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Solitude by Dave Martin
Friday, October 28, 2005
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
A young man's personal crisis and the consequences of life.
Sam sat down on his favorite bench, sat hard, as though a burden had suddenly made him heavier than gravity could permit him to bear. It was the place he always went when he needed to be alone. It was a safe place, a lonesome place. A grove in the park which most overlooked, believing it to be nothing more than a stand of oak trees, never imagining that sanctuary existed beneath those huge, overhanging branches. The leaves shrouded what lay within.
But Sam knew it, perhaps too well. Somehow, he was comforted more by those trees than by the arms of another human. Not that he received the latter. Those oaks would never abandon him, nor would they willingly cause him harm. He felt a security there. A place where the noises of the world were muffled, and--he hoped--the sound of his tears.
It was a cold night, but Sam didn't care.
He sobbed quite loudly tonight. That uncontrollable, unstoppable, unable and unwilling to be silenced sort of crying. He thought to himself, over and over, "Why me?" until his mind could no longer contain the thought. He began to vocalize the words, "Why me!?" Each repetition became louder than the last. Then, suddenly, the words burst out in a scream, shouting through the limbs above to the very skies beyond. "WHY ME!!!!" The sobbing intensified, taking on octaves which only dogs could hear.
Sam was startled by the sound of a dead leaf crunching behind him. He had sat with his back to the only way into the grove, and was in no mood to talk, much less let anybody see his tears. He just wanted whomever--or whatever--it was to go away.
Just as he was about to shout a forceful, "Go AWAY!" to this invader of his private demesne, a voice said, with great concern, "Sam? Are you okay?"
Surprised that this unexpected, and wholly undesired visitor knew his name, Sam turned his head to see just who this was. There in the entrance stood a man a bit older than himself. The face seemed familiar, but Sam's eyes were too blurred to be sure.
"Who the hell are you?" he said with a snarl, figuring it would give him a chance to clear his vision.
"Roger," he replied softly. We were in the same Writing course last semester. Remember?"
Of course Sam remembered him. "Rog." The most popular person on campus. He had gotten a late start with college, but was friends with everybody. Everybody, that is, but him. Sam didn't have many friends, certainly none whom he could confide in, and he saw no reason to start finding new friends now. Not anymore. What was the point?
"Oh, yeah. Now go away." There was a sternness in his voice.
"Sam, something's obviously wrong. You sure you don't want to talk about it?"
Roger sounded sincere, but Sam just wanted to be alone. "I said, go away. Leave me alone," Sam sobbed. "Please."
Roger replied, with a certainty, "No. I'm not leaving."
"WHAT? Why won't you just let me be?" Sam said.
"I've seen that look, the one that's on your face. I walked away from it--from him--because I was asked to...no, told...by the one person I could never say no to." Roger was sobbing, too, now. "It was the biggest mistake I ever made in my life, and I won't make it again. So, I'm going to stay until you tell me what's wrong."
"Then I'll leave. I'll find somewhere else to hide from the world. Especially from you."
"You know I'll just follow. C'mon, talk to me, Sam. I know we aren't friends, just acquaintances if that much, but maybe that's best. It'll be easier for you to open up to somebody you barely know, than to family or close friends. Trust me, I know."
Sam was getting hostile. "You know nothing of what I'm going through! How dare you! My life is over, and you think you know. You, of all people! You have friends, you have family. I have nothing and nobody. So will you please, just get the hell out of here!"
"NO. That mistake I made? It was by letting the only person I ever loved tell me to leave him alone. You know what he did? Do you!?" Roger's voice was strained.
"Do I care? No." Sam said, but with a tinge of something which implied otherwise.
Roger was furious. "He KILLED himself. Do you know why? Ah, of course not. That's right; you don't care. You just care about yourself. You're the only person in the world that hurts. The only person in pain.
"Well, you aren't. A lot of people suffer in silence, over things you can't even imagine." Roger sighed, then began to cry himself.
"I know this bench. It's very familiar to me. It's where he sat. Where he sat as I walked away because he asked me to." He paused, tears pouring from his eyes. Roger sniffed and continued, his voice breaking at every word. "It's also where he shot himself in the head," Shocked passed over Sam's face as Roger continued, "and it's where I sat every night for a month wondering if I should follow his lead, because I couldn't imagine living without him."
Sam sat, stunned and silent. It's why he was there. Contemplating just that. Ending a life which was already going to end too soon. He put his hand in his jacket pocket to keep away the chill.
"I'm sorry. But why...?"
"Why did he kill himself? Is that what you're asking?" Roger sniffled.
Sam's curiosity got the better of him. "Yeah. Please."
Roger paused, then cleared his throat. "He, uhm, [sniff], he tested positive. For HIV..."
Sam's face fell. He could only respond with, "Oh."
Roger continued, as though Sam hadn't spoken. "It wasn't that alone, though. He realized he had passed it on to me. I'm HIV positive, too. What do you have to beat that? Huh?"
Sam stammered, "I just tested positive." Tears streamed down his face. "I've heard and seen so much. Friends who got it, how quickly they got sick, and died, all before they'd even lived. And all the hatred they had to face. I don't want to go through all that."
He tried to stifle his tears, failing. "I don't want to die, but I'm afraid to live with this. So I came here to think. To make a decision. If I will only have another five years to live, I'd rather end it now."
Roger didn't look surprised at Sam's statement. Instead, he said, "Five years? Who told you that?"
"The folks at the testing center. They said 'maybe eight at most.' What would it matter, in the long run. I'm twenty one. I'll never make it to 30."
Roger, much calmer now, said, "Yes, you will, Sam. It's quite possible."
Sam protested. "But they..."
"...were wrong, Sam." Roger concluded firmly. "What I told you didn't happen last week, or even last year. It was fifteen years ago. And Sam, I'm still here. Because I realized something."
With a note of astonishment, Sam asked, "What?"
Gently, Roger said, "That while I had given up on life, as had Jim, life hadn't given up on us. It hasn't given up on you, either. I told you I'd seen that look you had on your face before. It was on Jim's face, and on mine when I looked in the mirror, after, well...
"But now, the face I see is of a man who is embracing whatever life he has, for as long as he has it. Even if I have to spend it without the love of my life, I know he'll always be with me. And I know he didn't intend for me to do what he did."
Roger chuckled. "That, and I guess I'm too stubborn to give up.
"Don't give up, Sam. Be strong."
Sam angered a bit. "So, if I kill myself, that makes me what? Weak? A coward?"
Roger sighed. "No, it doesn't. It takes a different kind of courage to move on, to find the next adventure, if there is one. But you may be missing out on the best things by leaving the game early. It's also brave to see how...how it all plays out. To let life show you that it's worth the pain."
Sam sniffed. "But it's not. Life shouldn't make you hurt. What's the point of being born if it's just going to be a life filled with pain? No, it's not worth it."
Roger started to object. "But it i--"
"SHUT UP! I listened to you, despite telling you to leave me alone. So now you need to listen to me. I've been thinking quite a bit. There's a question I've been asking myself, one which I'm sure you know. Hamlet's question."
A startled look moved across Roger's face.
"Thank you for trying, I know you think you mean well. I'm not strong, and I'm not brave. I'm not anything.
"I know my answer to the question." He looked right into Roger's eyes, and said, "I'm sorry. Goodbye, Roger, but I choose not to be."
Before Roger could speak, or move, Sam pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a pistol, which moved to Sam's head. As Roger shouted, "NO!" he knew it was too late. The bullet exploded from the barrel of the gun, and through Sam's skull.
Roger's face was contorted with the horror of what he'd witnessed. He turned his head up to the sky, his mouth open but only silence came at first. Then, a scream which shook the leaves and split the heavens above.
They say that grove is haunted these days, and those who dare to enter it on a dark, winter night, claim they hear the trees, whispering in the wind, repeating Roger's last words, over and over again.
Absolutely mesmerizing. You have a tremendous talent. I was totally hooked in your story, and it is well written. It is easy for the reader to totally be engaged in Sam's plight.
I can see why you like Poe. It shows. I say again, you have a great talent, and it is bound to show forth and develop as you continue. I'm glad you're here.
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