Page 15 of Pride

Two machines set up at the side of the wall began to blow out fake money into the crowd. Some people laughed. Some made a grab for it, maybe to keep as a memento of the night. But I got the irony. I wasn’t about to chase the notes he was showering into the crowd.

As the machines slowed and then stopped, the noise died down, and he spoke again.

“While I have your attention.

As I stand here today.

I’ll tell you what I think.

I’ll have my say.”

The spotlight turned red, and I hadn’t noticed before, but there were two buckets either side of him on the wall. He picked up the one to his left and began to pour it down the wall. The red paint looked like blood gushing down the bricks. In fact, it seemed thinner than paint. I had no idea what it was, but as it spread down the wall, words began to appear. Words that looked like they’d been spray-painted onto the brickwork. Like a magictrick, the words; pride, honour, respect, humble, and self-worth appeared.

Once he’d drained the first bucket, he picked up the second and repeated his actions, exposing the words; dignity, morals, humility, selfless. And when he’d finished, he stood tall, red trickling down the wall of words as he continued.

“To me,

Pride means spilling your blood, sweat and tears.

Working to provide for your family for years and years.

So Molly doesn’t have to rely on free school meals.

And little Tommy gets a role model that shows him what it means,

to work for a living.

To take pride in your strife.

To build something for others that you didn’t have in your life.

A legacy not founded on privilege or greed.

But one built on honour and sacrifice and need.

When she stayed with the children,

Even after he left.

And she works three jobs,

though she feels bereft.

And her eldest excels at all he does.

And she sits in the school hall listening to the applause.

Prickles on her skin and shivers down her spine.

As they read all the accolades he’s achieved.

And she says to herself,

that

boy

is