Mr. Nobody
By: Mark James
Tags: Childhood, Outliers, Fiction, Attachment, Abuse

Mr. Nobody

How to nurture an inferiority complex

Photo by Luke Pennystan on Unsplash

He knew immediately he’d made a mistake. On a good day, he’d feel the sting of her bullwhip-like tongue for shutting the car door too hard, but for locking the keys in the car, he was going to pay dearly. The realization of what he had done sent a familiar rush of adrenaline throughout his system. It felt like there was an elevator in his chest and its cables had snapped suddenly, sending it and his heart plummeting through his body and deep into the ground beneath his feet. His pupils dilated. His respirations increased. He wanted to run, run fast and far away where she would never find him.

“How could you be so stupid?!” shouted Frankie’s mom, at a volume intended to forewarn other shoppers in the parking lot of her son’s stupidity. He looked down at his feet. He wanted to be invisible. She hated him. Her tone indicated that this quick trip into town to get him a bus pass for his first year of high school was about become a terrifying roller coaster ride he could not stop.

“I’m sorry, mum. I really am!” he pleaded.

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Frankie! You’re useless. Just like your useless father!” She was livid. She looked to the heavens, and with what appeared to be a genuine appeal said, “Lord, give me strength!” Frankie recognized this prayer of hers all too well. He only heard it when he had done something really stupid, which was often.

He thought he was being grown up and helping her out by locking the car door before he shut it. He even felt a sense of pride as he pushed the button down and swung the door shut. She’ll be pleased she doesn’t have to come behind me and check if I locked the door, he thought. He was wrong. She had left the car keys in the ignition, and he had locked them in there. He was useless, just like she said.

“What’re we going to do now, Frankie? I suppose you think the doors are just going to magically unlock themselves, don’t you?” she said.

Terrified, Frankie fought hard to suppress his tears. He did not want his mother to see him cry. Not now. That would make her more angry. He could hear her reaction, what’re you crying for? I haven’t touched you! Anyone would think I beat you!

You did, he said to her bravely in this imaginary conversation that thankfully could only be heard in his head.

“Don’t… you?!” she asked, this time louder and with a look in her eyes that said, do not ignore me. She hated to be ignored.

“No. I’m sorry, mum. I didn’t think…”

“That’s exactly, it!” she snapped. “You don’t think! That’s your problem!” She turned and walked off with Frankie’s little sister holding her hand. She did not look back to see if he was following. He followed at a safe distance.

Before entering the post office, she turned to Frankie and said, “Do not embarrass me in here.” He nodded to acknowledge he understood and followed her into the building. People were standing in line at the counter. Frankie followed his mother and sister around the line to the photo booth in the back. He didn’t say a word. She handed him the coins for the photo booth without looking at him. He stepped inside, took a seat, and drew the curtain.

He took a deep breath as he looked at his reflection in the glass and saw a scared little boy staring back at him. Don’t mess this up, Frankie, he told himself. Don’t mess this up. Not here. Not in front of all these people, Please! Doing the best he could to bear the pressure he felt from outside as it invaded the booth and pierced every ounce of his being, he steadied his shaking hand and inserted the coins into the slot.

Poof! The first flash. Frankie worried he had closed his eyes during this first photo. He side-stepped thoughts of his mother’s reaction to a photo in which his eyes were closed and concentrated hard on keeping them open for the following photos. Poof! The second flash. Again, he wasn’t sure if he had closed his eyes or blinked at the wrong time. The flash was so bright. He concentrated for the next one. Poof! The third flash.

After the last photo had been taken, Frankie took a deep breath and stepped outside the booth. He stood dead still and said nothing. He looked only at the little cubbyhole on the side of the booth into which the photo strip arrives when it’s done. The tension outside the booth was so strong, Frankie was sure every person in the post office could feel it. Poof! The fourth flash. Oh, no! Panic flooded his veins. His mother turned toward the booth. Rage spread over her face as she realized what had happened. Her eyes moved from the booth to Frankie and shot scornful daggers at him. His heart sank.

The photo strip appeared. Of the four photos in the strip, the bottom one was empty. It was a photo of just the background in the booth. Frankie’s mum reached past him and grabbed the photo strip. She looked at it, let out a disappointed sigh, handed it to Frankie, and walked toward the exit with her daughter in tow. He followed with his head down. He felt everyone in the post office knew how stupid he was and what he had done.