The Darkest Night - 1. The Darkest Night

THE DARKEST NIGHT

By Davey

I sat looking out the living room window, watching the rain slowly snake its way down the glass. Tonight was Halloween; I’d been invited to my friend’s party across the street. Christina, my friend, had excitedly told me that tonight was to be the night I would open myself up to people again, saying I’d shut myself off from the world for too long. I just silently agreed to save any argument.

 

Two years had passed since the night that changed my life. It had been Halloween then too. My partner, Jamie, and I had decided to head across town to a party being held in a warehouse club. We’d caught the city bus; dressed in our costumes; Jamie as Mr. Potato Head. He was in this ridiculously over sized foam suit and complained the entire time how he would end up a baked potato by the end of the night in that damn suit. Mine was much simpler. I’d dressed as a cowboy, suede leather waistcoat, plaid shirt, and chaps completed my outfit.

 

We sat close together on the bus, talking quietly to each other the entire ride. The whole time drawing amused looks from the other passengers. We rode too the nearest stop, three streets from the warehouse. This close to our destination, we noticed other fools who’d braved the cold weather dressed in a variety of silly costumes for a night of fun. Within the crowd of people there was this air of excitement that seemed contagious. People here knew this was going to be a good night; the atmosphere was simply exciting to be in.

 

Jamie had been a very open person. He’d never hidden his sexuality, not from the moment he’d realised it. He was proud to be my lover and showed it every opportunity he got. I’d had a harder time in my teens accepting my sexuality, but after university, and finding Jamie, I too had opened myself fully. I held the same pride in him as he did in I. The pride he felt was the thing that led him to wrap his arm lovingly around my waist as we walked, making me forget about the cold air that swirled around us.

 

I always felt fulfilled when he made contact like that. I loved the bond we shared and such simple contact would brighten my day instantly. I instinctively leaned into his touch as we walked, needing to further the warm contact he provided. We stopped at a crossing, and as we waited for the light to change to green allowing us to cross; he leaned across and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. It was such a simple gesture, one he’d presented me with so many times that it could almost seem practiced. The only thing was, it never felt practiced, each kiss he gave me always felt fresh, new, and exciting. He could kiss me forever more and I’d still loose all my thoughts, allowing only his presence to overtake my mind.

 

That was the last time he kissed me, the last time he touched me, at least in the physical sense. That was the moment he assigned his own fate.

 

I awoke three days later in a hospital bed, my last memory being Jamie’s kiss. I could still feel him on my lips, as though it had only been seconds before, and as if by instinct, I lightly licked my tongue over my lips, they felt dry and chapped, the taste I craved was missing.

 

I tried to move only to feel the immense pain my body was suffering; every bone in my body felt uncomfortable. The smallest of motion, even just trying to sit up, provided a sharp searing jolt. All I could remember was Jamie kissing me; curious as to why I felt so bad, I spent the coming hours trying to get information from the nurses about what had happened to me. Nobody would talk to me; if I asked a nurse why I was there, they’d look everywhere but right at me before answering. I tried asking where Jamie was, and again was brushed off with annoying comments like, the doctor will be here soon to tell you everything.

 

The doctor did eventually arrive, and in that short visit, he ended my life as I knew it. He was cold and calculated in his description of my injuries; only after he’d told me all my ailments, did he tell me Jamie was gone. I had thought Jamie and I would be together forever. I honestly saw us being old men, bitching through our retirements about the youth of the day. I never, even for a second, saw the chance that I’d be alone.

 

I was visited by doctors, nurses, and eventually by police officers. They told me of the attack that had happened. I’d been beaten so badly they honestly thought I wouldn’t make it. Jamie had been attacked second; he’d seen them beat me and, according to their witnesses, had tried to fend off the attackers. For his actions, the whole group had set in on him. He’d died on that street trying to protect me; he’d died for me. I could only wish at that time I’d gone with him. The knowledge that he died saving me was nearly as painful as it was comforting.

 

I never made it to his funeral; the doctors had to practically tie me down to ensure I stayed where I was. I argued my case; that I needed to say my final goodbye to him, but sadly, even I knew my body, let alone my mind, wasn’t in a fit state to make that journey. Just the thought of a final goodbye had me at point of a break down.

 

My recovery was slow, but I guess that was mostly my fault because I really didn’t have the heart to recover and go on living alone. My parents, along with Jamie’s, did their best to encourage me to carry on, but I just didn’t want to. Christina was the person that broke through my barriers. She reminded me that Jamie had wanted me to live; in trying to protect me, he’d shown I needed to carry on, however hard that was. I spent a long time thinking, then re-thinking what she’d told me. I tried to imagine, if our roles had been reversed, I knew instantly that I’d want Jamie to fight to regain his life, yet the reality that he’d want the same for me was so much harder to accept. I made a promise to him that I’d push my recovery and live on for his memory.

 

The two years leading to now I spent mostly reclusive. Keeping that promise had been the hardest thing I had faced. So often, I’d just wanted to bury myself and forget the world. I was mourning my lost love and really didn’t have the energy to face the prospect of life. Christina was the biggest constant in my life, she held me when I was at my worst, and through her efforts, slowly lifted my spirits to the point where I’d realised I needed to make the effort to live, to keep my promise.

 

That was the reason I now stood looking out my living room window, dressed in my very own blazingly hot Mrs. Potato Head costume. I’d thought up the costume, knowing it would have made Jamie laugh if he was, as I believed, looking over me.

 

I heard my phones message alert, and checking it, I already knew who the sender was. Christina simply sent, ‘get away from the damn window and come have some fun!’ So following her instruction, I walked though my door, and out across the street to her house.

 

As was our custom, I opened her door with out knocking, and walked right into the middle of her party. I was faced with a wall of surprised faces; people I hadn’t seen or talked to since that night. In that few seconds, I realised just how reclusive I had become. I decided I needed to embrace these people who had been so important to both Jamie and I before. I’d missed so much of their lives through my own pain. I just hoped it wasn’t too late to rebuild what we had.

 

The first person to approach me was a guy called Chris; a tall, strong, built guy. Without words, he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight. I smiled to myself, I really had missed his hugs!

 

“Pete, I missed ya.” Were the only words he whispered out.

 

“Right back at ya man,” I replied

 

A weird thing happened in that moment; I felt a warmth return to me that I’d been missing ever since Jamie had gone. I tried, in that moment, to process what that meant to me. I felt a sudden fear swell up inside me. It felt like I was cheating on Jamie. I quickly ended the embrace, trying to seem as natural as possible, before making my escape to the kitchen.

 

I raced through the crowded room, trying to get to an open space. I needed time to think about what was happening to me. I opened the back door and slipped out. Christina had a large open garden, and at the far end she had an old oak tree which had a tree swing hanging off it.

 

I sat on the swing, squeezing my large foam ass into the small seat, and gently rocked my self, allowing the gentle back and forth motion to alleviate my deep feelings of fear and guilt.

 

Guilt? That realisation hit me like a freight train. I was feeling guilty about enjoying the comfort of another man. It had been two years, twenty four months to the exact date, since I’d felt any comfort in a man’s touch. Deep down, a part of me knew I deserved to feel it, but the layers closer to the surface really didn’t agree.

 

I sat looking down at my feet, allowing my body to slowly rock on the swing. I could hear his footsteps as he crossed the lawn heading towards me. I didn’t look up as he got closer; I was suddenly feeling shame for my reaction to his touch. He stopped in front of me, And I could see the black leather shoes he wore, less than a foot away from my own, yet I still didn’t raise my head.

 

“Pete,” was all he said.

 

I quietly grumbled a response that ended up being an ‘mmhmm’ while keeping my eyes firmly focused on the ground between our feet.

 

“What’s wrong? You took off just as we were starting to talk,” he sounded hurt and I hated myself for making him feel like that.

 

I lifted my head slightly; I was now looking right at his crotch, probably not the best place to focus my eyes in my current frame of mind.

 

“I... I... I was talking to you, then we hugged, and I thought of Jamie. I think I came out too soon. I still really miss him,” I said with tears welling in my eyes.

 

He crouched down and I couldn’t help but think he’d ruin his expensive jeans kneeling in the dirt. His eyes were now focused on mine and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t look away.

 

“Listen sweetie, it’s okay to miss him. You love him; I know how right the two of you were for each other. I hope you never stop loving him because, I loved him too. To me, he was my friend, and I know that was never the same as your love for him, but I promise it’ll never go away.”

 

I looked into his eyes, I could see not just the concern he held for me, but also the love. I knew he was just concerned about his friend when he’d hugged me, and that made me feel good, but I still couldn’t shake the fact I’d felt more.

 

The house’s door opened and then slammed shut, attracting both of our attention in that direction.

 

“You two get your asses back in here; we’re supposed to be having a party!” Christina shouted from the door step.

 

Chris looked back at me asking, “You okay? I can deal with her if you want to head home?”

 

I smiled the best smile I could before shaking my head, “I’ll be okay, thanks though.”

 

He smiled back at me before leaning forward to kiss my cheek, as he leaned back he gently wiped the tears away from my eyes. He stood offering his hand to help me up.

 

I stood, using him as a support. before walking my way back towards the house. As we got closer, Christina must have noticed the puffiness around my eyes as her expression turned to worry.

 

She reached for my hand, pulling me aside, “You okay honey?”

 

I rolled my eyes at her in mock humour only to get a slap around the head in response. I actually laughed at that, feeling a little of our older relationship coming back.

 

My mood lifted we entered the house again; Christina in front, followed by myself, and then Chris. As we walked through the door, Christina reached back to clasp my hand lightly in hers. I gave her a gentle squeeze to let her know I appreciated all the support she’d given to me now, and in the past two years. She turned slightly as she walked and gave me a smile. Chris kept a comfortable distance between us as we walked through the kitchen; I couldn’t help but feel on display as I took in the concerned faces I passed. I looked in every direction I could to avoid making eye contact with any of them as we passed, the last thing I needed to see was their pity.

 

I knew deep down what people were thinking, but given that everyone there had been quiet and polite to me, I’d been able to ignore it. That is, until we walked into the living room and I heard their voices.

 

It’s amazing how sometimes you can seemingly lift from your body and view what’s happening around you from all angles. In that very moment, when we entered the room, with people’s backs to us, I felt like I could see their faces, the laughter on them. Sure I could hear the words they said, but the imagined image of their smiles as they talked of how pathetic I was for being so concealed after all this time; that hurt more. I kept hearing the discussion of my loss and subsequent withdrawal from society over and over at an alarming pace. I needed to get away from there.

 

I turned to look at Christina and saw the horrified look on her face as people I had once cared for called me pathetic. She looked mortified, terrified, and furious all at the same time. I smiled at her before turning and walking to the door.

 

I suppose it was the shock that delayed her reaction, but I knew she’d follow so I made my way quickly, running out into the street, determined to escape their hateful words. I darted as fast as my foam coated body would allow me to across the road to my own front door.

 

Just as I opened it I heard her shouting for me to stop; to wait for her. ‘Let’s talk’ she shouted, Talking to anyone at that moment was the very last thing I wanted to do. I stepped in, slamming the door behind before turning the lock.

 

With my back pressed against the door, I slowly lowered myself, allowing myself to gently slide down the polished wood.

 

She was banging on the door, the vibration travelling through my whole body. She was shouting for me to open it and talk to her; trying her hardest to stop me from closing myself off again.

 

With tears streaming from my eyes I came to the conclusion that I could never be happy. People couldn’t understand the loss I felt; a feeling I knew would never leave. I dragged my ass off the floor and stood, mentally blocking the noise coming from the other side of the door.

 

I walked through the house towards the bathroom, roughly ripping my costume off as I made my way forward. Reaching the sink, I ran the tap before splashing the water over my face to clear the tear streaks that stained my cheeks.

 

With both hands on each side of the sink, I lowered my head , sighing as I did. As my eyes dropped, the sheen from the metal caught my attention.

 

Could I carry on with this pain? Could I forgive myself if I did this? Could Jamie? I wondered if I’d find the answers to my questions as I lifted the razor………Could I break my promise?

 

 

END

 

 

© 2006 Davey