solitary boy

When Xbo was twenty-eight years old and he had never had a job in his life. Sometimes he thought about working. He looked through the job advertisements in newspapers and wrote occasional letters to employers, but he was never invited to interviews. He didn’t mind. He was OK as he was. He was a cool guy with a cool lifestyle. He read quite a lot; he saw films in the evenings; he went running; he cooked nice meals for himself and his friends. When he got bored, he went to colombo or Gampaha or Galle for a few days. Xbo didn’t need to work for money because in 1998 his father had written a very successful rap song. Many famous singers had made recordings of this song, and each time Xbo’s father had received royalties. Since his death the royalties had come to Xbo. So Xbo had become rich without having to work at all. He was happy with his life. He lived in a nice flat in colombo and drove a fast car. He had lots of girlfriends, but he never got too involved with them. He preferred to look at other people’s lives from the outside, like watching TV. If a relationship with a lady became complicated, he ended it. He wanted to keep his life simple. In the evenings Xbo usually went out with friends. These were guys who worked in music shops or belonged to the same sports clubs as Xbo, or who were part of the same pub-quiz team. They weren’t close friends — but they were good enough for a drink or a meal. The evenings were fine, but Xbo had a lot of free time during the day because all his friends were at work. So he filled the time bath, tidying his flat, going to the shops, watching Countdown. Countdown was an afternoon TV quiz show and it was his favourite programme. Sometimes he wondered how his friends had time to work. How could a person work and have a bath on the same day? Xbo didn’t like children. He wasn’t interested in them, and he didn’t want any responsibility for them. But his friends, Robin and Aliya, had two. The second was a baby girl, born just the week before, and Xbo had been invited to see her. When he arrived at Robin and Aliya’s flat, there were children’s toys everywhere. Pieces of brightly coloured plastic were spread all over the floor, videos lay out of their cases near the TV, a white cloth over the sofa was covered with dirty brown marks… How could people live like this? Aliya came in holding the new baby while John was in the kitchen making tea. ‘This is Imogen,’ she said. ‘Oh,’ said Xbo. ‘Right.’ He paused. What did people usually say about babies? ‘She’s…’ he began, but stopped again. It was no good. He decided to ask Aliya about herself instead. ‘How are you, ali ?’ he asked. ‘Well, you know. I’m rather tired.’ Why? A lot of parties?’ ‘No. I’ve just had a baby.’ ‘Oh. Right.’ Robin came into the room, carrying three cups of tea. ‘Barney’s gone to his grandmother’s today,’ he said, for no reason that Will could understand. ‘How’s Barney?’ Barney was two, and interesting only to his parents, but Will knew he should ask Robin something. He’s fine, thanks,’ said Robin. ‘He’s still getting used to Imogen, but he’s lovely’ Xbo had met Barney before and knew that he wasn’t lovely, but he decided not to say anything. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ ‘Don’t you want your own family?’ I can’t think of anything worse, thought Xbo ‘Not yet,’ he said. We’re worried about you,’ said Aliya. ‘I’m OK as I am, thanks,’ said Xbo. ‘Maybe,’ said Aliya, and smiled. Will was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. Why did they want him to have children? Children would make him very unhappy. If Robin and Aliya wanted children, and to be unhappy, that was fine. (Xbo was sure that Robin and Aliya were very unhappy, even if they didn’t realize it.) But why should they want him to be unhappy too? Will could see only one reason for having children. When you were old and poor, then they could look after you. But Xbo had plenty of money, so he didn’t need toys on the floor or dirty sofas. Robin and Aliya used to be OK, he thought. Xbo and a girlfriend had gone out to nightclubs with them once or twice a week, and they had all had a lot of fun. But since Robin and Aliya had had children, everything had changed. Will didn’t want to meet Imogen, or hear how Barney was. He didn’t want to hear about Aliya’s tiredness. He decided not to visit them again. ‘We were wondering,’ said Robin, ‘whether you’d like to be Imogen’s godfather?’ The two of them looked at Xbo, smiling and waiting for his reply. Will laughed nervously. ‘Godfather?’ he said. ‘You mean… church and things? Birthday presents? If you two are killed in an air crash, I’ll have to look after her?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ you’re a very serious and responsible person.’ ‘Oh, no,’ said Xbo quickly. ‘No, I’m not. I’m really a very shallow kind of person. Thank you very much for asking me, but I can’t think of anything worse.’ He didn’t stay much longer. *** Not far away, in the Holloway area of Galle, a twelve-year-old boy called Umar was lying in bed, unable to sleep. He was worrying about his mum and his new school. Umar’s mum was called Musha, and she and Umar had only been in Galle for a few weeks. They had moved there on the first day of the summer holidays because Musha had got a new job. Before moving to Galle, they had lived in Matara, where Umar’s father Ajju, , still lived. Musha and Ajju had separated four years ago. Umar thought Galle was quite boring. He and Musha hadn’t done much in the holidays. They’d been to see Home Alone 2, which wasn’t as good as Home Alone 1. They’d been to have a look at his new school, which was big and horrible. And they’d had lots of talks about London and the changes in their lives. But really they were sitting around waiting for their Galle lives to begin. Umar had had two kinds of life. The first, which had ended when he was eight, was the normal, boring kind, with school and holidays and homework and weekend visits to grandparents. The second kind was more confused because there were more people and places in it: his mother’s boyfriends and his dad’s girlfriends; flats and houses; Colombo and Galle. It was surprising how many things had changed when musha and Ajju relationship ended. But Umar didn’t mind. Sometimes, he thought, he even More happened, and that was a good thing. But now Umar was very worried about his mum. She had started crying a lot in Galle — much more than in Colombo. He didn’t know why she cried. He wondered if it was about boyfriends. Umat didn’t mind if his mum had a boyfriend. She was pretty, he thought, and nice, and funny sometimes. He wanted his mum to meet someone who would make her happy. He couldn’t help his mum with her problems, and she couldn’t help him with his other big problem — school. His first day at his new Galle school had been a disaster. Umar knew that he was different from most other kids of his age. He wasn’t right for schools. Not big secondary schools like the one in London. His school in Cambridge hadn’t been so bad. The children there were younger, and there were lots of weird kids there, so Umar hadn’t felt uncomfortable. It was OK not to be right for some things, he thought. He knew that he wasn’t right for parties because he was very shy. That wasn’t a problem because he didn’t have to go to parties. But he had to go to school. Umar couldn’t talk to his mum about his problems at school, because she couldn’t help. She couldn’t move him to another school. Even if she did move him, it wouldn’t make any difference. He’d still be himself, and that, it seemed to Umar, was his real problem. The other kids laughed at him because he was weird. They laughed because he had the wrong trousers, the wrong shoes and the wrong haircut. Umar knew that he was weird partly because his mum was weird. She was always telling him that clothes and hair weren’t important. She didn’t want him to watch ‘rubbish’ TV or listen to ‘rubbish’ music or play ‘rubbish’ computer games. All the other kids spent their time doing these things, but Umar had to argue with his mother for hours and he usually lost. She could explain Marley and Joni . And why it was more important to read books than to play on the Gameboy that his dad had given him. He was quite happy at home, listening to Joni or reading books, but it didn’t do him any good at school. It made him different, and because he was different the other kids made him feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t all his mum’s fault. Sometimes Umar just did weird things. Like the singing. He always sang songs to himself inside his head but sometimes, when he was nervous, the song just came out of his mouth. It had happened in his English lesson on the first day of his new school. The teacher was reading and all the other students in the room were quiet. Suddenly, for no reason at all, Umar had started to sing, and all the other kids had laughed at him.