“Much unhappiness has
come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.”
- Fydor Dostoyvsky
He sat there with his hands on the steering wheel. Staring
into the distance. Not seeing anything really. Dazed, confused, all those
uncomfortable feelings rushed through him. He felt an uneasiness inside him that
he never felt before. A tear escaped his eye and he didn’t even notice. It had
started to rain. The drops where making quite a noise on the rooftop of the
car, but he didn’t hear it. He just sat there, staring. He had parked his car
somewhere remote at the end of the parking lot near Dartmoor National Park. He
hadn’t told anybody where he’d gone off to. Nobody knew where he was, why he
sat there. He could just run off and nobody would care, or so he thought.
Suddenly he smashed his fist onto the steering wheel
in anger. The tears came with it. He brushed them aside as if he didn’t want anyone
to see. Who would? The rain was now streaming down his car window and the
pattering on the rooftop had become louder. He yelled, no one would hear him
now, and if they did, he couldn’t care less. He cried out frustrated,
heartbroken, but most of all, very confused. Suddenly he felt tired, so very
tired. He put both his arms on the steering wheel en let his head rest on his
arms. His shoulders shook for a while still sobbing, but then he just sat there,
gazing.
Time past and dusk fell. He hadn’t moved an inch. What was the point really?
What was the point of ever moving again? The rain had stopped and a cold mist
was spreading throughout the countryside. The mist crept up from the moors,
surrounding his car and he didn’t notice it at all. He just felt so empty and
alone.
“As a rule we
disbelieve all the facts and theories for which we have no use.”
- William James
After some time, it seemed like hours, he raised his
head, rubbed his face and saw how dark it had become. He took his mobile phone
and stared at it. He started dialling the number and waited. ‘Hello?’ he heard
on the other end.
He couldn’t speak still, his throat sore from yelling out loud and crying.
‘Hello? Who’s there? Is it you? Where are you? I’m worried sick! Answer me!
Sebastian! Is it you?’ the voice on the other end sounded frightened at least
he thought.
‘Yes it’s me’, he cleared his throat.
‘What’s wrong? Sebastian, where are you? Come home, please!’ ‘I can’t’, he
whispered. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t’. ‘Sebastian!’ the voice on the other end
cried out in fear! ‘What do you mean you can’t? You’re scaring the hell out of
me!’
He sighed. He couldn’t deal with this, not now, not anymore. He trembled as he
started to talk or rather whisper:
‘Listen, I love you more than I can say, you know I do. Let me finish please. I
don’t want you to wait for me anymore. You know why I have to do this. Please,
don’t cry, please don’t go searching for me, I have to let you go, I have
to…‘
His voice broke as he was thinking of the man he loved so very much and whom he
had to hurt. He heard him crying on the other end of the phone, sobbing really,
like he’d done not long ago. ‘I’m dying Mark, you and I both know it. It’s not
fair to you to dump an invalid on you for quite a few years and then see me
die, in agony I might add.’ More sobbing on the other end. ‘It’s no picnic
Mark’, he whispered.
‘What are you going to do then? Kill yourself? I won’t have it, you know, I
just won’t! Please tell me where you are. What did the doctor say that made you
decide to this radical action without consulting me! Don’t I count? Don’t I
matter?’ Mark was screaming. ‘Where are you, damned? Tell me! I have earned the
right to at least say goodbye!’
He sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter Mark, you’ll never make it in time. For God sake
I’m diagnosed with Alzheimer’s just as my dad was! I don’t want to forget you
in years to come, I don’t want you to look at me as a slobbering, babbling
idiot and in the end I won’t even know who you are! I don’t want you to have to
take care of me, change my nappies while our friends are having a great time
dancing and drinking a pint in the pub! Don’t you get that! That’s what’s
coming Mark! I know! I saw it with my mum and dad! I don’t want you to put your
life on hold for me! I want you to remember the good days, the fun days, the
love and the sex and all the things in between. I’m just 38 and so are you. This
could happen all in a year’s time the doctor told me, maybe longer, maybe not.
You see, Mark, I just don’t want to.’
He heard his lover sobbing some more and then whispering: ‘But what if I do?
Have you even considered that for a moment?’ ‘No, I haven’t’, he answered. ‘I’m
letting you go. You’re off the hook.’
‘But I don’t want to Sebastian, I love you! Please let me take care of you!’
‘I’m sorry, Mark, I love you too. Goodbye, take care of yourself’. ‘No no,
Sebastian, no! Where are you?’ ‘Dartmoor, bye my love’.
He switched off the phone before Mark could answer.
His phone rang. He let it. He left the phone in the car as he got out. It was
cold as he stood there outside in the mist in only his suit. He almost wished
he had brought a coat with him. Well never mind that. It was time. He felt a
knot in his stomach, but also a bit of relief. It was the right thing to do. He
really did not want Mark to feel like he was a kind of nurse for the rest of
his life, for however long that would be.
He put his suit collar up and started walking into the moors. It was dark and kind
of eerie. Thankfully he had brought a small torch with him. As he started
walking he could still hear his phone ringing inside the car. Tears welled up
in his eyes. Stop it, he thought, no time for being sentimental.
All kind of animal noises surrounded him as he walked further onto the moors.
The mist was getting thicker and he couldn’t see the path anymore, which was
his intention anyway. An hour or so passed and he was very far into the moors
and was so very cold. He stumbled a few times over rocks and plunged into
puddles of water. When he came to the place where he wanted to be, he started
to be a bit scared but he stayed determined. ‘I’m sorry, Mark’, he whispered as
he started the climb onto the rocks.
“A small fact:
You are going to die....does this worry you?”
- Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
Mark was out of his mind with worry. He tried calling
and calling Sebastian’s phone but he didn’t get an answer. At long last he
tried to phone Sebastian’s doctor. At first he didn’t want to tell Mark about
their conversation as he was not a family member, but Mark told the doctor what
Sebastian’s plans where. The doctor immediately reacted; he called the local
police department and drove to Mark and Sebastian’s house where he started
talking.
‘Mark, what did Sebastian tell you?’ he asked first. And when Mark started
talking the doctor’s face turned into a whiter shade of pale. ‘Dear God’, the
doctor simply said shaking his head. ‘Get in my car and we’ll drive to
Dartmoor. I’ll explain on the way there’, he said.
Whilst driving the doctor told Mark he had made a mistake. He had tried to call
Sebastian several times but he didn’t answer his phone. He explained there was
a nurse in his employment, who had switched the blood samples from two
patients, Sebastian’s and another man. Yes, Sebastian’s father may have had
Alzheimer’s and Sebastian was tested, but thankfully he did not have the
disease. The doctor only found that out, a few hours ago and since then tried
to call Sebastian. At first his phone seemed to be busy, and later he just
didn’t answer. Mark sat next to the doctor and stared at him in fright.
‘Do you know what he is doing right now?’ he cried out. ‘He is committing
suicide because of false information! Because he doesn’t want me to nurse him,
or to see him not recognizing me anymore! Do you know what you have done!?’
Tears of anger and fear were on Mark’s face. It took all of his restraint not
to physically attack the man sitting beside him.
When they arrived at Dartmoor the police was already there. A fairly large
police force with helicopters and searchlights where busy looking for
Sebastian. Mark saw his car and stumbled to it.
He was stopped by an officer. He explained who he was.
‘Did he bring his phone?’ Mark asked. ‘I’m sorry sir, the phone was found
inside the car.’ the officer replied handing him the phone. Mark stared at the
phone and then at the police force who were searching for the love of his life.
He felt scared, so very scared.
“When you reach the
end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.”
- Abraham Lincoln
It seemed like ages before he’d reached the top of the
rocks. His suit was all wet. What was he thinking climbing in his best suit and
shoes anyway? The batteries of his torch were running low. He hadn’t thought of
checking them beforehand. ‘Bit stupid eh?’ Now he started to talk to himself
too. Great, it started already. ‘Well, dad, I’m not far away now, joining you
in a while!’ His foot slipped on a wet spot of the rock and he almost fell
down. He grabbed on for dear life.
‘Damn’, he cursed, ‘not that it matters much as I will be dead in a few
minutes.’ He started laughing hysterically. ‘Not now, Sebastian, not now. Just
wait a bit longer.’ He composed himself and climbed further on. Finally he
reached the top. ‘Not bad with this outfit’ he mumbled. At the weak light of
his torch he looked across the moor.
‘Gosh, that’s a long way down. I don’t think I’m ready yet. O God what have I
gotten myself into. What have I done! I’m not feeling up to it now! They all
tell me to lighten up, well I’m up here and where are they all now? They should
all just shut the fuck up!’ He shouted in anger to the quiet moor and his voice
echoed back. He sat back on a piece of rock and reached inside his suit jacket
where he found a little flask of whisky which he had put there this afternoon
before driving here. ‘Well, here’s to you dad’ he said taking a sip. ‘Dear God,
what have I gotten myself into?’ he said while making a face. ‘Started drinking
today of all days, hurting the one I love the most in the entire world, killing
myself, well, don’t know about that last one yet.. Thought I did, but looking
down, that’s an awful long fall now is it! Painful too.’
He took another sip. ‘Talking to myself again, freezing to death, that’s
another option. Maybe I just should throw myself down off this rock.’ He looked
down again realising the depth. Then he sat down on the rock once more sipping
his whisky. Suddenly he started to cry, thinking of his dad at the end. He saw
his mum caring for his dad, changing his nappies, putting him to bed, or in the
beginning of his dad’s illness, how she got all the insults thrown at her. He
remembered her eyes, the tiredness, the emptiness he saw in them, but also the
love for his father, even after he didn’t recognize her anymore. And after his
dad died, his mum was so tired; her heart gave in after a year. He lost both of
them within a year. He was only a young man in his early twenties. He started
sobbing again, feeling those feelings all over, again and again. The whisky
didn’t help much. He somehow would have thought his own life would have turned
out better than this. When he came to terms with his homosexuality and found
Mark, he couldn’t be happier. He always felt sexuality was fluid, whether
you're gay, straight or bisexual. He happened to fall head over heels in love
with Mark. Sloppy, chaotic Mark. But he didn’t mind all that, he was organised
enough for the both of them. Mark later said he was hooked on Sebastian’s blue
eyes and dark hair. He himself was strangely attracted to Mark’s raised left
eyebrow. O God, he missed Mark so much it hurt! He sat there on that stupid
rock and with his stupid suicide plan and now he had the chance he chickened
out! He didn’t even have his phone with him so he could call Mark one more
time. Stupid idiot!
Angrily he wiped the tears off his face, put the whisky back in his pocket and
stood up. He walked slowly to the edge of the rim. He tried not to look down,
but of course he did. Nothing but darkness lied ahead. Whatever he decided, he
thought. There would be darkness anyway. One way or the other.
He took a deep breath, ready to take the leap.
“I may not have gone
where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”
- Douglas Adams, the long dark Tea-time of the Soul
When he awoke everything was fuzzy. His head hurt like
hell. He dozed off again, of and on, awake, asleep, awake again, never really
all there. Faint voices, in the distance, cries, Mark’s face, bags under his
eyes. His doctor, oh God not more bad news is there? Where the hell was he?
Where was his dad? His mum? He should be dead, shouldn’t he? Oh the pain, agony.
Days must have gone by before he woke up again and really saw someone. In his
sleep he saw helicopters with bright lights, heard Mark screaming, and saw himself
falling, falling downward of the rock. He slipped on top of the rock when he
wanted to take the leap. Banged his head and thankfully fell only twenty five meters
or so on a flat piece of rock, not all the way down. Or that’s what they told
him anyway. He laid there in the hospital bed listening to his doctor as he was
making excuses about the mistake he made. His leg was upright in a casket,
broken of course, his head in bandages not really that bad thankfully but still
a bit smashed. Fortunately the police helicopters were already nearby when he
fell.
After the doctor had gone, and he had taken all the responsibility, even to the
police, Mark was the only one left in the room.
He took his hand and just sat there. ‘What were you thinking?’ he just said.
‘God, what would I have done without you?’
He opened his eyes, saw the raised left eyebrow and tried smiling. Ouch, that
hurt. Mark was caressing his hand and smiled: ‘It will hurt for quite a while
longer, you sod. But I’m so grateful you’re still alive.’
‘So am I’ he whispered with a hoarse voice. ‘I regretted it the minute as I was
standing there.’ Mark leaned over to him and carefully planted a kiss on his
lips. ‘Don’t you worry about it anymore, just see that you get well again. Go
to sleep, I’ll see you later.’
And as his eyes closed and he slipped into a deep sleep he could just overhear
a concerned Mark and his doctor talking about his bang on the head. About some
swelling that would not go away, if he would survive his fall after all.
And then he slipped into darkness.
© KH
