9 June 2012
The cry echoes around the room, the noise driving through Daniel Bakers’ skull and into his head. Eyes blink open as he gives an annoyed groan. The telephone’s shrill appeal makes him press his thumb and forefinger into each eye. He looks over at it on the table next to his armchair, in front of the bottle of whiskey and open packet of cigarettes. The ringing stops and Daniel hears his own voice telling the caller that he is unavailable and to leave a message. “Dad, it’s Becky. I know you’re there... I’ll just keep ringing until you answer me.” He turns his head in the opposite direction, even though his daughter is not in the room and cannot see his dismissal. She has been trying to get hold of him for a week and a half. She thinks she’ll were him down, but she won’t. “I’m just going to come over if you keep playing this game.” Daniel reaches over and picks up the receiver. “I’m here.” “Why do you ignore me dad? I was hoping to come over and see you this weekend, if you’re in.” He unleashes a mighty sigh that crackles down the phone and bounces back to ears. He looks up at the ceiling; yellowed from too much cigarette smoke and gets a whiff of stale butts from the overflowing ashtray. Curtains that are never opened cover the dirt smeared glass of the windows. “I’m not. I mean, I can’t...” Daniel slumps back into the chair. “I won’t be here.” “I haven’t seen you for ages and... well, I miss you.” He sees her face in his minds eye. He admits he misses her too. He rubs his chin; fingers slide over tatty black hair. “I’m sorry Becky, I can’t. Not this week. Maybe in a few weeks, ok?” “I want to see you. We weren’t just family, we were friends. Do you remember that?” His chest aches as he hears the disappointment in her voice. They had used to be close. “I told you I’m not in.” He is met with silence before her voice comes back hard. “Bye then.” As he puts the phone down, he squints at the clock and sees it is only eight thirty in the evening. The television, the only company he has nowadays, is on with the volume low. He doesn’t have the courage to turn the thing off. If he did, he would have to sit in silence and the gloom, be alone with his thoughts. He has learned that is something he should never do. But he finds himself distracted from the image of the young female newsreader on the screen. She might as well be speaking in an alien language. He can’t get his daughters face out of his mind now. She has her mother’s eyes and pointed chin, always has her black hair long, except for a short period when she was twenty-one and sported a boyish style he never liked. Pushing against the worn leather on the arm rests, Daniel rises from the chair. His feet make little circles as they move him towards the fireplace. Several staggered steps manage to get him to the mantelpiece, where he grips the edge of it to hold himself steady against the bout of light-headedness. He looks down, head almost touching the dust layered wood. He looks at the bottle of whiskey on the tall table by his chair, two thirds empty. He should really have something decent to eat. He’ll have to go out tomorrow and get and another bottle. He turns back to the mantelpiece and the framed photographs standing in lines along it, like a parade of mismatched soldiers. He reaches out with a finger and strokes away the dust that has gathered on the glass. The image of his wife’s cheek becomes clear. Stephanie smiles at him, her face perfectly framed by her long dark hair, which fall and drops of her shoulders like a silk waterfall. He cannot think of that face now though without too seeing how it looked in that hospital bed, bandaged and bruised, the last time he would ever see it alive. He picks the photo up and turns to move away from the fireplace, but he feels heavy. It’s a struggle to lift his feet. He falls, hits the floor and the air rushes out of him like burst tyre. He tries to get his hands under him, lift himself, but it’s as if gravity has increased beyond the norm and is holding him down. He lets the photo slip out of his fingers. It land face down on the floor. Closing his eyes, he starts to sink.
*
Blackness smothers Daniel. His eyes do not work, can’t focus on anything but the darkness. He can’t even see himself and he starts to panic. He struggles, but it’s like being strapped down by impossible restraints. The darkness turns to a blinding white in an instant. A searing pain goes through his mind, but stops as soon as it came. Then he is free, with sunlight tingling his face and arms, blue sky above him and green grass under his feet. Frowning down at it, he wonders how he got here... “Head’s up Danny!” A young man is throwing a tennis ball. No, not just any young man; Phil Morris, unmistakable in that blue baseball cap he never takes off. They are outside, on the large field outside the university campus, unwinding after a particularly boring lecture. He stares open mouthed as the ball quickly gets larger as it dips towards him. Phil points. “Catch it Danny boy!” The ball sails past his right ear. He does not flinch, not like last time... or the first time. Something should happen now, something important. What the hell is going on? “Come on Dan.” It’s another of his friends. “Get your head in the game.” He looks over at John Bristow, who is looking back and shaking his head in dismay at Daniel’s lack of catching skill. Daniel stares back; he has not seen these men for more than fifteen years! “What’s the matter with you?” John says. “Get the ball, will you?” Right, of course, he’s supposed get the ball, like he did back then, when he unintentionally missed the catch. He spins and starts to jog in the direction the ball flew in. He can’t see it, but he can see a young woman sitting up, a scowl on her lightly freckled face. He sees it then, the ball resting on her open palm. “Lost something?” she calls as he trots over. He stops, feet nearly trampling the blanket she is sitting on. The book she was reading is face down on the blanket, her bag next to it. “Stephanie?” He whispers her name. “Steph?” She looks confused now. “Do we know each other?” Daniel falls to his knees. “My God, Steph.” “I said; do we know each other?” He tries to take her hand, but she recoils. He stops, withdraws his hands. “Sorry, I just... wanted my ball back.” She reaches out and hand it too him. Their fingers touch as she rolls onto his open palm. “Be more careful next time.” Stephanie reaches out for her book. “There won’t be a next time.” Stephanie’s eyes dark over the page as she tries to pick up where she left off. “Fair enough.” “There won’t be a next time, because after today, every time we are on this field, I’ll be with you. And you won’t be reading, and I won’t be playing catch.” “Is that so?” She gives a stunned giggle. “And why would I be with you?” “Because we are going to be great together.” Daniel drops the ball and reaches out to take her hand. She does not recoil, just gazes at him with a curious smile. The sunlight becomes more intense. Golden rays shine down on both of them, but there is no heat, just a blinding brightness he cannot shield himself from. Stephanie’s hand slips from his. He tries to grasp for it, but he has lost sight of her. He tries to turn towards the source of the light and is surprised to see a glowing shape about his size. Slowly, as the light reduces, it becomes more defined until he can make out legs, arms and a head. Even though he can tell the outline, the effervescent light hides its features. He looks back at Stephanie, but she is frozen in time. He tries to reach out, but he is being pulled away. “No! What’s happening?” The light figure speaks, even though there is no mouth. “You are here.” “Where? Where is here? Am I... am I dead?” “You are not what you would call ‘dead’.” “Oh my God, I am. I must be. I fell. Did I have a heart attack?” The shape takes him by the shoulders and the light spreads again. He looks back at Stephanie and sees himself as he was, talking to her as they did all those years ago. He is asking her out, and she is about to say ‘yes’. The light from the being next to him spreads and eventually engulfs him.
*
The light recedes and Daniel feels himself become solid once again. Sitting on a plastic chair, he takes his head out of his hands and looks around. Noise outside the small room sounds muffled through the closed door; feet slapping and squeaking against the hard floor, trolley wheels sliding and hard toned voices. The one he can hear the most, is the only one inside the room; a hard bleep from a nearby heart monitor. He had fallen asleep whilst sitting beside her bed. He had been there for hours just watching her face, making sure that each breath was not her last. The unbroken beep from the heart monitor had woken him and he could somehow feel that his wife was dead. He puts his head in his hands. Tears leak through the gaps and of his wet palms. She would not see her own daughter get married in two months time because of some moron who thought it would be fun to speed around the small housing estate in their car. They had not seen her crossing the street as they race around the corner until it was too late. He imagines their laughing faces suddenly turn to horror as they realise what they have done. He feels a hand on his and looks up. The glowing figure gently pulls him from the chair, but he resists. “Why have you brought me here?” he asks. “You bring yourself here.” “No, this is in the past, an event that brings me pain and suffering. I don’t want to be here.” “You bring yourself here.” “Who are you? What are you doing to me? He looks back into the room as the light engulfs him again. Nurses are entering, but they fade away as if evaporating into mist.
*
As Daniel emerges from the light, he finds himself in another ward. A curtain has been pulled around the bed and the lights have been turned off. It is quiet in here; the
Alone • Opuss № I