by Scott Blum
On the fifth day after they returned from the animal shelter, Robert finally visited Don when he was taking an afternoon nap.
“Where have you been?” asked Don.
“I’ve been making final preparations. Are you ready?”
“Definitely ready—the pain is unbearable now! I’ve been tempted to throw caution to the wind and begin treatments.”
“Now is your last chance. There’s nothing wrong with living. But you need to let me know, since today is the day.”
“Today is the day?” Don felt a combination of sadness and excitement. He realized he hadn’t said his proper goodbyes to Suzanne and wondered if he’d be able to.
“Yes, you’ll be able to say goodbye.” Robert seemed to read his mind. “But today is it. Your window will be open later tonight, and it’s the only time I’ll be able to help you through. Are you sure you want to go ahead with it?”
For a moment Don felt a sliver of apprehension, but the pain had begun to permeate his dream state, and he felt a stabbing sensation in his abdomen. “I’m sure,” he finally replied. “What’s next?”
“We need to decide how your physical body will be taken care of. I assume you want to inconvenience Suzanne as little as possible?”
Don had thought about that before, and he cringed when he imagined his wife coming across his body. He played through various scenarios in his head and could imagine the look of horror on her face when she discovered him. He was hoping there was a way to make it as quick and painless as possible, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt that his first priority was to make sure Suzanne wouldn’t be traumatized.
“I don’t want Suzanne to have to do anything,” Don finally said. “Is that possible?”
“Yes, of course it’s possible.”
“How am I going to do it?” He thought of a gun. Pills. A razor blade. Exhaust fumes. Everything he could think of would leave Suzanne with his body to take care of. He didn’t want her to have to deal with it at all. If there was a way for him to instantaneously disappear, that would be optimal.
“I know you’ve thought of several less-elegant solutions, but I think the best option for you would be a car crash.”
Don thought about it for a moment and quickly agreed. His Land Cruiser was paid for, and although he loved it dearly, it wasn’t worth much money. If he did it right, it would happen instantly and his physical remains would burn away without a trace. Either way, Suzanne wouldn’t have to deal with his body in their home. It seemed perfect.
“Unfortunately, there’s one big problem,” Robert continued. “Even in your state it will be nearly impossible to pull off because of the innate ‘fight-or-flight response’ inherent in every human. A premeditated car crash takes several seconds of intense resolve. First, to get the car up to speed, and then to drive deliberately toward the fatal edge.”
“I can do it,” Don said confidently.
“I’m not so sure—it’s really not that easy. I’m certain you’d be able to do yourself serious damage, but actually going all the way is pretty hard. One moment of doubt can make the difference between death and being in a coma for the rest of your life.”
Don was horrified when he thought of being in a coma. Not only would he no longer be in control of his own life, but the medical bills would pile up on Suzanne, which would defeat the whole purpose. Don began to get angry. “Then why did you bring it up? What’s the point if it’s not possible?”
“It’s very possible, but you’re going to need some help.”
“I thought that’s what you were for.”
“It’s true I’m able to help you—but you needed to understand why.”
“Okay.” Don had begun to feel manipulated. “How can you help?”
“I’m going to need to take over.”
“Take over what? You want to drive? Go ahead— there’s just one little problem … you don’t have a body!”
“Exactly. You have to let me take over your body so I can drive without worrying about living or dying.”
Don wasn’t sure he believed him, but there was something strangely confident about the way Robert was talking. He was now positive that he was being manipulated, but he didn’t care. The whole point was that he was going to die anyway, so it didn’t really matter. “Whatever. Fine. How do we do that?”
“All you have to do is agree, and we can start now. I’m in your mind when you’re sleeping, but you need to give me permission to be present when you’re awake. We’ll both be inside your body at the same time, but I’ll take over when we get behind the wheel.”
“How do I know that I can trust you?”
“That’s a very good question. You need to be confident that it’s really what you want to do. This is a sacred agreement and can’t be made with even a modicum of doubt.”
Don didn’t know if he could trust Robert and wondered if it was possible to tolerate the pain just a little while longer for the sake of being with Suzanne until the end. But although he wasn’t sure if he could trust his doppelgänger, he was less sure if he could trust himself. His esophagus was now excruciatingly painful nearly every second of the day, and he had a vague recollection of a disturbing event that had happened when his pain had reached a new peak.
On a recent afternoon when the stabbing sensation in his throat had become so intense that he couldn’t see more than a few inches from his face, there was something that snapped in him and he no longer felt in control of his actions. He remembered feeling an overwhelming desire to get rid of the pain by any means necessary, and he stumbled into the kitchen and began to search for the sharpest knife they had in order to cut the pain out of his throat. Although he didn’t actually hurt himself seriously and the details were fuzzy, one thing was for certain: when he awoke on the floor, all of the knives in the butcher block were strewn around the kitchen and there were small cuts all over the palms of his hands.
Luckily Don had returned to consciousness before Suzanne had come home, because he was sure she would have rushed him to the hospital, which would have ruined everything that he had been working for.
Don didn’t know who he could trust to ensure that he would never return to the hospital, but he knew without a doubt that he couldn’t trust himself. He needed to end his life as soon as possible, before he did something that he couldn’t undo.
“I trust you, Robert,” he sighed after realizing that there was no one else he could trust. “Do whatever you need to do.”
“Good. When you awake, we’ll both be in your body. And then we can complete the final preparations.”
When Don awoke from his nap, he had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was lying on top of him. The pain from his cancer had progressively gotten worse, but this was different. He felt as if he was submerged in water and was trying to breathe through a straw. He kept trying to push his way to the surface of his body, but it was nearly impossible.
Don began to panic while gasping for air, and he started to convulse. He tried to scream out loud, but no sound would come out of his mouth. Finally, after convulsing for nearly a minute, he broke through to the surface of his skin and sucked in several breaths of air. Slowly his heart rate returned to normal as he calmed down.
He heard a familiar voice coming from behind him.
“Are you okay?”
He turned around and didn’t see anyone in the room.
“Who’s there?” Don’s panic returned as the sound of his voice echoed off the walls of his bedroom.
“It’s Robert.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m inside, just like you are. I know it’s strange, but you’ll get used to it pretty quickly.”
Don began to remember what had happened when he was asleep and concluded that he must still be unconscious.
“Oh, I get it—I’m still dreaming.”
“No, you’re very much awake.” Robert sounded annoyed. “You agreed this is what you wanted. Do you want me to help you or not?”
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The reality of the situation returned to Don. “Yes, sorry. Of course I want your help. It’s just that it doesn’t feel real.”
“This is probably the most real you’ve felt in years.”
Don wasn’t sure what Robert meant by that.
“And another thing,” Robert continued. “There’s no need to use your outside voice when talking to me. Remember I’m also inside, so I can hear your thoughts as soon as you think them. You don’t want to worry Suzanne when she comes home and hears you talking to yourself.”
“Why was it so hard to breathe at first?” Don asked silently.
“Sorry about that. I took the first position when I came in, and that will take you some time to get used to. It’s perfectly safe, but I know it feels strange if you don’t know what’s happening. Surrender takes the most strength of any other practice. And surrendering inside your own body is the most difficult of all. Once I realized what was happening, I took the second position, which felt more natural for you.”
“But I couldn’t breathe.”
“That’s because you didn’t need to—I was breathing for you. You’ll get used to it pretty quickly, but I’ll let you remain in first position for a little while longer while we wrap up the details.”
Don wondered how long it would take before he would learn to surrender inside his own body. When he’d first woken up, he felt like he was dying, but then he realized that was the whole point. It also dawned on him that Robert was probably right about his fight-or-flight response. There was something ingrained in his body that was determined to stay alive no matter what his brain wanted. Don finally came to the conclusion that he absolutely needed Robert’s help and was now positive he wouldn’t be able to pull it off alone.
“Are you still up for it?”
“I think so,” Don said after a moment of silence.
“You better know so, because tonight’s the night. Are you absolutely sure? You can still get out of it, but there’s not much time left to change your mind.”
“I’m sure. What’s next?”
“Okay. Find a pen and paper and write down your final thoughts for Suzanne. Tell her why you’re doing this, that you love her, and that everything will be okay.”
Don went to the living room and opened the drawer of Suzanne’s yellow desk to retrieve a small sheet of gold-leafed paper. Don had bought the stationery for her on her birthday a couple of years back. Although he knew that she loved the paper, it looked like she still hadn’t used any of it. They both had a habit of saving “special” items indefinitely, instead of enjoying them in their daily lives. Don considered looking for a plain sheet of paper, but came to the conclusion that this particular letter was definitely stationery worthy.
When Don was confronted with the blank sheet of paper, he found that he didn’t know what to say. Nothing he could think of seemed to carry the weight of the situation. He couldn’t just say something flippant like “Thanks. See you later.” Writing a suicide note was much harder than he’d thought it would be.
“Just write from your heart,” said Robert. “Don’t worry about the words; just write down your feelings.”
Don was still getting used to hearing Robert’s voice inside his head when he was awake, and it startled him once again. He was starting to grow comfortable with the claustrophobic feeling of two souls inhabiting one body, but the voice always took him by surprise. It came from deep within his body, and although he knew nobody else could hear it, it sounded like it echoed throughout the entire house.
Don began by revisiting some of his favorite memories of Suzanne since they had been together. When they first met. The first time they made love. Their vacation to the Oregon coast. A candlelit dinner on the floor of their furniture-free new house. And several images of Suzanne’s beautiful hazel eyes and the way they sparkled when she smiled.
When the revisitation of memories was over, Don looked down at the stationery and saw that the letter had essentially been written. The words floated above the page, hovering in space and waiting to be committed to paper. He picked up the pen and began to trace them slowly—one letter at a time. After he was finished, he carefully folded the sheet of paper in half and sealed it inside a matching envelope. On the front he wrote in his most legible script: “Dearest Suzanne.”
“Good,” said Robert. “Put the letter in a safe place. You’ll need it tonight.”
Don noticed that the sky had become dark as he hid the letter in the back of the desk drawer. After replacing the drawer, he heard the familiar sound of Suzanne’s key sliding into the front-door lock.
“Hi, hon,” she said when she entered the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty tired.” Writing the letter had taken more out of him than he thought it would.
“Sorry I’m late. We had to do month-end reconciliations before the partner meeting tomorrow. Are you up for eating tonight?”
The thought of food turned Don’s stomach. He hadn’t eaten very regularly during the past week, and with Robert inside him, he didn’t feel there was any room for anything else.
“No, that’s okay. You go ahead.”
“They bought us all Chinese, so I’m good. But I can make you something. How about some toast?”
“Really, I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat something”—she yawned— “even if it’s a cracker. I guess I should get to bed— I have to go in early tomorrow to make copies before the meeting.”
Don made his way across the room and hugged his wife as tightly as he could. The pressure of the embrace made the pain in his chest shoot through his body with an intensity that he hadn’t felt before. And although it was nearly unbearable, he held on to her as long as he could. He tried to say in silence what he could never put into words: that their love was eternal; that she was and would always be his entire world; but most important, that he was sorry … deeply sorry for what he was about to do.
When he could no longer tolerate the pain of their final embrace, he slowly pulled away and attempted to wipe the tears from his face before his wife saw them.
“Are you okay?” Suzanne asked tenderly.
“I’m just tired.”
Suzanne smiled sweetly and gently squeezed his hand. “Are you coming to bed?” she asked, and began to make her way down the hallway.
“I’ll be right there.”
Don sighed deeply and took a moment to look around the home they had made together. The kitchen table, the living-room couch, the coffee table. The life they had made together. He wondered if he was doing the right thing by leaving his wife in this way. Was it selfish? He had always heard that suicide was selfish and that everyone who survived would be hurt. But Suzanne was the only family he had left to speak of. He had a few acquaintances, but nobody he would consider a real friend. Suzanne was all that mattered, and he was doing it for her. She would be sad at first, but eventually she would be thankful when she realized why he had done it.
Don deliberately walked across the kitchen one last time and slid open the silverware drawer slowly, closing his eyes and hoping he had imagined the contents. But when he opened his eyes again, they were still there: stacks of medical bills that he was leaving for his wife to pay. But thankfully there would be no more. He was putting an end to the accrual of more debt, and one day she would be thankful.
He was doing it for her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wake up,” said Robert. “It’s time to get up!”
Startled, Don sat up and looked around for the voice before he realized what was happening.
“You fell asleep,” Robert continued. “The time is now—let’s go!”
Don looked at his sleeping wife, and his throat began to constrict until he felt like he was no longer able to breathe. As he gasped for air, the pain in his heart became more intense than all of his cancer put together. He couldn’t believe he was the one who was going to leave her. Suzanne was the only person who had ever really loved him,
and he couldn’t imagine living without her. If he wasn’t going to take his own life, being alone without her would surely have killed him.
“We don’t have any more time,” Robert whispered.
Don closed his eyes tightly and ran through all of the scenarios in his head one last time. When he once again reached the same conclusion he had every other time, another stabbing pain shot through his chest and he doubled over on the bed. After the throbbing wave finally passed, he opened his eyes and saw Suzanne sleeping peacefully. Tears streamed down his face, and he covered his mouth to muffle the cries so he wouldn’t wake her. “I’m sorry,” he cried softly. “I love you so much.”
The air in the house felt like quicksand as he slipped out of bed and slowly made his way across the room. Shutting the door behind him as quietly as he could, he stood in the hallway for a few seconds when he realized that he had just left their bedroom for the last time.
Don found his keys on the kitchen counter, and he made his way to the garage through the inside door off the living room. Although his car was parked on the street, he wanted to use the side door of the garage so he wouldn’t wake Suzanne. After turning on the garage light, he looked at the unpacked boxes from their previous apartment.
I should have cleaned up the garage before I left, he thought. I guess it’s too late now.
As he walked toward the outside door, he thought he heard a squeaking sound coming from under the workbench. The sound stopped as soon as he walked toward it, but when he turned around, he heard the squeaking again.
“Damn rats!” he said as he spun around and looked under the workbench for the rodent.
Out of the corner of his eye, Don noticed a cardboard box that was rocking back and forth. As he edged closer, he could see that the contents were strewn across the floor, and the newspaper packing material had been shredded. Cautiously, he grabbed a broom that was leaning up against the wall and held it on the bristle side while using the handle to lift open the flap of the fallen box. He saw a familiar black tail protruding from the opening.