GOOD FRIDAY BLUES

Ralph had been down of late and he was still very much in hibernation mode both mentally and physically. Winter had outstayed its welcome and it seemed premature to even talk of Spring even though the recent lighter evenings had brought some vague sense of hope.

Relating to Jesus and his suffering 2000 years ago seemed a million miles away from where Ralph's mental state was at currently. For right here, right now, in the year 2023 he was far too consumed with his own suffering to even contemplate sharing any compassion for some historical dude who had the ability to perform miracles whenever he chose to. Why should he need to feel sorry for someone with the capacity to carry out super hero type shit? It didn't make any real sense.

But no matter how he tried to ignore the idea of Christ on the cross, he couldn't shake the atmosphere of Good Friday from his conscience. It was like an all pervading vibe that hung in the air and it bothered him that he was even thinking about it when he had so much chaos of his own teenage life to figure out. Of course, it didn't help that his crazy uncle (on his mother's side) had come to stay for a few weeks, using his late father's old study to finish some draft of some stupid book he was working on.

It was on the morning of Good Friday that his weirdo Uncle Robert reminded him that he should take some time on this "sacred day" to honour the suffering of Christ.

"You know, Ralph, sometimes it does us good to think of something beyond our own selves and remember that suffering is the common demoniator of all of our existence. Jesus's sacrifice on the cross reminds us of this fact."

Ralph had only wanted to grab a Coke Zero from the refrigerator before going back to his bedroom to play Call Of Duty/Modern Warfare 2 and his uncle's mini-sermon caught him off guard, almost as if he'd been lying in wait to spring it upon him when his defences were down.

"Why do you think I care?"

Looking at him in a sad looking type of way that made him want to punch his uncle's face in, Ralph restrained himself from doing anything too crazy and waited to hear what he had to say in response.

"Because you've suffered too, kid and I think it might help soften your heart to know you're not alone."

Ralph could find nothing to say in response to his uncle's statement and so with that returned to his room and nearly broke the hinges of his bedroom door after slamming it tight closed.

Clocking up a considerable body count that morning with his COD squad of friends online, Ralph had managed to block out his uncle's strange intervention in the kitchen from his mind. To Ralph it felt as if his uncle had just pushed his religous bullshit on him without any invitation like some sort of religous predator. What even gave him any right to do that?

But later, when headed to the bathroom to take a piss, he paused for a moment by the office door where his uncle was writing.

Standing there, barely breathing for fear of alerting his Uncle Robert's attention, he could hear the sound of some old school Disney-like music and through it what sounded like a man sobbing which disturbed him greatly. Was that really his uncle crying in there? If so, then he was even more of a nut-job loser than he previously thought.

As Ralph's steady youthful gush of urine hit the water inside the toilet bowl, he laughed to himself at the contrast between his taking a piss and his uncle's attempt at some sort of sacred communion with the suffering of Christ next door. He could almost imagine his uncle having to break his weeping prayer or crying meditation whilst listening to his deep cascading flow and then the callous youth almost laughed so hard he missed his target.

Enjoying the emphatic flush of the toilet, Ralph went and washed in his hands in the nearby basin and stared at his face in the dirty bathroom mirror which had specks of dried toothpaste all over it from where he tended to spit out each night. Looking at his young smooth features, he wondered just how much likeness he bore to his late father when he was the same age. He found it hard to tell; his mother had mentioned it once or twice before though not lately. Was he slowly growing out of his father's image? Maybe. Somehow that thought made him sad. As long as he looked like him, he would always remember him somehow.

Returning to his room, he could still hear the strange, ethereal music echoing down the hallway and it bothered him that his uncle didn't have the decency to close his door so that the rest of those in the house (i.e him) didn't have to listen to it. It was just downright weird whichever way you tried to explain it.

But as he picked up his soda-sticky joypad again and tried to ignore the strangeness down the hallway, it suddenly occurred to him that no-one had cried in the house since the funeral of his dad. It was as if there had been an unwritten law between himself and his mum that had outlawed any tears being spilled. Whenever conversation got heavy regarding his father's death, they would quickly change the subject and retreat to their own private spaces and repeat the formula day after day, week after week.

Hearing his uncle crying disturbed him because it made him think he was in some ways shedding the tears that neither he or his mum had managed to do lately. But what was his uncle crying about in there? Was it something personal related to his dad (he didn't really know him that well) or was it really because of Christ being nailed to the cross two millennia ago?

Either way, it bummed Ralph out and he suddenly lost the desire to play any more Call Of Duty.

Out in the garden, Ralph sat on the bench his father had made not long before he died next to the pond where he could now see several small fish flitting amongst the overgrown reeds.

Somehow, sitting on the seat felt like a form of communion with his dead father.

Looking back to the house, he saw his uncle standing at the office window and staring directly at him. At first it bothered him that his uncle seemed to be watching him so intently but then Ralph wondered if possibly in his own deluded head he thought he was trying to help him and his mum by bringing things to the surface, feelings that had been buried.

Feeling self conscious all of a sudden he returned to watching the fish dance around in the water. Ralph became so absorbed for a minute or two observing the blue and golden orfes darting around that he was completely taken by surprise once again when he heard his uncle's voice right behind him.

"I'm sorry, kid."

Turning to find his uncle standing right beside him, Ralph couldn't think of anything more eloquent to say than "huh?".

"I'm sorry. I've been struggling to find a way to talk to you and your mum while I've been staying here at the house. I probably shouldn't have come at you with all that Christ stuff earlier. Wasn't fair on you. It was just something that came out of my heart that I wanted to express in the moment."

"It's okay. It was a bit freaky but the whole world's a bit freaky if you ask me."

Presenting a wry smile in response to his nephew's comment, the uncle pulled out a cigar from his shirt pocket and took an age attempting to light it. Sucking on the end of it like one of those characters in an old cartoon, he eventually took an extended drag on it. Ralph was incredulous at his uncle's secret habit.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I'm stressed."

"You're stressed? About what?"

"I got to finish this book for my publisher and the deadline is edging ever closer. It's shaving quite a few years off me right now I got to say. That on top of the fact that me and Auntie Martina have recently agreed to separate."

"You mean divorce? Is that why you've been staying here?"

Nodding, it almost appeared that his uncle was attempting to hide his embarrassment about the situation behind his fog of cigar smoke.

Feeling sorry for his uncle for the first time in his life, Ralph suddenly realised that what he'd said to him in the kitchen earlier was probably something he was saying to himself somehow.

"Is that why you were acting all weird in the kitchen earlier?"

"Yeah. I'm the one suffering at the moment kid and I probably figured by trying to help you I could help myself maybe."

"Perhaps you should go easy on the religion stuff while you're feeling down about your own life stuff? That Christ crucifix story seems a little heavy and sad if you ask me."

Offering his cigar to Ralph as a sort of gesture of goodwill, the teenager accepted it uncertain what to even do with it.

"It's just like when them Indians share their peace pipes in the old movies."

Then, staring at the wet, soggy end of the cigar, Ralph quickly changed his mind about attempting to smoke the thing and passed it back to his uncle.

"No offence but the end of that thing looks disgusting."

Laughing from the depths of his considerable gut, Uncle Robert took the cigar back and let it slowly extinguish itself.

"You want to watch a movie or something?" Ralph asked his uncle, feeling genuinely sorry for the old guy.

"That'd be different. What do you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure but I tend to like horror. The bloodier the better."

As much as it seemed incongrous to watch a horror movie in the middle of the day and on Good Friday of all days (although maybe there was a case to be made there, too) Uncle Robert felt it would be churlish to turn down the kind gesture from his nephew who had come a long way since their altercation in the kitchen several hours earlier. He was turning out, it might said, to becoming positively Christ-like.

As they headed back toward the house, Ralph asked his uncle about the strange music he'd heard him playing earlier in the office.

"Ah. That's very special. Maybe we can cut a deal. If I watch your horror movie, you'll let me play you some of what I consider to be the most sublime music ever written."

"What's sublime?"

"Something of great excellence or beauty."

Pulling a face, Ralph considered the offer.

"Alright. But no opera! I hate that shit."

Uncle Robert would have his work cut out trying to expain to his nephew the difference between an opera and a Bühnenweihfestspiel but as they'd already achieved one miracle in such a short space of time.

Why not two?

It was turning out to be a Good Friday after all.