It was one of those days, you know, one where you wake up and you feel like nothing could go wrong. The sun was out, there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and I just felt this inexplicable happiness coursing through my veins. So I decided to take advantage of it.
I threw on my trainers and headed for the park across the road. I had specifically chosen this apartment because of its location, because it was right next to the most beautiful park I had ever set eyes on. It was ideal for running, which I loved to do, but it was also nice just to stare at it, even through the window in the comfort of my own living room. Especially on sunny days, it was a great place to sit and relax. On the rainy days I stayed inside, but still used its beauty to help relax. It was just so peaceful there.
It was still early in the morning, so not too many people were out, and if they were, it was because they were traveling to work. A few small children were playing in the park under the supervision of their mother, but other than that it was basically empty. The leaves were just beginning to grow back on the trees, so that everything was green, but not overbearingly so. Though I have to admit that I love it when the entire park is smothered in foliage.
I ran for half an hour or so, then decided to take a quick break. There were several benches scattered around the park, and the nearest one seemed to be already occupied by a young man with curly reddish-brown hair.
“Is it all right if I sit with you?” I asked him, pointing to the empty space on the bench. He looked up at me with his big blue eyes, and I thought I saw a sort of aggression in them. But he acted very friendly.
“Go ahead,” he quietly said. I sat down beside him and had intended on not bothering him any further; he had been reading some sort of book that still sat in his lap when I had interrupted him. He did go back to reading for a few minutes, then he set the book down. “I'm just waiting for someone.”
“Oh,” I replied. I didn't know what else I could have said. “I'm just... taking a break from running.” I tried to be as kind as possible, and not appear at all rude, because there was just something about this man that was off. I just wanted to be careful.
He looked over at me again and this time his eyes were sad, and the blue had a greyish tint to it now. His thumb tapped against the corner of his book, and he seemed to have spaced out. Then he moved closer to me and took a deep breath.
“Do you like to read?” he asked me.
“I read sometimes, yeah.” In fact, at that time I had been reading a book by some new, and probably even local, author that I found in the bookstore a few blocks from my apartment. It was very interesting, and I honestly had a hard time putting it down. I must have read at least half of it within a day.
“Have you ever heard of a man called Jon Buckland?” I was startled; as far as I could remember, that was the exact same author that I was reading. Maybe this man was even reading the same book.
“Um, yes, actually. I've been reading a book of his for the past few days,” I replied. The grey disappeared from the man's eyes, though he didn't look happy, per se. He just stopped looking sad.
“Do you think it's good?” he inquired.
“Yeah. I really like it.” He stared down at his book. It appeared as though he was frowning now, but it was hard for me to tell from the angle that I saw him. I felt oddly sympathetic towards this man.
“He'll be here soon,” the man quietly said. His palm brushed over the surface of the book's cover, touching it as though it were the most fragile thing in the world. I thought I saw a tiny drop of water splash on it. “He promised me he would be here.”
“So, he is the one you're waiting for?” I asked. Still, I was trying not to pry or come on too strong, but I could tell that this man wanted to keep the conversation going, and I didn't see any other way. It seemed like he wanted to tell me, anyway.
“My whole life.” His voice was a broken whisper now. His index finger traced the letters that spelled out the title of the book: Could Happen Right in Silence. It was definitely the same book. Maybe he had only written one book. Or only had one published. “What's your name?”
“Guy,” I said. “And yes, that actually is my name.” Oddly enough, people never seem to believe me when I tell them that.
“It's nice to meet you, Guy,” he said, and I could tell he was trying to smile. “I'm Chris.”
“It's nice to meet you, too, Chris.” Chris sighed, tightly holding the book in his hands. He lifted it up to his eyes, and closely examined the cover for something. I watched him silently.
Without moving the book, he spoke again. “How long would you wait for someone before you-” His voice shook, and he took another deep breath to calm himself. “Before you realize that they're... not coming?”
“Not my whole life,” I told him, though I wasn't sure why I said that. It just felt like the right thing to say. I don't think he wanted to hear it, though.
He looked hurt, more hurt than before, and his eyes even started to water. After a few minutes of not moving, he slowly shook his head.
“I can't let him go,” he said with more emotion than I have ever heard anyone speak. This poor man... I even felt my own heart breaking as he went on. “I should have left already. I've been sitting here for two days. But I can't- what if he does show up?”
“He... won't.” As soon as I heard the words leave my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. So much for being kind to Chris. But it was almost like I was supposed to say it. I was supposed to be here to help him. “Two days is far too long, Chris.”
“I know, but... but he told me that he was going to do it.”
“Going to do what?” I asked him. He could have just meant that Jon was going to meet him, but I had a feeling that it was something more than just that.
But I never got an actual answer. Chris dropped the book, and it fell to the ground, a few of the pages crumpling as they smashed against the pavement under the bench.
“You're right,” he said. “He's not coming.” Chris stood up, though his legs were a bit shaky, and his shoulders slumped a little. “You're friends with someone since you were five, he writes a book about you and tells you over and over that he's going to fix everything, and he never does. Since we were five... I shouldn't have thought that he'd changed.”
I stood beside Chris, only now noticing the rather obvious height difference between us. Still, I reached my hand out and placed it on his shoulder. “You could do a lot better than him.”
Chris looked at me and smiled sadly, placing his hand on top of mine. “No,” he said, and I realized that he only grabbed my hand so he could move it off his shoulder, “I can't. But thank you.”
And that was the first and only time I ever saw Chris. He stalked away into the distance, and just before I decided to start running again, I saw the book that he had left behind, still laying on the ground. I picked it up, since I always hated seeing the park littered, and I figured I might as well keep it. Chris didn't seem like he was going to come back for it.
The first few pages were some of the ones that had gotten folded over during the fall, and so I straightened them out, and I noticed that there was some extra writing on the first page. It felt almost invasive to read it, but I couldn't help myself. Anyway, it seemed like now I was somehow a part of their story.
Chris-
I can't believe this book actually made it! Yes, it's the one I wrote for you (do you like the title?), and this is the first printed copy of it. It's actually supposed to be mine, but I want you to have it.
Anyway, now that I've finally been published, maybe I'll be able to make some good money. I won't be rich, but at least I'll be able to get by and then some. And just so you know, that extra money is going towards the big plan. It will all work out, I promise.
This is so exciting!!!
Lots and lots of love (the day will come soon, don't worry!),
Jonny
After that day, I never felt the same. Even on the perfect, sunny days, it still felt like there was something missing. Nothing was quite right.
Then a week later I was reading the newspaper, and for some reason my eyes skimmed past the obituaries and there were two in particular that caught my eye; one man died of a heroin overdose, and the other had committed suicide a few days later. I have a feeling that wasn't their plan.
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