraction. They figured that as long as they could keep my mind away from the things I brought up during counselling, their plan would succeed. It worked for a while. We talked about school, about Jean’s attempt to convince Mr Smith to let him make homemade porn videos to sell on the internet (in which everyone sided with our teacher because Jean was underage, and thus making his own porn was many levels of illegal and wrong), and even about Helena’s new pet snake (though nobody dared to ask why she had a snake for a pet). Jean started to randomly hit on Edward, Henry, and Oliver, as well as me, if we did so much as open our mouths. Edward hid behind Ariadne, Henry blushed and melted in his seat, and Oliver tried to pretend he was not over the moon with such a clear acknowledgment of his masculinity.

But eventually they ran out of distractions. Jean’s shameless flirting reached such heights that the only way for him to get any further would be to have an orgy right there and then. My friends did not say it out loud, but I could feel they did not know what else to do to keep my mind away from its darkest places. And so I remembered the counselling session, and the few scary minutes that preceded it. With Oliver and Henry so close to me, I realised I should have spoken about it sooner.

“I saw Arthur McKay at counselling. He was the student she was seeing before me.” My comment made everyone look nervously around the room, particularly at Oliver and Henry.

“Did he see you?” Hannah asked.

“I don’t think so. But it was kind of scary seeing him so close.”

“Well, Mum did say that part of Arthur’s rehabilitation would involve getting counselling to improve his behaviour…” Ariadne noted, though she sounded like she was not sure if she should have spoken.

“I’ve never seen him around when I go to my sessions.” Henry raised an eyebrow. Jean snuggled closer to him and passed an arm over his shoulder.

“They probably make it so your sessions are never scheduled close to one another.” Hannah shrugged. “If they have any common sense they would do everything they can to keep you away from him.”

“But they didn’t think of doing it for Oscar too?” Luce asked.

“I’m not the one making the schedules, I have no idea.” Hannah shrugged again. “Though, as long as counselling makes Arthur stop hurting other people just because he feels like it–”

Hannah did not get to finish her thought, because Oliver had something to say too. “Do you think he can just stop like that? I don’t think I would feel safe around him even if the counsellor said he’s turned into the next Madre Theresa.”

“You do know that Mother Theresa wasn’t as saintly as she would have you believe, right?” Charlie asked, though she shook her head and dismissed her own interruption. “Sorry, let’s not change the subject. We can talk about all the problematic things she did at some other time.”

“You think Arthur is never going to change?” Hannah asked, effectively getting back to the topic. She nodded to Charlie, but kept her attention mostly focused on Oliver.

“You didn’t see his hatred. It was like me being a guy offended him personally. I don’t know if he can learn to change those kinds of thoughts,” Oliver answered.

“Yeah. He seemed to take my sexuality like a personal offense too. He acted like my existence hurt him, and he was just giving me payback…” Henry shivered. Jean surprised everyone in the room by hugging him and kissing his cheek without any kind of sexual overtone.

“But he’s now been given the chance to properly learn that this is wrong,” Hannah said. “Counselling could help him get to the real reason behind all that hatred, and help him turn his life around.”

“I don’t think people can change that much.” Oliver lowered his head. “He seemed so extreme, so cruel. I hadn’t met anyone like him before.”

Henry nodded, but could not bring himself to say anything. Hannah, on the other hand, looked like a volcano ready to erupt. Just before she opened her mouth, however, she took a calming breath and tried to keep her tone gentle.

“I do. I’ve changed that much, and it didn’t even take that long. I used to be a horrible person too, not just because of the drugs. I was always angry, nothing ever made me happy. I started doing drugs because everything felt so bad all the time. I wanted to erase everything, and once one drug stopped working, I didn’t think twice before going for the next. I’m not saying you’re wrong to believe Arthur is such a hateful person, but I can understand him somewhat, I think. He’s kind of like I was, but instead of trying to get high to feel better, he turns to other people to discharge his anger.”

“But you were not homophobic and transphobic, were you?” Helena asked. No one else seemed willing to speak while Hannah shared her past. “Your hatred was for something else.”

“The hatred was a symptom of something much bigger. I learned that when Mr Smith arranged for me to go to rehab and move to a foster family. My biological parents never learned to take care of me properly and couldn’t care less about what I did with my life. I was angry at their neglect. I started drinking and smoking and everything else because I wanted them to notice me somehow. I didn’t know what else to do then. And once I understood this, it became easier for me to turn my life around. My foster family gave me parental figures who care about me. I’m still angry with my biological parents for messing me up so badly, but I know better than to let that anger make me do things I’ll regret.”

“But how does that apply to Arthur?” Helena asked. She did not sound particularly confrontational, but since she was the only one who dared question Hannah’s story in any way, I feared they would sooner or later start a proper argument.

“I think that Arthur’s anger could be a symptom of something else that’s wrong with his life, but that he doesn’t realise. If counselling makes him see what is causing that anger, it’s possible that, like me, he’ll be able to do something about the real cause of his problems. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out Arthur is gay, but comes from a very homophobic environment. Maybe all he needs is to learn to accept who he is, and that will make the anger go away.”

“That’s very optimistic,” Henry whispered.

“That’s just how I see things.”

“I don’t want to sound like I’m dismissing your life and your story, but I can’t imagine Arthur getting better just from accepting his sexuality.” Henry did not look at Hannah while he spoke, but kept his head half-buried in Jean’s chest. “I’m never going to forget what he did. It’s because of him that I’m now afraid to walk home on my own, and that I have nightmares at night. I’m forced to remember what he did every time I look at my arms. I’m sorry, but even if all that violence is something he can change, I’m never going to feel safe around him. I don’t want him near me ever again.”

“Me too.” Oliver did not look at Hannah either. “I’m really glad you were able to turn your life around like that, but Arthur is not you. There’s no guarantee he’ll be able to do the same, and even if he does, I don’t know if I can forgive him either. Forgiving him won’t change what he already did. And considering the pain he put us through, I don’t think I would ever be able to give him a second chance.”

Nobody spoke for a while. We did not look directly at each other, and the air in the room suddenly became heavy with tension. Hannah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Henry buried his face completely in Jean’s chest, and the blond caressed his hair. Oliver clung to me. Finally, Luce decided the silence had gone on for too long.

“Maybe we should agree that Hannah, Oliver, and Henry are going to disagree about Arthur because of their personal experiences. Let’s leave it at that before we end up saying something hurtful.”

Charlie joined in support of her friend. “You all made important points, and dismissing them would be like dismissing your lives. Let’s not do that. Ultimately, what happens to Arthur depends only on Arthur, so there’s no point in arguing about it now. Oliver and Henry have all the right to not want to see him even if he does change for the better. It’s only up to them who they allow in their lives. I think it’s important to remember that sometimes people can, and do, change, but forgiveness doesn’t have to follow automatically from that.”

Oliver, Hannah, and Henry finally turned to look at each other and nodded. The tension slowly dissipated, but Charlie’s words stayed in my mind. I did not owe anyone forgiveness. It was a liberating thought, as it meant that there were two people in particular I would never have to forgive.

(...)

On Sunday I thought I was feeling well enough to venture outside the house. I asked Oliver if he wanted to go with me to visit Jeshua at his shop, and he accepted without thinking twice. He seemed as excited about seeing Jeshua as I was. Oliver suggested we called our friends too, so that we could introduce them to him. It did not sound like a bad idea, so after a few phone calls and text messages, we all agreed to meet in front of the steps to the Royal Concert Hall and head to Harmony Street from there.

“Harmony Street freaks me out. I can’t wait to go back there.” Jean’s statement should have made us question his sanity, but we had known him long enough that all we did was laugh or roll our eyes and face-palm.

“We’re going to the charity shop this time, right?” Hannah asked. Oliver nodded. “Good. Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it? We could get you some gifts from there. We can thank Jeshua from his help by boosting his business.”

“I guess we could.” Oliver sounded like he had not even thought about birthday presents yet, which was weird considering he would turn sixteen next Thursday. “I completely forgot about it.” He blushed.

“Well, no wonder. Your family’s had their hands full.” Helena looked at me as she spoke, even though she was talking to Oliver. “Let’s hope your parents haven’t forgotten it either.”

“I don’t think they did. My entire family is coming for my party, even some relatives from Spain.” Oliver’s eyes suddenly grew to twice their size and he covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh, no! Shit! Shit! My family is coming from Spain! And they don’t know anything about me yet! What am I going to do?”

“They’re going to call you by your old name?” Charlie asked.

“Yes.” Oliver’s face went from red to pale in one second. “And I’m turning sixteen, so they expect me to wear a dress and make-up and look pretty. I can’t… I can’t…”

“Why don’t you use your party to come out to everyone? Then you can just be yourself and present yourself like the handsome young man you are,” Luce suggested, winking at Oliver as she said the last part.

“I… I’ll talk to my parents. I don’t want to pretend to be Olivia ever again.”

Charlie and Luce rubbed Oliver’s back reassuringly. It was Luce who spoke first. “I don’t think your parents will object to that. Nobody should be forced back into the closet.”

“Do you think your parents would tell you to pretend you never came out?” Charlie asked.

“I hope not.” Oliver shivered. “I would rather not have a party at all if I had to do that.”

“Then all the more reason for us to get you presents!” Luce passed an arm over Oliver’s shoulders and walked forward with him, prompting everyone else to follow them. Luce marched straight to Harmony Street, refusing to stop for anything or anyone. Thus, we were there in less than five minutes.

As soon as we entered the quiet oasis that was Harmony Street, we saw Sid standing in front of his bookshop. “Oh, hello there. It’s good to see you again.” He greeted us with a peaceful smile. “And I am glad to see you are recovering well, Oscar.”

“How did you know?” I asked, surprised and little freaked out. The shop owners on Harmony Street seemed to be very good at causing this kind of feeling.

“Jeshua is a close friend of mine. He told me what happened the day he found you.” Sid approached us. “I’m really sorry for what you went through, but I hope you’ll find the strength to heal well.”

“Thank you.” I was still too stunned to react with more than a polite nod to Sid. Oliver, on the other hand, seemed to have recovered from the stress of his imminent family visit.

“We’re here to thank Jeshua for his help. He said he wanted to know how Oscar was recovering, so we decided to come by and let him see for himself.”

“I see. Thank you for coming. I’m sure Jeshua will appreciate your visit.” Sid nodded and smiled to our group and watched as we turned towards Jeshua’s charity shop. Jean happened to be the one who got to the shop’s door first, but just as he was preparing to open it, another door, one that led to the flats above the shop, opened next to him on his right. The door to the flats was blue and made a horrible metallic noise as it was slowly dragged over the stone pavement. Whoever was trying to open it seemed to be making a considerable effort. Jean ended up grabbing the door and holding it open until the person came out.

“Wow, this door is a lot heavier than it looks,” he noted.

“Thank you,” the person coming out said. Just like when I first met Sid, I was having trouble telling if this person was male or female. Their upper body was very muscular and their chest was definitely flat, but they were wearing a pink summer shirt and had lipstick and jewellery on. To add to the confusion, the person had a well-trimmed beard. I had been around Charlie long enough to learn to not make assumptions about a person’s gender based just on their looks, but with this person my first impression was so confusing that I probably would not have known which assumption to make even if I tried.

“That’s a hell of a door you have there.” Jean turned his back to Jeshua’s shop to contemplate the person in front of him. It took me a while to notice that they were walking with crutches, which probably explained their difficulty opening the door. After Jean spoke, he kept staring at the other person with a sort of disturbed look. Charlie approached him, likely intending to tell him to stop staring, but before Charlie could get to him, Jean approached the stranger. “You.”

“Me?” The stranger raised their eyebrows. They were slightly taller than Jean (who was already taller than an average person), but their body curved slightly forward because of the crutches. Jean was staring straight into their eyes with his brows furrowed. At least the stranger did not seem to mind that intense staring too much. “What about me?”

“You,” Jean repeated. This qualified as weird behaviour, even for his standards. None of us understood what he was trying to do. The stranger cocked their head to the side. Jean was not even blinking.

“Why is it that when we come here something weird always happens?” Oliver whispered.

“Why does it always happens around Jean?” Henry added, also in a whisper. They exchanged worried glances, and I began to think that going to Harmony Street might not have been such a good idea after all.

Just when things were getting too disturbing, however, Sid appeared and called after the stranger. “Ah, Sayyid, it’s good to see you outside again.”

Sayyid turned to Sid to answer, but Jean did not move. “Thank you, Sid. I think I needed the fresh air. And I was lucky that Jean was here to help me with the door too, otherwise I would probably end up screaming after you or Jeshua.” Sayyid and Sid looked towards Jean.

“Yes, you were lucky. Let’s talk to Jeshua and see if he can do something about this door.” Sid turned to Jean. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Jean’s eyes widened and he took a step back. Sid’s words struck me as weird and random, but Jean’s reaction made it look like they meant something to him. I got goosebumps all over my body, and that was before I came up with any conspiracy theory to explain what I was seeing.

“Oh, I forgot Edgar wanted me to help him with something at home, I better be going…” Jean tried to step away from our group. He never took his eyes away from Sid and Sayyid, and his mouth formed the most obviously fake smile I had ever seen on him.

“Dad didn’t say anything of the sort!” Edward said. He did not seem to realise that Jean was trying to make up an excuse to disappear. His foster brother was not at all pleased. However, before he could get too far from us, Jeshua appeared to check on all the commotion. One glance towards Jean was all it took for the boy to stop in his tracks.

“May I ask what is going on here?” Jeshua looked at the small crowd in front of his shop. It was Sid who answered.

“Jean held the door open for Sayyid. We were just saying thank you.”

“Ah, I see.” Jeshua smiled. He turned his attention to Jean. “It is indeed good to see you here.”

“You’re messing with me!” Jean snarled. Everything about his posture indicated he was ready to run away, but his feet stayed rooted to the ground.

“Not at all. My feelings are genuine. Your presence here fills me with joy.”

“Why me?”

Jeshua acted like he did not hear Jean’s last exasperated question. He turned to me instead. The uneasiness I was feeling because of the way Jean was acting gave way to a calming peace of mind and a strong feeling of safety. “Oscar, thank you for remembering me. It’s a pleasure to see you here, and to see that you are well.”

“Thank you, Jeshua.”

“Please, come in, all of you. I can show you my shop, if that is what you came here for.” Jeshua indicated that we should go into the shop. Even Jean accepted his offer, though he looked around like he expected something to jump on him at any moment. Sid and Sayyid stayed outside, engaged in deep conversation.

“We’re here to buy birthday presents for Oliver. His birthday is Thursday,” Hannah explained once we were all inside the shop. Jeshua smile and turned to Oliver.

“Oh, really? Then I must get you something as well. You can pick anything from here and I’ll give it to you for free.”

“Thanks!” Oliver’s eye lit up and he scanned the space around him. Jeshua’s charity shop was mostly a large open space with random items dangling from shelves pressed against the walls. Some larger items, like fake Christmas trees, an empty fish tank, and a pink dresser, were left on their own towards the middle of the space, but there were no aisles.

“I’ve never seen a charity shop like this before,” Luce said. She was looking at a pair of old porcelain dolls near the shop’s entrance. “Do you get all this stuff from donations?”

“Yes. Everything you see here was donated to me. I restore items that are slightly broken or worse of wear to give them a new chance of having a useful life.”

“They’re just objects. They don’t have ‘lives’,” Helena said.

“They might not be alive in the same way that you and I are alive, but all things here once belonged to someone who considered them special and cared for them deeply.” Jeshua looked around his shop and pointed at a few objects while he spoke about them. “The porcelain dolls were a little girl’s first ever gift, given to her when she was born by a father who died at sea not long afterwards. The music box plays a song that gave a dancer a big breakthrough in his career and allowed him to show the world who he really was. The viola belonged to a girl who loved music, but could not play because a genetic disease made her body weak. All those objects have stories, and I make sure that those who buy the items are aware of them.”

“Wow, that’s really nice.” Luce delicately took one of the porcelain dolls off the shelf. “I think I want those dolls now. I’ll love them as much as their previous owner did!”

“That is precisely why I decided to call this shop Everything Deserves a Second Chance. I think when I make people aware of the story behind the things they buy, they feel a connection with the original owner, and end up treasuring what they got even more. It creates a kind of empathy, and it spreads a sense of love and care that goes way beyond a simple physical object.” Jeshua smiled at all of us. The sense of peace I felt when he first appeared became even stronger, and even Jean seemed to relax into it. “So, back to what you were saying…” Jeshua turned to Helena. “The objects themselves might not be alive, but their existence has touched many people’s lives, and it is my duty to see that they continue to do so.”

Helena did not say anything after that. She let Ariadne drag her around the shop to look for Oliver’s present. Everyone else soon became busy browsing too, and I headed towards the viola that Jeshua had mentioned. It came with a hard case covered in colourful stickers, and it seemed to be in pretty good condition considering it had probably been in the shop for a while.

“Are you interested in the viola?” Jeshua asked me.

“I have one, but it’s… It’s back at that house. I don’t know when I’ll be able to see it again.”

Jeshua understood what I was trying to say and smiled sympathetically. He took the viola from the shelf and handed it to me. “Why don’t you try it out? If you like it, we can negotiate a deal on it.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, taking the viola carefully. It did not seem to be a cheap student model.

“Yes, go for it.”

With Jeshua’s encouragement, I played the first tune that came to mind, Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. My friends stopped their browsing to listen to it too, and I felt a little embarrassed. At least there were no other customers in the shop. “It does seem like a good viola.”

“Would you like to have it?” Jeshua asked.

“How much does it cost?” It would be nice to have a viola again, but now that I lived with the Viñas’s I did not have my own money to spend on things like that.

Jeshua looked around us. My friends had resumed their browsing once the music finished, and were no longer paying attention to us. Jeshua spoke in a whisper. “I’m willing to give it to you on one condition.”

“What is it?” Jeshua was not the kind of person who did shady dealings in dark alleys, so despite his attempt at secrecy, I did not feel weary of what his answer would be. I felt so peaceful around him that I did not even consider that he could come up with something sinister.

“There will be a time when a friend of yours will realise he is not who he thinks he is. He will reject everything and everyone he knows and try to follow his own path. I will give you this viola if you promise to let him go, and promise to convince your other friends to not go after him either.”

“What do you mean? How do you know those things?” Jeshua’s peaceful aura prevented me from entering a state of panic upon realising the creepy implications of what he was telling me, but I was still able to feel shock and a minor sense of dread.

“The same way I knew to pass by Anniesland Road in the middle of a storm.” Jeshua’s voice was soothing. “I do not seek to harm you or your friends. On the contrary, I feel only love and compassion towards you. And for that reason, I need you to do as I say.”

“Why me?”

“Our lives crossed paths for a reason.” Jeshua put his hands on my shoulders. Their warm touch helped me relax despite the rest of his words. “Nothing happens by chance, Oscar. You were the one who was given a second chance at life, and so you’re the one who will enable your friend to have his second chance.”

“Which friend are you talking about?” I felt I already knew the answer before Jeshua looked pointedly towards the corner where Jean was trying to dress Edward in a long blond wig. Of course it would be him. Every creepy think that happened on Harmony Street was related to Jean in one way or another. Even the shopkeeper from the clothes shop had asked me to look out for him too. “Why is it always him?”

“Some people are just born that way.”

I remembered what Jean told me about his birth. “A child of the devil.” As much as I rejected the notion of God and the devil (and the religions that came with them), I could not help but think that the people who considered Jean a cursed child may have had a point.

“No, not of the devil.” Jeshua smiled tenderly, but before I could ask anything else, he carefully steered the conversation away from Jean. “So, are you willing to take the viola with you?”

“I’ll take it.” I did not put much thought into my decision. It just sounded like the right thing to do.

“Good, good.” Jeshua’s smile turned into a good-natured grin. “You know, this viola has been in the shop for a very long time. I have had a few other instruments, but they’re always gone almost as soon as I put them up for sale. The viola, though… It’s almost as if people can’t see it. And when they do, they think it’s a violin, and get disappointed when I tell them it isn’t.”

“I believe you. I completely believe you.” I laughed. One of the first things I noticed when I started playing the viola was that it was an instrument easily overlooked and underappreciated. I did not like viola jokes (there were so many of them), and I felt protective of my chosen instrument, like it was my personal mission to improve the viola’s reputation. Jeshua’s story was exactly the kind of thing that made me face-palm and roll my eyes on a regular basis, but there was something in the way he told it that compelled me to laugh and release the tension I was only half-aware I was carrying.

It took my friends about half an hour to choose presents for Oliver, and another hour and a half to decide how much of Jeshua’s shop they wanted to take home with them. Oliver decided to take the music box as his present from Jeshua, because he liked the symbolism of the box allowing its previous owner to show who he really was. Luce fell in love with the story of every other object she saw, and she had a hard time limiting her purchases to things she could carry home on her own. Jeshua said nothing more about his price for my new viola, but I had a feeling that I would never forget about my promise.

“If you ever need any more help, Oscar, I will be happy to come to your aid.” Jeshua told me as we headed out of the shop. I was the last one to leave. “I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” I left Jeshua’s charity shop with a warm feeling in my chest. Despite our weird conversation and the foreboding future that most likely awaited Jean, I decided I liked Jeshua and his peaceful aura. He saved my life once, and he wanted to keep looking out for me.

It was much later, when I was lying in bed next to a snoring Oliver, that the warmth finally dissipated. In its place came a vague sense of dread, of fear that I was missing a piece of crucial information in the whole mess related to Jean.

And then I realised that Sid and Sayyid knew Jean by name, even though they had never met him before.