Undone(95)
I obsessively check my phone for the duration of the journey. No messages from Lucas, or anyone else for that matter. Just before my stop I switch off the phone and tuck it down between the seat and the window.
I wander through the woods to kill time. I sit on a rock so cold it numbs my bum in a matter of minutes. The last envelope is in my hands but I’m scared to open it.
He died one year ago today. I have lived on this planet for 365 days without him.
366 days would be one too many.
chapter fifty-eight
I make my way onto the bridge at 10.13. I don’t know the exact time Kai jumped, but this has to be close enough. To deter any Melissa-like do-gooders I have Dad’s old camera slung round my neck. It’s bloody massive – looks like it’d be at home among the paparazzi or something. You can’t miss it; the idea being that anyone driving past will clock it and decide that I’m not about to dive head first off the railings.
I can’t put my finger on the moment I decided to do it here, do it this way, rather than with pills. I never thought I’d have the guts, but I feel surprisingly calm about it. It feels right. If Kai can do it, I can too. The local newspaper will love it.
I put my bag on the pavement and lean over the railing. The rocks aren’t visible, but I know they’re lurking beneath the surface ready to smash my skull.
It’s time to open Kai’s last letter. I want his words to be the only words in my head right now. I want to forget about the world and hear his voice for the last time.
The envelope looks the same as all the others. The word ‘October’ is printed in Kai’s handwriting. I bring it to my lips and kiss it.
Something stops me every time I go to open it. Because as soon as I open it I’ll have to read it and once I’ve read it there will be nothing else for me to do. I’m not chickening out – there’s no way I’m chickening out. I just need to make sure I’m ready.
Fuck it. This is getting silly now. I shake my head at my ridiculousness and tear into the envelope with my thumb. A single, precious sheet of paper inside.
A lorry speeds past me and a blast of air blows the paper out of my hands and up into the air. I lunge forward to grab it and I can feel my centre of gravity shift. My whole upper body lurches over the railing and I’m reaching for the sheet of paper, my arm stretched painfully, hand clawing at the air. Only one foot on the pavement now, but if I can just reach that little bit further I’ll be able to …
I start to fall and there’s a moment – and I’m not even sure this is possible – when I know I can reach the letter. I can reach it and keep it safe in my hand as I fall. If I can’t read his words, I can at least hold them in my hand as I die. I can just close my eyes and let myself fall into oblivion. Maybe I’ll hit the exact same rocks and my blood will mingle with his and maybe there’s some kind of life after death and he’s waiting for me there with his hand outstretched just like mine.
But …
I don’t want to die.
I try to twist my body backwards and pain shoots up my neck.
It’s too late.
I chose life too late.
chapter fifty-nine
23 Oct, 09:53
* * *
Hey. S doing OK. I spoke to her mum this morning. She’s talking – she wants to see you. You can come down with me tomorrow. If you want to. I’ve been thinking … We should talk. L.
* * *
My dearest Jem,
So here we are at the end of our journey together. It’s hard to imagine you a year older (wiser?), holding this letter in your hands and reading these words. It gives me hope. It comforts me to think of you living your life and learning to be happy and doing all the things I can’t because I’m too scared. You always were the brave one, you know.
I trust you’ll forgive me if I’m brief in this final missive? Better brief than maudlin, I think.
In no particular order, here are my top five hopes and dreams for you, my dear best friend Jemima Halliday:
1. I hope you finally get to beat someone other than me at table tennis.
2. I hope you go backpacking in India. Yes, I know full well you’ve never expressed the slightest interest in backpacking in the Lake District let alone India, but it’s something I can picture you doing - and loving. Call it a hunch.
3. I want you to dance and sing and laugh whenever you get the chance and never, ever be self-conscious about it.
4. (THIS IS THE REALLY, REALLY IMPORTANT ONE... JUST IN CASE YOU’RE SKIM READING BY NOW). I want you to be happy. When happiness comes knocking on your door (and knock on your door it most certainly will), you fling that door open and welcome it with open arms. I’m half tempted to ORDER you to be happy, but I’ve done quite enough of the telling-you-what-to-do shtick don’t you think?
5. a) If it helps with number 4, I want you to forget all about me. Or if that’s not possible, just wrap up the memory of me in a silk cloth and store it somewhere deep inside your heart for safe keeping. You can bring it out every once in a while, as and when you need to. I’ll always be there.
5. b) Yes, I’m aware this is cheating. But I hope that one day you and Louise will be friends, or at the very least two people who don’t hate each other. She’s not a bad person, you know. She made a mistake, but so did I. Maybe we’re even. Maybe it’s a strange quirk of human nature that we can’t help hurting the ones we love the most. But when you love someone that much, you can usually find it in your heart to forgive. It’s surprisingly easy to do. I could go on and on and on forever and it would never be enough. Words are never enough, when it comes down to it.