Let me tell you

A novel I'm not writing

An explanation for this. Or perhaps more of an excuse?

I sat back and watched the sun set over the Mediterranean Sea, marvelling at how nature chose to show me oranges and indigos I thought could only be imagined by the human mind. My wrinkled skin soaked in the remaining rays of the day. As the day performed its magnificent finale, I turned to Derrick. His attention was shared between the show over the sea and its enraptured audience.

His smirk set me off. "What?"

"You're such a cheeseball!" said Derrick.

I couldn't hold the self-deprecting snicker back long before it burst out. "Yeah, well, I'm old, OK? You let yourself do things like that when you're old. Give me a break."

Derrick proffered a tilted glass and said, "Cheers."

My own glass collided with his, accompanied by my voice replying, "To you being such an old cynic."

I was happy. I had lived well, was comfortable, and content. I looked forward to the next day, but could tell myself I'd had a good run were I to tumble down the steps to my villa and crack my head open on the cobblestones. I guess I'd earned it. I worked hard, did good, and affected change. My reward was the direct result of my actions of the past nine odd decades.

There had been strife... hadn't there? I had watched helplessly as my best friend died while rock climbing, his body tumbling end over end towards the rocks below.

Derrick?

I turned to look at him.

"What's wrong?"

Janet always knew when she needed to ask about my mood and when she needed to let me keep to myself. She knew better than I did. I couldn't answer her not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't know what to say. The two of us were alone together watching the sun go down. I stared at her face, her graying hair, her concerned eyes. I had outlived her by 15 years. She left me in her sleep.

She left me for another man when she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would never be more important than my work.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy?" said Derrick.

I looked up at the sky, looking for Orion's belt. The sun was still considering its descent, lighting the sky with a tastefully chosen array of colours to distract its viewers while it made its decision.

"The sun is setting," I offered lamely.

"She did die."

Confusion, pain, and accusation rapidly travelled to my face as I turned to my longtime friend. My expression spoke volumes for me as I struggled to find a question to end the silence.

"She died, she lived, she left you, you left her... You tried them all. I died a few different ways too. You're very morbid."

My breathing became laborious. My brain tried to convince me that I was confused.

I was young again. A part of me was talking as if from a distance. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm cold."

My last thoughts were unheard.

Posted by majiksznak at November 11, 2004 11:18 PM