He began to read, each page bringing him closer and closer to the realisation of why the house was so still. Driven by some macabre desire to reach the end, or perhaps he simply didn’t want to believe what he was reading, he continued until he had read every last word. The truth sank in and he sprinted back inside, ripping his belt from his jeans as he ran up the stairs, two at a time, and shouldered the bathroom door with such force that he’d have been surprised and impressed at any other time but this. Josh was cold, no breath, no colour but the deep, deep red of the water he lay in. How long had he been there? Was it already too late? He couldn’t lift him, had to wait for the water to drain away, but there was no time. He strapped the belt around Josh’s left forearm and pulled as tight as he could, then did the same to the other arm, with Josh’s own belt, wrenched from the jeans lying lifeless on the floor.
The ambulance was quick, much quicker than he could ever have hoped for, and they said he’d done everything—everything—that he could. A blood transfusion; so many stitches; so much blood loss, but they had to make it to the hospital first. The iron filled his lungs and made him vomit. And then they drove away, blue flashes filling the sky, paddles searching out and somehow sustaining that precious wisp of life within.
The letters: he took them inside and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in to save him from ever having to deliver those letters.
Part II
Dear Kris,
It’s only right that I let you all know why I have done this, even though you and I have never really been very close. I wanted to tell you how much I admire you for what you have done for Shaunna and her baby. She is so lucky to have you. I’m sure you will be happy together forever, and I’m sorry I won’t be around to see you get married, and maybe give Krissi a little brother or sister, but I’m really sick.
Please try not to think badly of me. I worry that you will most of all, because you have such courage. You were an inspiration to me in school, being who you are and staying true to yourself in spite of the trouble it caused you. I know what a sacrifice you have made for Shaunna. If nothing else comes from this, make a promise to yourself that you will never let the life you are living drown you the way mine has drowned me.
What’s most important is that you have each other, and whatever the future holds, I know that this will always be true. Look after each other and have a wonderful life.
See you in the next one,
Josh.
Dear Shaunna,
I used to watch you and Adele sitting cross-legged at the back of the playground, taking turns with the skipping rope. I bet you didn’t know that. You used to play some stupid game, where you’d tie one end of the rope to a drainpipe and then the person on the other end would shake it until it made waves - something about seashells, cockle shells…Ironic really, considering you ended up with someone who is allergic to shellfish.
I remember wishing I had a best friend like that, and I got one eventually - two, in fact. Ellie and George are the most wonderful friends I could have asked for, and it’s going to be hard for them to understand why I have left them. I tell you this even though I know it is unfair of me to do so, but you are the strongest of us all. Nobody could be a better mum than you are, and I know you will be the one to look after Ellie and George now. I’ve also told Kris he’s got to look after you, and you must let him, because he has given up everything for you. He loves you so much, Shaunna, I hope you know that.
I’m truly sorry that I won’t get to see Krissi grow into a beautiful woman, but when she is old enough to understand, please tell her I loved her. Tell her that I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see her graduation, for her twenty-first birthday, her wedding. Unless I’m wrong and there is an afterlife after all.
You will always be beautiful. You will always be strong.
Josh.
Dear Andy,
We weren’t friends for very long, but I wanted to say thank you, for showing me - for showing us all - how to live life to the full. I only wish I had the energy to take up the challenge the way you do. You’re totally insane, in a good way, and you must never change.
I’ve been diagnosed with acute depression, not that I needed a doctor to tell me. It’s been so hard to keep going, to keep living, and even though we’re not very close, I wanted to explain why I have done what I’ve done. I’m sorry I can’t be more like you.
I know that when people leave the way I am leaving, it plays on the minds of those who loved them, so many questions that can never be answered. But next time you’re up there, flying through the clouds, I want you to remember that what I have done means that now I am as free as you and that is something to be glad for.
Keep on enjoying your life and make sure that little brother of yours does too. I’m sure one day he’ll tell you why he’s so angry, but you must be patient. Never give up on him, because he needs you and you need him.
Take care of each other,
Josh.
Dear Adele,
I haven’t seen you for such a long time, but Ellie tells me you’ve had your boobs done. She also said they’ve all been giving you stick because of it. Well, sod them, I say. It’s your body. You do what you like with it. I bet they look awesome, although you have always been very pretty anyway, whether you had big boobs or not.
This letter is to say goodbye, because I’m sick and have made the choice to go before the illness takes me. You have a wonderful group of friends, especially Shaunna, and I really think you should give Dan another chance, but that’s up to you.
I wrote the same thing to Shaunna, but I wanted to share my memory with you, of you both playing together at primary school, with that stupid skipping rope. She always had you holding the end while she did all the skipping, and I know she was a terrible cheat, so you can tell her that from me! You are a wonderful woman and one day I hope you feel confident enough to be who you really are, instead of hiding inside your pretty shell, because the real you is much more beautiful than you think.
Be happy Adele, and don’t let them boss you about.
Josh.
Dear Dan,
You called me queer once. I don’t suppose you remember that, but I do. I didn’t understand what it meant at the time, and although I do now, I still don’t get why you thought I was. In case you do remember, I want you to know that there’s no hard feelings. I also want to tell you to stop being so cruel to Andy. You’re so lucky to have a brother, and he needs you to keep him out of trouble. I think you need him too.
In case you haven’t realised, this letter is to say goodbye, because I am terminally ill. That’s not strictly true, but it’s the best way to think of it. They insist I’ll pull out of this, eventually, although I think they’re wrong, as usual. Whatever, I know that this will be with me for the rest of my life, which is why I have to end it now, before it takes its toll on all of you.
Whatever happens with you and Adele (I’m certain you will be together forever), be happy and be good to each other. Above all else, stop being angry. It will eat away at you and everyone around you.
You’re worth more than that. Don’t you ever forget it.
Josh.
Dear Jess,
Thank you. You have been such a support to me over the past few months and I am grateful to you for not telling Ellie what I was going through. I didn’t want any of you to have to see me like this, and even you haven’t seen how bad it can get, which is why I have made the decision to end it now.
There is nothing any of you could have said or done to make it better, because they tell me it’s more than just a bout of depression. The psychiatrist said I’m probably going to go through this every so often, but that it will get easier if I face up to why I feel like this. I can’t take the pain again.
Even though I’m not worth it, you’ll probably still all grieve for me. Ellie and George must find peace. My one last request is that you come together to find it.
Good luck Jess. You are going to be the best lawy
er ever and you are a truly wonderful friend. Thank you with all my heart.
Josh.
My dearest Ellie,
It’s tearing my soul apart writing this letter to you, after all we’ve been through together. I know that I am not important in your life anymore, that you’ve moved on. It’s been wishful thinking on my part to believe that you cared as much for me as I care for you. And I’ve missed you so much since we each went our separate ways to uni. I want to thank you for being my friend, even though sometimes I know it was hard for you to deal with anything but what was going on with you. I hope that it will help you to understand why I have done this.
But most of all I want you to know that it is not your fault. I’m so deeply unhappy and it’s not anyone’s fault. The worst part of all of this is knowing what my future holds. You see, I’ve been diagnosed with depression - they even mentioned the word ‘manic’. The jury’s still out on that one, although it explains a lot, about how I got through the last year on so little sleep. Well now it’s sucked me into its black heart and I can’t find a way out.
The psychiatrist I saw yesterday didn’t help at all, telling me I had a long way to go before I’d feel any better. I haven’t got the strength to make that journey. More than that, I can not burden you, or George, or any of the others with this terrible thing, and that is why I have to go. I hope you can forgive me. In time you will forget me too and get on with your life. I want you to be happy, Ellie.
Be happy.
Josh.
To my best and oldest friend, George,
You are the love of my life.
There are so many things I want to say to you, and I wish I’d had the strength, for telling you now will make it even harder for you to let go.
From the moment you walked into Mrs. Kinkade’s class you were my best friend, and I still miss our bike rides to this day. But I’m afraid it’s all too late. This depression seems to have two sides to it and it’s probably what got me through my degree - maybe I should be grateful for that. Now I get to see the other side and it feels like I’m being buried alive.
I’ve never hurt so much as this, George. It makes me want to tear out my hair to stop the pain that’s growing inside me, like a massive tumour. I’m broken and they tell me they can fix me, if I let them. I can’t do that.
I know you’re a tough guy and you’d probably beat this thing, but it has me beaten and I can’t take it. It’s no-one’s fault I feel like this and no-one can save me from it. So I have to leave you all.
What I need to tell you before I say goodbye is that I love you. You must go on - find some rich, handsome man who will look after you. You deserve the best and I am not it. I never deserved to be your best friend. For that I am sorry.
Goodbye George.
Josh.
Part III
The convulsions had stopped. The recovery position had slowly morphed, and now he was tightly furled, like a foetus, the breath leaving his body in shuddering jerks, his eyes staring, unseeing. She stayed, her hand gently resting on his hand, her mind tuned to his mind, watching, waiting.
“It’s your birthday. I’m sorry.”
Josh was on the floor, his back to the sofa, so he didn’t have to witness again what he had done. Sean was perched on the end of the coffee table, hands clasped together, tight and tighter still, to alleviate the shaking, numb the pain.
“I know. It’s all right.”
It was a day no different from those that had passed before it, filled with the visions, the replays of then. Josh watched them flash before Sean’s eyes.
“I wish I could take them away,” he said.
Sean swallowed hard and took Josh’s hand. It was cold, as always, the consequence of the nerve and tissue damage. Josh tightened his grip around Sean’s fingers. Cold, but still alive.
“These things make us who we are. If we could go back and change them, would we? Should we? We are Gestalt.”
George stirred.
“He knew,” Josh said. Sean didn’t seem surprised. “He always knew and he kept it locked safely away, my secret that made a liar of him.”
“That’s what people do when they love you.” Sean retracted his hand. “We carry those pieces around with us, waiting and hoping for the time to come when we can give them back, when we can complete the jigsaw.” His gaze drifted of its own accord, settling on the eight pristine sheets of A4 paper. “I’ve often wondered if it would help them to know how this feels. To share those letters, to surrender my shield and tell them: what you are thinking of doing? It will destroy the people you love, the people who love you. Their lives will not go on with or without you. They will never be the same again.”
Josh shook his head.
“It’s a place far beyond reason, beyond words. If you had shown me those letters, I’d have believed them to be a fiction created by do-gooders like us, with our theories and statistics and our pretence of understanding. And if you’d somehow convinced me they were real, they’d have still made no difference. All they offer is more guilt, and more pain.”
“So how, then?” Sean asked.
It was not a simple question to answer, for it was in itself a multitude of questions. How to stop someone from attempting to take their own life; to help them if they fail; to find a way to live.
“First, you have got to stop blaming yourself,” Josh replied, understanding at once. “You did everything right.”
“How can you possibly say that? I ignored it, hoped it would go away, even though I knew that those first six months…”
“Trickery and misdirection,” Josh stated, cutting him off. Sean put a hand to his forehead, the pain now registering physically, his other hand hanging, limp and trembling, between his knees. Josh took a hold of it and gently tugged. “In the general scheme of things, you don’t do so bad at it yourself.”
Sean raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said; empty words. “I had to work so hard not to blame you, that was the thing. I should’ve seen it coming, been able to prevent it. All that knowledge cluttering up my big, conceited head, thinking a piece of paper could save a friend. I missed the signs. I missed them all. Every single one of them. The talk of dropping out, giving away your books, your sudden obsession with my research. My research. I was arrogant—I should’ve seen it coming when you took the pills and the fact that I didn’t? I told myself it was your fault.”
“Yes, Sean!” Josh was barely able to keep the frustration out of his voice. “It was my fault. It wasn’t up to you to stop me. You couldn’t have stopped me. All those signs? Of course they’re there, but we talk about them as if they’re carefully measured and deliberately emitted, but they’re nothing of the sort. I didn’t think to myself ‘tomorrow I’m going to take an overdose’ or ‘as soon as Sean’s away I’m going to slash my wrists’. Those letters—I wrote them in my head for years, but they weren’t part of some cleverly thought-through plan. When I overdosed I wasn’t even thinking I wanted to die, because I didn’t care one way or the other. All I knew was that if I took those pills, whatever happened it couldn’t possibly be any worse than how I was feeling at that moment. So I took them and went to sleep. Then I woke up and carried on. It was no better, no worse. It was just the same as before, other than interfering fools too fond of their labels, who think they understand because they can ‘see the signs’.
“That day, when you went to the conference—it was exactly the same. The opportunity was there, so I typed the letters and ran the bath while they were printing. If you’d have come home then, I wouldn’t have done it then, but I would have done it at some point and not because I’d planned it. You don’t decide you want to die. You realise you don’t want to live and if the chance arises to do something about it, that’s when you decide. And once you make that decision—once I made the decision—there’s no going back. What keeps me here is my promise to you that I will never do it again.”
“Present tense?” Se
an asked the question almost before Josh had finished speaking.
“A slip.” The realisation cut deep into him, reopening the wounds in his mind. Sean watched quietly, giving Josh time to reconcile this newly uncovered ‘truth’, before he spoke again.
“It doesn’t always have to be a slip, but since you brought it up, do you still want to die?”
Josh didn’t respond straight away, in part because Sean was forcing him to admit that wanting to die and not wanting to live were one and the same. But more than that, he needed to be sure that the answer he gave was the truth, and searched his mind, digging into every deep, dark corner, no thought or memory left unturned.
“No,” he said, finally. “I want to live. Do I wish I’d died in that bath? Yes. You can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to wake up alive, and then keep waking up and remembering—I say ‘alive’, but I wasn’t really, not for a long, long time.
“And you did help me, simply by asking how you could. You listened when I talked—I should’ve told you everything and I chose not to, but knowing I could if I wanted to? That was enough. As for your survival kit idea—I’ll admit I was wrong. It wasn’t idiotic. Those photos, letters, silly little keepsakes—it’s so easy to ignore how much you are loved when you’re in that place. But I’ve ignored it long enough. I’m sick of dragging myself through every day, hanging on to a guilty promise.”
The Harder They Fall Page 42