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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

2010 - Summer - Out of this World Entry

Heavier than a Mountain - 1. Story

Heavier than a Mountain

By Menzoberranzen

 

Cars honked at me as I drove slowly through the streets, but I did not speed up. I knew where I was going, but I could barely stomach the thought of it. I saw the street I needed, and almost drove past it. But I knew that no matter how hard it was for me, it was harder for him, so I made myself make the turn. I pulled into the hospital and parked my car. With leaden limbs, I slowly stepped out of the car and turned the key in the lock. I walked across the parking lot and into the foyer of the hospital. It occurred to me as I stood in the lobby that someone was speaking to me.

“Sorry?” I said vaguely.

“Can I help you?” the speaker repeated.

“Uhh, yea,” I said, trying to collect my thoughts. “Room 108.”

“Right down the hall, sir,” she said with a gesture. I nodded and started walking.

The door was ajar, and I pushed it open slightly until I could see the figure lying on the bed. His head was turned to the window, staring at the world outside. I pushed the door open, and his head turned to look at me. He smiled when he saw it was me, but it did not touch the melancholy in his eyes. I could not return the smile.

“Hey Sasha,” I said softly.

“Hello, my love.”

“How come they moved you to this room?” I asked. I did not know what else to say.

“This is just until they can transfer me to a long-term care facility.” Every word seemed to hurt him as he spoke it.

I wanted to say something comforting, but I knew that no such words existed so I sat on the edge of his bed and gently stroked his face.

“But I’m not going to go. I can’t face years of this.”

“What other choice is there, Sasha?”

“My choice,” he whispered. “The last real choice I have left.”

“What do you mean, babe?”

“I have been happy, Ricky. I have loved, and been loved. I have no regrets and because I have loved life, I am not afraid to die.”

“Die?” I repeated. “You’re not going to die.”

“Death comes to us all, Ricky. And I want to face death on my terms, with my head held high. I don’t want to waste away in a hospital bed, unable to feed myself or wipe my own ass. We are each free to choose the manner in which we live in this world. I am fortunate enough to be able to choose the manner in which I will go out of this world.”

“Look, Sasha, I realize how fresh this still is and how bleak things must look at the moment, but they will get brighter in time.” I tried to be comforting, but my voice lacked conviction.

“That is a lie, Ricky, plain and simple.”

“So, what, then?”

“I am sorry to place this burden on you, but there is no one else.”

“Are you asking me to help you end your life?”

“My life ended three weeks ago, Ricky. I am asking you to help me do what I no longer can.”

“It’s not fair to ask this of me, Sasha,” I whispered, choking back tears.

“Fair? My life is over, but yours isn’t. You deserve a chance to be happy, Ricky; to mourn for me and then move on with your life. It would not be fair to deny you that.”

“I love you, Sasha.”

“And I you. But that will not make you happy.”

“I cannot believe you’re asking me to do this.”

“There is no one else, Ricky. If you don’t help me, no one will. Grant me this one final request. I am begging you!”

“I have to go,” I said finally, standing up. I kissed him on the forehead and tried not to meet his eyes. I could not bear to look at the sadness and desperation in them. He said nothing as I left, but all I could see were his entreating eyes.

*****

I sat at the back of the small lounge, idly sipping at a glass of wine. I heard the door open, and a familiar face walked through. He was older than I by nearly fifteen years, and a part of me recoiled at the sight of him. He walked slowly, purposefully towards me. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. He tossed his blazer over the back of the chair and took a seat across the table from me.

“Hello, Richard,” he said politely.

“Hello, Quentin,” I replied softly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming here without questioning.”

“I almost didn’t come, you know. The last time we spoke you intimated that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I didn’t ask you here because I wanted to see you.”

“I gathered that much, Ricky. Why did you ask me here then?”

“I am here on behalf of one whom I love, Quentin. I asked you here because...because I need your help. Or at least your advice. I couldn’t think of anyone else to call.”

He watched me from across the table, unblinking and unmoving. Even after all these years, he still unnerved me.

“I am not the man I was, Ricky. I know it’s too late, but I want you to know I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I know we’re not here to discuss us, but I had to say it.”

“It’s in the past, Quentin. I have put it behind me. I bear you no ill will.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied. “Well then, my dear boy, what can I do for you?”

“Do you remember Sasha?”

“I believe we met once or twice. He was a dancer wasn’t he?”

I nodded, and fell into silence. Quentin watched me intently, waiting. He motioned to the waiter.

“A glass of red,” he ordered. The waiter nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

“He had an accident a few weeks ago. Snapped his spinal cord. He’s paralyzed from the neck down.”

“That’s awful, Ricky. I’m very sorry to hear it.”

“He’s asked me to help him end it now. I’m at a crossroads, Quentin. I want to do as he asks, but I can’t! I can’t!” I took a deep swig of my wine and tried to keep the tears at bay.

“Why not?” he asked simply.

“Why do you think?” I snapped.

“I think you’re selfish, that’s why,” he said simply.

“Fine, perhaps I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” I said irritably.

“You asked for my advice Ricky,” he said kindly. “I’m giving it to you. I say it not to be harsh, but to make you see. ”

“I’m not being selfish! I don’t want to see someone I love die.”

“And why not? Because it would be hard on you. Because you will be the one to deal with the aftermath.”

“That’s not true! I love him, I want to see him happy!”

Quentin laughed, but not mockingly. “Look at me and tell me I’m wrong, Ricky. He wants to die; he would not have asked you to do this thing otherwise.”

“I can’t do it,” I whispered. “I can’t do it.”

“Then that is your failing!” he said, his voice rising. I looked up at him, and saw anger in his eyes. “To let him live requires no courage or depth of character; only your inaction. It requires true strength, however, to put yourself second and do what must be done. You say you love him, Richard. Well if that’s true, you will put his need above your own.”

“Well maybe I’m not that strong, then.”

“Maybe you’re not,” Quentin agreed. “I have given you what you asked for. The rest is up to you.”

*****

“Why have you come back, Ricky?” Sasha asked as I approached his bed.

“I am here to do what must be done, Sasha. I would implore one last time to reconsider this choice, but I know that you will not. And I know that were our places reversed, I would make the same choice. I love you with all of my heart, Sasha.”

“You are a good man, Ricky.” For the first time in weeks, I saw a look of genuine contentment in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this, Sasha?”

“I am sure.”

“Goodbye, my love,” I whispered, embracing him in a hug. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I pulled the needle out of my pocket and removed the cap. I reached for his arm and turned it over so I could see the veins, but I could not seem to make myself insert the needle. I looked at Sasha’s face; he looked at peace.

“Death is lighter than a feather,” he said softly. “Duty – heavier than a mountain.”

*****

© 2010 Menzoberranzen

Authors note: The photograph is entitled ‘deathbed’ and was taken by lars92. You can find his photography here.

Story Discussion

Copyright © 2010 Menzoberranzen; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

2010 - Summer - Out of this World Entry
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Your story is thought provoking; as the subject matter should be.

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I agree with Quentin, except Sasha is selfish too, since Ricky may well end up in prison for doing what his boyfriend asks.

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This is a wonderful piece of work. Sasha knew he could not live as he was, it would be long empty years until death, not a life in his eyes.  He has the right to make that distinction, and that choice to die. Hopefully the choice to die continues to become a more accepted option.  Wonderful writing. 

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