Misunderstandings

“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