Chapter 40. Knock, knock
At 6:40am, Lionel woke with a start. As his mind moved into the shallower stages of sleep, he’d somehow sensed Jennifer sitting over him; watching him. He sat up and offered her a weak smile. A brave effort to comfort the woman who would watch his execution in a few day’s time. Unfortunately, what Lionel had intended to be an outward sign of strength to sooth his wife’s grieving for him, caused her to weep instantaneously. Jennifer let out a restrained whimper at first, triggered by the heartache of seeing her husband’s painfully forced smile in the face of this grave injustice. In a few hours those handsome blue eyes would close forever and although she adored his bravery, she knew that truthfully, the brain inside that head of his would process its last thought as one of resentment. Her angel, her brave, brave angel making a bitter departure from the physical world, exiting with the reverberating last thought lingering in his head that now shouldn’t really have been his time to go. The thought of her husband’s final, tormenting mental struggle made Jennifer physically gag with sorrow. The whimpering quickly grew into undignified wailing, her own tears wracking her with untenable guilt, as she realised that she had no right to cry while her condemned husband was holding together such a plucky front for her. She should be the one keeping his spirits up. As she sobbed, never taking her eyes off her husband for fear that any glance away from him was a precious second of his image wasted, she saw in this moment that her husband was and always had been a real man. All of his violence towards her, his infatuation with alcohol that had always bothered her so much, his quiet, strong, silent persona all amounted to the same thing: He was a man. And a real man! And here he was, facing his final ordeal with a smile for her.
Lionel had refused the offer of a final meal. He was a food lover, and could have probably listed a thousand things he’d love to devour under any other circumstances, but he didn’t see the point in nourishing a body that would soon be a lifeless shell, stripped of its soul and energy. It was almost an insulting offer.
The deed would be done at 9:00am, but they’d been told to arrive at Eduardo’s estate for 8:30am to go through the necessary formalities. He’d be put in a holding room where Eduardo would read him his last rites, his will and testimony would be finalised before he was left alone to say goodbye to his wife. As his acting witness, Jennifer would then have to sign the Anti-Expansion Execution Document, which amounted to her acceptance of the fact that she knew the reason he was being put to his death. This was the part that worried Lionel the most. In Ducie, everyone signed the standard Anti-Expansion Agreement annually, as an indication of their continued acceptance of the sort of terms and conditions of living on the island. It wasn’t as if they had any other option in reality, but by doing so, everyone was officially locked in to the agreement. The document that Jennifer would sign in the holding room was effectively asking her to put the final nail in her husband’s coffin. She could refuse in theory, but what would happen from there was unclear. Lionel wanted nothing less than for his final moments to be plagued with controversy and drama, although essentially, that was exactly what was happening whether she signed the document or not.
8:30am seemed about right to Lionel. He needed time to prepare, but any longer would be unnecessarily prolonging the agony of his final chapter. He wanted time to say goodbye, but he didn’t want enough to time to really absorb what was happening to him. In that way, he was kind of glad of the distraction of his wife’s dramatic mourning that had so far kept his mind busy enough to prevent him from thinking himself into a state.
He’d said his goodbyes to the rest of his friends the night before, having humbly requested to be left alone with his wife on the morning of his execution. The couple had planned on staying awake all night to maximise the time they had left together, but as the night wore on and tiredness brought with it a hint of delirium, the conversation became disjointed and awkward, often bordering on nonsensical jibberish, as exhaustion and emotion collided to produce a messy collage of random words and unfinished sentences. The worse it got, the more Jennifer became annoyed with herself that she was not doing her husband justice by spending her last hours with him in such a wasteful slumber. To Lionel it was perfect though. He wanted to be with his wife, to feel her, to experience her, to revel in the moment of co-existence with her. He wondered whether by looking at her hard enough, long enough, by feeling the natural heat radiate from her skin and by breathing in every subtle scent of her strongly enough, he could perhaps create an experience of her so strong and so real, that he might actually be able to carry it over with him to the afterlife.
The bang on the door cut dead Jennifer’s crying. Lionel frowned slightly at her, silently questioning who on earth would be at the door interrupting them at such a time. Neither of them moved, as if only a further knock would confirm that they had really heard what they thought they had.
- Lionel?
The voice has hushed, but laced with urgency.
Lionel sprung from his bed and walked sideways towards the door, his ear leading the way; never taking his eyes off his wife, who was mirroring his look of confusion. He couldn’t place that voice just yet.
- Lionel? Are you in there pal?
The voice wasn’t childlike, but it had that quiver of uncertainty belonging to a young man, who hadn’t yet had enough adult conversations in his life to have settled on a permanent tone for his voice.
Lucas Medina! Lionel opened the door.
- What are you doing here Lucas? There’s nothing here for you. We said our goodbyes last night,
Truth be known, a part of Lionel was glad of the distraction.
- I know you don’t have much time Lionel.
Lucas nodded at Jennifer, a belated acknowledgement of her presence.
- It’s messed up Lionel, the whole thing is….
- Spot on it’s messed up, but it is what it is now my friend. I’m at peace with….
- No, no, Lionel. I mean, it’s really messed up. There’s stuff you need to know before you let Eduardo put you out to sea.
Lionel had no time for yet more pointless resistance. He had enough of that coming from his wife. Go quietly, he’d told himself. If there was some place beyond this murky riddle of a world for him to go to, then leaving it with dignity would surely score him some points in the afterlife. If all that awaited him was eternal sleep at the bottom of the ocean, then he’d rather enter that infinite abyss peacefully. Fighting it only gave rise to resentment, and as far as he could see, that was only serving to blemish his final hours with a disgusting sourness.
- Let it go Lucas.
Jennifer shot from her chair, getting closer to Lucas than she’d intended, invading his personal space beyond the normal realms of what felt comfortable.
- Let it go yourself Lionel. What stuff do we need to know Lucas? Talk to me. I’m not at peace with any of it this crap.
Lionel gave his wife the look. The same look he gave her just before he’d eventually used his fists to hammer his authority into her in the past. “Shut up, or else” his face screamed. Jennifer wasn’t scared. He wouldn’t raise a hand to her. Not now. Not here. And if he did, he would be dead soon anyway, so what did it matter?
- I’ve seen things. Things that explain things. Things that could stop all of this. We’re not meant to be here!
- Who’s not meant to be where Lucas?
Visible moisture was forming on Lucas’s brow. His voice temporarily took on a dry croak, as he buckled under the pressure of condensing chapters of craziness into bite size nuggets of useful, coherent information.
- Us! Here, Ducie. Eduardo. There’s more to it than they say.
- Who’s they, Lucas?
- That’s just it. Eduardo. His Estate. There’s people there.
- What, right now?
Andrea took a seat on his bed and clutched at the skin around his own temples, letting the words of his wife and his friend wash over him. The drama, the upheaval, the pointless debate ragi
ng on around him. Marring the sacred time he had left with poisonous controversy.
Lucas went on.
- All the time Jennifer. There are people there all the time. Eduardo has people over there Jennifer. I’m telling you! People none of us get to see.
- Like a team or something?
Jennifer was already sold, regardless of where Lucas was going with all this. Anything to distract from the hurt.
When the door slammed, a surreal moment of silence swept through the room and at that moment, the humidity of the place became apparent for a second. The thick, muggy air that you could almost take a bite out of. Tangible tension or just the climate of a sub-tropical island? A sinister humidity that wasn’t noticeable before.
By the time Jennifer made it outside the little wooden house, screaming his name across the island, Lionel was out of sight.
Ducie Page 41