Sound of his breath

Our favourite stories are the ones which end tragically. The myth of Niobe. Prometheus and the Theft of Fire. Pandora's Box. Daedalus and Icarus. Orpheus and Eurydice. The characters that want more end with nothing. Or worse.

He said, "can you imagine? Us in ten years, standing at the edge of this cliff, with our first-born son?" and smiled as if everything was going to happen just as he told. It was a hundredth or two-hundredth time he imagined this for the two of us since we first met. I loved his grin and his hair that bounced whenever the wind blew. But not only the looks in favourable conditions, he was so... ahead of everyone I know and full of life. To me, he was an embodiment of what I find desirable in a man. And he was the one. He was all I had.

Then everything collapsed. In a literal meaning. I had been always telling him not to fool around there, but he did what he did. He fell from the cliff, head down into the rough sea from twenty yards. The image of his body had been my nightmare for the next couple of years, maybe even up to ten years from that accident. Ten years that we were meant to spend together. Ten years of watching our never-born grow. 

To be on the clear side, he went to a watery grave, and I'm not sure whether this is normal in such cases or not but his body was almost completely intact so it wasn't the fact I was disgusted or disturbed that this vision of him haunted me. I suppose it all controlled me on a psychological level. It had been all about the inner workings of my psyche. 

But this cliff... It was a special place for us. There are still times when I go back to see if I can cope with all this without shedding tears. Usually, I can't. Besides, it is a test for my love of him. The day I am unable to sense his presence will be the day I stop talking myself into believing there is something beyond the moment of departure. 

It seemed disloyal, but anyhow, we arrived at the spot. Four thirty in the morning. Gus was not happy with the idea from the start. Waking him up, packing, and driving to my first boyfriend's hometown. Well, I didn't tell him exactly why we were going where we were going...

"There we are," I thought while browsing through the family photograph album. "We are sitting by the sea. My only child and I. It was my husband who made this photo. He didn't realise too. He thought I just wanted to see the sea, and that we went there simply on my whim. Little did he know it was more or less the eleventh anniversary of his predecessor's and my relationship, exactly ten years after Tom said what he used to repeat time and time again."

"Can you imagine?"

Of course, I could. I believed such times will come. Never told him though. I just let the words ring. Where and when I stood with him I thought that moment was eternal. Then I let the words ring in my memory. I still do.

We brought some food with us as we knew we would be hungry by the time we arrived. I can recall very well what we had eaten. Broccoli bread that I prepared the day before, minced beef and some common vegetables like carrots or beetroots. As expected, eating this last ingredient of our picnic proved to be quite problematic. I don't know what inspired me to buy those beetroots. Anyway, we had fun, and not only with eating so that we don't smudge our clothes but also with playing games. Gus loves games. I imagine this was the primary reason why even though my son's first reaction was that this trip was an utter waste of energy, he came to like it eventually. 

Well, at least I wish it was the case.

We all preferred games that involved guessing as they seem most interesting to play. We decided we should seize an opportunity to get to know one another better and so we chose Two Truths and a Lie. The game's aim is to come up with the most unusual facts about oneself, especially if played between close relatives or friends, and see whether one is able to fool others as far as the lie goes. In other words, one should pick some two obscure truths about oneself and invent one convincing lie. Gus, with a bit of grumpiness, went first.

"I like long unannounced trips to strange places that make me get up at two at night. I like the idea of eating uncooked beetroots with my bare hands. But most of all, I absolutely love being forced to spend time with my parents far from home so that I won't be able to escape."

I looked at my husband. He was tired, and Gus' response didn't help him to relax more. He worked like a dog for the last couple of days so it was quite understandable that he wasn't too happy when he heard Gus' complaining. Initially, I thought, "will he explode with rage or not?" Apparently, he didn't get the literal meaning behind what Gus said and asked him to repeat. I intervened. 

"Honey, could you not be so sarcastic by any chance?" 

I admit it was too weak of an attempt at making him more compliant but I never said that being an authoritative figure in my child's life was one of my strengths.

"Could you not force me into doing things?", Gus said without a second of hesitation. 

"Well, I thought you liked playing games..."

"Then I don't know if you think at all. Why are we here even?", my nine-year-old showed us the neighbourhood with a sweeping motion of his hands. 

"Honey, we are here because mommy wanted to come here, okay?", I said with a tad too patronising tone.

"But that doesn't answer my question. Just answer the question!", Gus shouted while continuing to gesture vigorously.

"Honey, you need to calm down. Just breathe."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"I am not telling you what to do. Listen to me. Ten breath-ins and ten breath-outs, only then can we talk, okay?", I clearly was contradicting myself, but I didn't know what to do with this tantrum of his. 

Was it always like this with Gus? I think not. But then I realised we came to the place of Significance, with a capital S. Because, didn't I always want a child that would be Tom's and mine? Wasn't Tom the key to all of this? This lacking element, missing link between me and my family whom I didn't truly love? I don't know, maybe I am overanalysing my life, but somehow Gus and his father were only substitutes for what could have been achieved with Tom. Maybe Gus behaved like this not only because of the fact he was exhausted by the trip itself but because the trip to such place of Significance was in a way something revealing, that he wasn't my dream come true. And though he didn't show any love towards me explicitly, I knew that deep down he really searched for my approval and my attention and all a good mother could provide to her only child.

Once our argument had come to a close, I managed to seat Gus at the back in the car. Then, I went to the edge of the cliff, alone. Gus' father stayed in as well. It wasn't his best day ever when it comes to the ability to communicate his needs, and, to be honest, he should've told me he wasn't going, because he was notably in need of more sleep ever since we got up. 

I waited for some sign, but it was only me, it was the grass beneath my feet and it was clouds and pretty high waves. Nothing quite as enthralling as I remember from numerous times Tom brought me over to that site (maybe because one important factor was gone, meaning, he was not there). Then a little breeze came, signalling that perhaps this "nothing" that I felt can change into "something." I hoped for something, I don't know exactly what, very sincerely. And just when I was about to go back to the van I heard HIS BREATH. The sensation at the back of my neck excited me suddenly. There was no mistaking his breath. It was him. I didn't want to turn around as Orpheus who couldn't stop himself from taking this one fatal glance at his Eurydice. But I did.