Writing prompts - 4. Forgiveness - Prompt 501

Forgiveness

Sunday, May 21

It’s evening now. Where did the day go? I’ve heard people saying how sometimes time flies by when you’re thinking about something, but it’s the first time it’s ever happened to me. I look around the small apartment I rent and everything is dark. My laptop is still open where I left it, the battery long dead. I don’t want to turn it on again, because the last thing on the screen were the test results and I can’t bear to look at those again. Instead I look out the window, wishing I had some kind of view to admire. Living in the big city, though, that’s a luxury I certainly can’t afford. My window looks out onto a plain brick wall a few feet away, lit from below by a flickering streetlight.

I should call Morty. I just don’t know if I have the guts.

Monday, May 22

My birthday is coming up. Next Monday. The big three-oh.

What a joke.

I was out of it during work today, and I think some people noticed. Too much going around in my head, and I felt weird, disconnected, as if this were an RPG on my console and I kept playing on this corrupted save file, even though I know I can’t ever finish the main quest. Can’t put the control down, though. Unless I…

It’s too much. Too much. Months of therapy and physiotherapy to keep my head above the water, so much hard work, and now it’s all fucked. One stupid mistake and this is what happens. I’m not sure I can pick up the pieces this time around.

I told Morty last night, after all. I confessed. He didn’t take it well. There were tears on both sides, recriminations from his side. I kept saying I’m sorry but I know it’s worth nothing. He broke up with me, of course, and even though things between us weren’t great, just knowing that he’s not there for me anymore is dizzying, like finding out your parachute is broken in the middle of a skydive. He was always my safety net, the one person grounding me to reality. Now that it’s over, I’m in freefall. And the ground is getting closer every second.

I spent lunch out on the roof of the company building, watching the tiny cars drive by below. I didn’t even eat my sandwich. I just stood there, thinking. Just like last night. I felt like I should cry or something, but nothing came. I’ve cried enough, before. After the accident. Dealing with depression all those months. In my therapist’s office, or talking with Morty late at night. I suppose I have run out of tears.

Tuesday, May 23

Odd thing happened today. I found a little plant on my desk at work. It had a little pink bow and everything. At first I thought it was from Morty, and I even texted him, my heart beating wildly. Maybe he had forgiven me? Maybe this was his way of saying it’s okay?

He didn’t know anything about it. And he said it would be best if I didn’t text him or call him for a while.

Rejection hurts. Rejection from your boyfriend of three years hurts even more. Ex-boyfriend, I should say.

Why did I do it? Why did I cheat on him? The stuff that seemed so important to me a while ago is meaningless now. I was fooling around on Grindr looking for someone to fuck to get back at him, I guess. My therapist once told me that maybe it was a way for me to get even over the accident. He had been driving, after all, and I’d been the one to get hurt. But both of us had been drunk.

I have no idea why I did what I did, and it doesn’t matter now. I spent most of the day in a daze, and climbed up to the roof again to get away from my coworkers. Then I came back and saw the stupid little plant again. I thought about throwing it away, but it was just too cute. It was one of those little cacti, palm-sized, with tiny needles and a single yellow flower growing near the top.

I gave it some water, not too much since I didn’t want to drown it, and went home.

Wednesday, May 24

Nightmares have been coming more often now. They were always there, but with therapy and the meds I had sort of kept them at bay. Not anymore, I guess.

The funny thing is, I was kind of disappointed when I woke up after the last one. It was scary, and messed up, but still better than my current life. How fucked up is that?

Afterwards, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I spent several miserable hours tossing around in my bed before it was time to go to work. I arrived early, and most of the office was still empty. I sat down on my desk and opened my email to see whether any clients had complaints about last shift’s work. It wasn’t until I had finished replying to some urgent messages that I saw the photograph.

Somebody had left a framed picture of the Grand Canyon on my desk. With another pink bow on top. Underneath it, I discovered a pamphlet with information on tours that took you there and back in a single day. It was cheap, too. And the photograph was impressive, a sort of long-time exposure at dusk or dawn. Very dramatic.

I was livid. I think I made a scene, asking around to find out just who the fuck had left the present there. Everyone denied it, even after lunch, when I asked again. We had surveillance tapes, but HR controlled those and I’d have to go to the office downtown to request to see them. If they even let me. It was too much damn work, so I decided not to do it. I sat through the remainder of my shift, steaming, looking at everyone with suspicion.

My money was on Leonard. He was an overweight guy in a wheelchair who worked for Foreign Accounts not two cubicles away from me. When he’d first been transferred, I was just recovering from the accident and he’d taken it upon himself to cheer me up every single day. Saying how he understood what it was like to have an accident-related disability. I hated people with a Mother Teresa complex and I told him so. I thought he would report me, but he never did.

I looked over at him. I could just see the top of his balding head and the silver headset he always wore when taking calls. What was his problem? Why the hell was he sending me things? Maybe he liked me, or something. All I knew was that, if I caught him delivering anymore stupid gifts, I would punch him in the face. Wheelchair or not.

Thursday, May 25

Morty came by to pick up his stuff from my apartment last night. I’d like to say I took it like a man, stoically, but it would be a lie. I cried. I begged him to forgive me.

He said no. And the emptiness he left behind was more horrible than any nightmare could ever be.

There was nothing waiting on my desk when I came to work the next morning, but after coming down from the roof when the lunch break was over, I saw another thing waiting for me. This time, it was a little subscription to one of those Sponsor a Child charities in a developing country. I supposed it wasn’t really a gift, but more like an invitation. Like someone saying, hey, you’ve been selfish long enough. Help someone else for a change.

I very nearly lost it from how angry it made me. I went around asking everyone, but nobody knew anything. Again. Leonard had left early, conveniently, so I couldn’t confront him even though I was almost positive he was the one doing all the creepy gifts. I was so enraged that I missed an important meeting with a client, and my boss chewed me out in the afternoon for my awful performance during the week. He hinted that my position in the company wasn’t as secure as I had thought.

I wanted to scream.

Friday, May 26

Another gift was waiting for me. Another one! This time, it was a book. It was called Learning to Forgive Yourself.

I threw it in the trash. Though about burning it. I kept to myself all day, stewing in my own rage. I kept wanting to confront Leonard about it, but he somehow managed to always be in some meeting or another throughout the entire fucking day. I had to work late, too, so I couldn’t wait for him outside. When I finally left, I was exhausted. I grabbed some take-out from a Thai place next to my apartment building, but I realized I wasn’t all that hungry. Eating felt like too much effort. Why bother?

Saturday, May 27

I wasn’t able to sleep at all night. Morning came at long, long last, but although at first I felt relieved, the only thing I experienced afterwards was dread. I had nothing to look forward to. No one to spend my day with.

I didn’t have enough energy to even go through the motions. I spent all day in bed, looking up at my dirty ceiling, feeling only half awake. I didn’t even feel hungry, and my box of take-out from the day before was thrown away untouched.

I thought about watching TV but I couldn’t muster the energy to actually decide on a show to watch. I thought about doing the laundry but kept postponing it until it was dark again, and by then I had lost all interest in doing any household chores.

I pretended to go to sleep when my phone told me it was midnight.

Sunday, May 28

I spent all morning browsing Facebook. Looking at pictures of Morty and me.

I didn’t cry. I still felt that strange emptiness inside me, and when I thought about everything I had lost, it was with a kind of grim acceptance that at first scared me, but as the day went on, it turned into welcome numbness.

As the day progressed, a resolution slowly took form in my mind. It had been in the back of my thoughts for a while now, but I had been afraid to look at it directly. Now, though, it felt… Inevitable.

All through that night, I alternated between terror and acceptance. I didn’t know if I would be brave enough to follow through. It would be the single most terrifying thing I had ever done.

But also the last.

Monday, May 29

I dressed carefully, with my best clothes. I polished my shoes. Why not? I left for work several hours earlier than normal, early enough that it was still dark outside. I looked at everything on my way to the office, wondering at every little detail. The leaves on a tree. The people running the subway with me. The feeling of cool morning air on my skin. The scent of brewing coffee. The sound of tweeting birds.

I used my badge to enter the office and headed straight for the roof. The janitor saw me, but paid no attention to me. Other than him, it appeared the entire building was empty.

That was good. I shut the door tightly behind me as I stepped onto the rooftop. Cool wind buffeted my clothes around me. To the left, I could see the sun rising over distant high-rise buildings. It was probably going to be a beautiful morning.

I stepped onto the ledge of the roof, with nothing between me and a hundred-foot fall but a single step. Just one step. I had to be brave for a single moment.

No tears came. I kept waiting for some kind of signal, some grand revelation which would convince me to do it – or not to. Nothing of the sort came, and I realized time was running out. Soon people would arrive. I would be spotted. Someone would call the cops.

I looked down again. One step.

Deep breath and –

“Happy birthday,” a voice said behind me.

I was so surprised that I very nearly lost my balance. A hand shot out to steady me, grabbing my right ankle firmly. Slowly, I turned around.

Leonard was there, looking up at me. He had the saddest expression in his eyes.

“Come down, Jerry,” he said to me. “Please.”

I hesitated, utterly confused. Then I did as he asked, out of curiosity more than anything else.

“How did you get up there?” I asked him once I was back on his level. “With your wheelchair and everything?”

There were no ramps, no way to get up here other than the narrow staircase I had used.

“Happy birthday,” Leonard said to me once more. “You turn thirty today, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, suspicious.

“You’re still so young,” he replied, and I could not stand the look in his eyes. It was brimming with compassion.

“Hey, we’re the same age,” I told him defensively. “And you’re creeping me out. Why are you here?”

“Why are you here?”

“That’s none of your damn business.”

He seemed unfazed by my harsh tone. “This isn’t the answer, Jerry. You have your entire life ahead of you. There is so much you can still do.”

He knew. Damn him, he knew.

“Leave me alone. You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’re hurting. I know you’re sorry. And I know you deserve a second chance to discover what life has to offer.”

“Yeah? Like what?” I spat, and to my horror, my voice broke on the last word. Tears came out of fucking nowhere. “An empty home? A lost boyfriend? An incurable disease?”

“Watching something grow,” Leonard countered. “Going somewhere new. Helping another person. Learning forgiveness.”

“You sent me those gifts,” I whispered.

“Don’t jump, Jerry. Please.”

It was awful. I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to flip him off and jump just to spite him.

I was also terrified. Of the emptiness I had felt, of the dark prospect of future. But most of all, of a tiny doubt that Leonard’s words had sparked in a corner of my mind.

What if he was right?

I don’t know how long I stood there, but eventually the sun came out in full and under the bright morning light I felt my frantic resolution dissipate. My shoulders sagged. Leonard didn’t say a word.

“I’m just so tired,” I said in a small voice, and suddenly I was crying again. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Morty knows,” Leonard replied after a long pause. “Give him the chance to forgive you. Give yourself a chance, too. Who is going to water that little cactus if you’re not here anymore?”

What he said was so unexpected that I chuckled, even through my tears. And in the aftermath of the sound, I realized I wasn’t going to jump. I glanced back at the sheer drop so close by, and I shivered. I had almost done it. If it hadn’t been for Leonard…

“Who are you?” I asked him quietly.

Leonard stood up from his wheelchair, smiling. He was taller than me. His eyes were beautiful to look at, I realized. Almost luminous.

“Someone old,” he said gently. “Someone who understands your pain.”

He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. It felt like being touched by forgiveness.

Swallowing back tears, I walked away from him, going back to the staircase which would take me back to my life. Before going down, though, I looked back once.

Leonard wasn’t there anymore. Somehow, though, I knew he was watching over me.

***

That night, I placed my little cactus on the windowsill of my apartment window. Maybe it was still looking out on a brick wall, but now there was something green and bright to liven up the view.

I created an account for the overseas charity and sponsored one of the kids for an entire year.

I called the travel agency and booked a ticket to go see the Grand Canyon. It was on my bucket list, after all.

And at 10 PM, when I knew Morty would be back from work, I called him.