KMC Forums - The Note...

The subdued sound of the rain outside was barely overwhelmed by the beeping of the machine. A shimmering sheet of rain water on the window pane dulled and greyed the outside world. John laid on his bed, unable to move much since the IV drip hooked up in his arm and the breathing tube limited what movement he could make.

He was dying. Not from cancer, or from external injuries, but from the smallest and the most deadliest form of life on earth: a viral infection with no known cure. At times his body would convulse violently, which would cause him severe pain. He felt he was losing control of his life and of his mind.

Earlier he had sent out all his family to be left alone for a bit, and was awaiting Harry to come visit. Harry was late. John wasn’t too concerned, but he was pressed for time. He could go at any moment, or at least that’s what the doctors had stated. The rain continued unabated, and for a while, it seemed to have gotten stronger in the last minutes.

When Harry appeared. His face was solemn. John and Harry had been friends for years. They had worked in the same company for quite some time. John had been employed nearly six years before Harry was hired, but when he had came on board, the two clicked. They were like-minded and had shared an odd sense of humour that no one but themselves would understand. Now John lay in a hospital bed dying, and Harry looked on, with deep concern.

Harry stepped a little closer to John’s bed. “Hey John,” he said softly. John turned towards where Harry stopped and smiled. “Harry. Hey, how have you been?”

Harry tried to choke back a tear and said, “Looks as if I’m doing a lot better than you, eh?” Even in the saddest moments, the humour never seems to leave him. John laughed as best as he could, knowing that that’s what Harry had wanted him to do.

“Still the same old Harry,” he said. “Wanna trade?” Harry let out a laugh. “Not if my life depended on it,” Harry retorted.

“Please. Stop. It hurts when I laugh,” John shot back. A second or so of silenced followed. John motioned Harry to take a seat next to the bed. When Harry did, John reached out with his hand for Harry to take it. Harry did as he was bid. There was still some warmth in those hands. Hands that had more creativity than any man or woman that Harry as yet to meet or ever will.

“Harry, there’s something I need you to do.”
“What is it, John? You know I’ll do anything you ask,” Harry said.
“I need you take this down. Have you got a pen and paper?”

Harry fished for a pen in his pockets. When he found it, he raised it up in triumph and smiled.
“Doesn’t look as if I’ve got any paper though,” Harry said sadly. John motioned to the bed tray hovering above him; food untouched. Harry looked over and saw there a paper pad. He took it and set himself to write.

“Okay John, I’m ready.” John tried to sit up, but failed in the end. He brushed away Harry’s attempt at helping him. Resigned, he laid exactly as he was before. John took a few shallow breaths, then began.

“First off I want you to write down this email address,” Harry wrote down the address when John spoke it. “Rachel W at send it dot com?” Harry repeated. John nodded.

“I want you to email Rachel, that’s her name. She doesn’t know yet what has happened,” John coughed. “I haven’t spoken to her in two weeks, and I’m sure she’s either worried or very pissed off.”

“Who is this girl, John,” asked Harry. “Someone I met not too long ago…online,” John said. Harry didn’t say a word, but his face pinched with wonder at the idea of meeting someone online.

“I love her, Harry. And she loves me. We had made plans to be together, before this happened to me.” Harry moved a little in his chair, not from being uncomfortable, but that his bottom was falling asleep. “So she doesn’t know what’s happened to you then?”

John looked away. “No.” Harry looked down, knowing that John must feel some form of guilt that he was leaving someone he loved and will never have the chance to be with. Harry could only wonder. John looked back at Harry by his side.

“When you email her, Harry, I want you to tell her exactly what has happened. And how I feel, and that I’m very sorry for leaving her like this and that we’ll never have the chance to be together,” he coughed again. “But mostly, that I’m sorry that she had to fall in love with someone when she could’ve been with someone else in real life, rather than waiting on a hope and a dream.”

Harry reached out to his friend, trying to reassure him when he saw a single tear fell from John’s eye. Harry noticed in the last minutes or so that John seemed to struggle more to keep coherent, clinging more to life. His breathing was raspy and when he spoke, it was strained.

“Also…also, I want you to tell her that I love her,” John then went into a coughing fit. Harry tried his best to help him, but felt helpless. John again waved him away.

“I’m all right.” Harry sat back down and looked at the note he had taken. He scratched the back of his head and sighed.

“Um…John, isn’t she going to wonder who the Hell I am?” John smiled while he looked up at the ceiling. It looked as if John had finally accepted fate.
“I suppose she would at that. But I once told her that if she were to ever receive an email from someone named Harry, then it wouldn’t be good news. She said she hopes that never happens,” John tried to suppress a laugh.

“I guess it’s going to happen now, huh Harry?” Sadly, Harry didn’t see the humour in that comment.

“Oh lighten up, will you. It’s me on this bed. Be glad it’s not you, okay?” Harry sat silent. Thoughts were running back to their times together: the sad poet and the procrastinating artist. That’s what they were known as. They had laughed at that label of themselves. Because at the time it was almost true. They both were silent after for a time. Each not knowing what to say. John had looked out the window, rain still strong. His breathing was quicker and shallower this time. Harry could only stare off into the distant. Not looking at his dying best friend or at the outside grey and wet world.

Life goes on Harry thought, but not for his friend. It seemed unfair, but then what is? Here’s a man dying with no hope of seeing tomorrow and he’s more concerned about the feelings and welfare of some woman he’s never met. It was an odd thing for Harry as he was more into what the real world has to offer. All of its vagaries and idiosyncrasies. What else is there? Harry had never known of a virtual cyber world. It seemed alien and strange to him. A world apart. It was John who broke the silence first.

“Harry?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
“Look John…”
“For Christ’s sake, Harry! Now’s not the time to mince words.”
“I’m sorry, John, but it looks that way.” John looked away again.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Harry looked up, putting on a brave face.
“What’s that?”
“All those people out there, living and breathing, stressing out about the most trivial things in life, never knowing if tomorrow or today will be their last day. I was one of the crazy, moronic, idiots out there Harry. I was. Didn’t care about nothing but what life owed me. Until I met Rachel. She changed all that. She showed me a side of life I never knew even existed. Then after 30 years of not knowing what it was I was missing, it gets taken away! I don’t even know what it all means really.” Harry said nothing. “Why the fukc would God deny me something I never knew, then give me a taste of that very thing we all want, then, bam! Decides I should die?”

Harry could say nothing, nor did he try to. “God’s got a wicked sense of humour, don’t you think?” John additional. Harry was about to say something when John raised a hand. “Don’t. No need say anything,” John looked at Harry, intent written on his face. “Go. Go Harry. Go and do this for me. Tell Rachel. Tell her everything. And if you can, enhance it however you feel is right. You’re a poet. Do this.” Then John looked away. Harry knew their conversation and visit had come to an end.

Harry took a few solemn steps to the door. He opened it slightly and looked back at John. He never did turn away from the window. So with head hung low, Harry left the room. John heard the door close. In his heart, he felt the weight of that closure. He shed no tear, nor smiled. He was now breathing far and few in between. John’s eyes were fixated at the rain slicked window. Fixated though they were, he saw nothing and everything. And with his last gasping dying breath, John died; eyes open, staring at nothing.

Harry stopped just outside the main entrance of the hospital. By now the rain had grown heavy, and him without an umbrella. He cursed under his breath. The parking structure was across the street and it was a little after rush hour traffic. He took the piece of paper with written information on it, and read it over again. Visibility became muddled in the rain. But Harry knew he had to go soon. He was already running late for a luncheon with a woman he had met through a mutual friend.

He made up his mind right there to cross the street from where he was. The thought of walking a block and a half for the crosswalk then walking back up again seemed ridiculous. When he stepped out onto the street, he was barely run over by a yellow taxi cab blaring its horn. Harry stepped quickly back. He heard the faint sound of the cabbie yelling expletives. Halfway down the street, Harry did not see the car coming at a speed dangerous even when not raining. Harry never knew what hit him. When he flew in the air, ribs irreparably broken, lungs collapsed and pierced, severe spinal injury and massive internal bleeding, he thought how life is very funny. Harry died before he landed with a muted thud on the pavement. The note he had held in his hand was now floating away down the street. The ink becoming smeared and unreadable, and with it all hope was forever lost.