Breathing

“Well... My apartment’s over there. Talk to you later?”

“Yep,” I replied, waving, and then looked to the side. 

My eyes locked onto another’s pair. Two holes, dark and soulless, and a face, strained to plaster a smile on, looked back. I averted my eyes down, watched the toy train choo choo around the snowy village on display, sipped my coffee, and then continued on my way. 

Two holes, a mouth to pump steam out, and a strained smile... I thought he was dead, but there he was, smiling at me. 

------

“Ah good morning Belph!”

I looked over and nodded. “Morning Mrs. Smith.”

“You’re up early today.”

“And so are you ma’am.” I read the anticipating look she displayed, and decided to continue the conversation. “Dressed well too. Going somewhere?”

She beamed proudly. “No where exciting -- you know how us old ladies are -- just going to get some morning tea and do some knitting with the girls; we bet on who’s going to die first.” She leaned in close to whisper “I bet it’s Suzy” and resumed speaking normally. “Suzanne McCarthy -- you know her right? She lives...”

Her words slowly turned into loud mummers in my ears, but I maintained a soft smile and occasionally nodded. There was a misty cloud of water vapor fleeting away from her mouth constantly being replaced, over and over, just like...

“Anyway I matched my outfit to my hydrangeas over there! Do you like them?”

“Oh... They look lovely. Thanks to your hard work.”

“Thank you!” She genuinely looked happy. “You should work on your front porch too.”

I awkwardly laugh. “Yea... I guess I’m a bit tired and lazy.”

“Which you shouldn’t be, young man! What were you even doing up before 7 a.m.?”

My eyes shifted toward the now cold coffee. “To get coffee?” I suggested. “With a friend,” I added.

“Coffee?! With eye bags that dark, you should be getting more sleep! You know when I was your age, I...”

Sleep? I scoffed silently. Nights have slothed by as I laid dead awake in dreary sheets. And then my mouth and throat would get dry and I’ll itch for water. A blessing in disguise perhaps as then all I think is water and water and...  

The night is quiet except for small crashes of waves creeping up the shore. I lay there, staring thoughtlessly at the infinitely large sky and speckles of stars. The waves poke at my toes, and slowly they lap closer and closer and closer. I open my eyes and look up through inches of water at the moon. A smile creeps on my face as I close my eyes again; if I can just stay here forever...

My body awakes as if it was just drowning. Eyes, tired from being clenched shut, shift to stare at the glass of water I’ve placed on my nightstand night after night. I should drink that, but I make no effort to move. So tired.

“Ah look at the time! I’m gonna be late for tea.”

“That wouldn’t be good. Have fun ma’am.”

“I will.” Then her excited expression softened and with a mouth that never seemed to dry out, she continued, “Take care of yourself, okay Belph?”

“You too. Happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays,” and she tottered away in her pink dress and thick coat. 

I take a sip of my cold coffee, rehydrating the dried mouth, before entering the cold empty house.

So bright. I squint into the fridge, empty except for a redbull and an old fruit cup, and I shut it. It’s just another day, with a full empty stomach, knowing I should eat something of substance, but not doing anything about it. I retreat to my bedroom where I can finally take off my coat.

He should have been dead. I take out a bottle from my pocket and put it in my desk drawer. Wiped from this planet. I take the letter placed perfectly in the middle of the desk and shove it in the same drawer. Forgotten but happy. I look around the speckless room; it has been years since it was this clean. He should have been dead. I looked at the mirror. Dead.

----- 

That night, he should’ve left the world. Work was gruesome.

“Don’t. Let me. Die,” the patient struggled to say. Each word barely whispered out and between gasps of air. “Please.” 

He kept himself busy by checking her vitals while ignoring eye contact, but he felt her blue eyes drill into him.  

“I. Have a son,” she forced out. “I’m his. Only--”

He listened patiently.

“Family. Dr. Egar?”

He forced himself to look at her, at a fragile hollow body exerting all her energy to make use of a ventilator. His jaw clenched. His eyes turned into glass.

“Tell me. The truth.”

For weeks, he had told her “It’ll get better. Just keep pushing.” But even words lose their power after time. He sat down. His glass eyes slowly crack.

“We are trying our best. And I want you to know, no matter what happens, we are committed to care for you. I,” he hesitated. “I have contacted your son however.”

Silence as those blue eyes slowly comprehended the unspoken message. 

“I’m. Not ready,” she whimpered. “Don’t let me. Die doc.”

But all he could hear were the machine beeps getting slower and unsteadier throughout the days. And so he whispered with a shaky breath “I’m sorry” and gathered his feelings and things and shambled out. That night he broke down in his spacious house illuminated only by moonlight. Nothing to hear except the echoing sobs of a crumbling man functioning on coffee. Slowly the beeps turned in one long one, and Dr. Egar became the only one breathing in the room. And yet, she’ll be replaced with another one begging to be saved. He collected himself and filed a leave for the holidays. 

He was tired, so very tired of the constant cycle, of useless hope, of death, of coming home to silence, of living. Suns came and left, shadows stretched and shrunk, and Dr. Egar was so very alone with his thoughts. He was so capable of breathing that he felt unworthy, and so came a day he cleaned his room, wrote a few messages, and went on a stroll to the bridge, as he did many times before at ungodly hours. Today, it was 2 a.m., and today, his plan was to overdose, numb whatever senses he had left, and fall peacefully.

Outside was chilly but serene. Leaves softly rustle as a breeze passes by, and Dr. Egar snuggles into his coat. For once, his thoughts were calm. There was no overthinking, no stressing, no self-deprecating, just emptiness. He went on his last walk. 

He could hear the soothing rippling of water before the bridge was in sight. Soon. The rusty metal, smooth wood, and cracking paint welcomed him. Soon. He looked out and could barely see the water glinting in the moonlight. Soon-- Suddenly, he heard heavy breathing. Dr. Egar frowned.

----- 

The phone buzzed. Slowly I turned on my side and felt around in the blankets for it. The sun filtered in through the curtains. How long have I been spacing out? My hands finally grasped the cold device, and my eyes slowly focused on a string of messages. 

• Hey this is the dude from this morning
• At the bridge?
• Cryus
• I just wanted to thank you for last night. Sorry that this message is long it’s just that truth be told like you said yea I was thinking of jumping but right when I was about to take the step all of a sudden you came and asked

“What are you doing?”

• Haha truth be told you scared me, I almost let go
• I didn’t know how to answer and maybe you realized that cause then you continued and 

“Are you going to jump?”

• And instinctively I wanted to laugh and say of course not but we would both know it’s a lie and

“Before you jump make sure you have no more friends, no more family, no more connections. Make sure you leave nothing behind so no one thinks it’s a hassle to clean up after you. Make sure you have an identifier on you so you’re no unsolved mystery case. Make sure you got no future.” There was a soft pause between the sudden burst. “Make sure you actually disappear.”

• Man... your reverse psychology worked
• It got me thinking about my mom and my dog. Got me thinking about a possible future and stuff
• You know what I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for making me realize that there’s so much more to live for. I really got caught up in my feelings there...
• I didn’t get to say it earlier today
• Thank you. You saved me.
• I hope we can stay in touch and uh never got your name

I sighed and let the phone slide onto my bed. The mirror showed my reflection as I locked eyes on it, two dark holes to see through and a face strained throughout the years of living. It was like staring at a dead man. My eyes avert to my desk drawer. That night I should have died.

But a connection was made.

Slowly, I bring myself to sit up. My hands grasp the phone.

• Nice to meet you. I’m Belph Egar

I hesitated.

• You saved me too

That night, I should have died. But here I am, breathing.