Read My Life in Darkness Online
Authors: Harrison Drake
My Life in Darkness (6 page)
Hopefully it will give me the strength I need to do what I have to do.
JULY 13, 2037
Lena,
I did it. I’m single again and living alone once more. Have been for almost a year now actually. It took me a long time to do it, but it’s for the better now that things are over. I talked to her a couple of months ago, she sounded so happy. She’s found someone new, someone who sounds like everything I could never be. There was just so much, I don’t know, satisfaction, in her voice when I talked to her, like everything was the way it should be.
It was hard to let her go but at least I can take solace in the fact that, in a roundabout way, I gave her that happiness, the chance at a new life, the life she deserved. It’s weird being alone again, especially after I’d finally gotten used to living with someone, to having someone. Now I’m on my own and trying to adjust to a life I lived for over half a century. I guess that’s how life is, or is supposed to be. A constant adjustment.
Too bad I’m terrible at adjusting.
I need this recharge. It’s almost here, it’s getting too dark to write much more. Three and a half minutes. Another decent one—long, but still not long enough. Am I crazy to think that the darkness would sustain me? Even if I didn’t breathe the entire time?
DECEMBER 26, 2038
Lena,
Thanks for coming over to talk to me earlier, it really helped. This is hard to write through the tears but I want to write it, to say the things I couldn’t say. Yes, I have cancer. It started in my pancreas, just like my mother’s did. The survival rate for this type of cancer, well, it isn’t good. But medicine has come a long way, even in the relatively short time since my mother’s death.
I only found out a week ago, and I was supposed to have immediate surgery but I postponed it. Probably stupid, I know, but I think the darkness will help me, heal me somehow. Maybe it’ll help me fight it, maybe it’ll store itself inside my body to help me during the surgery. I’ll be back in Canada in two days, and my surgery is scheduled for the day after that.
I wish the darkness would stay longer this time, but it’ll have to do. Only two minutes and ten seconds this time.
I can’t keep this up, I have to stop writing. I won’t be at the next one, although I doubt you will either since it’s in Antarctica. Don’t take that as a bad sign, but if I’m not at the one after that…
I hope to see you again, but the chances aren’t that good. If anything should happen, know that I’ve always loved you.
APRIL 30, 2041
Lena,
I’m here, and seeing you, having you come up to me to ask me how I was doing, it was the greatest thing in the world. Whenever the outlook was bad, when the pain was too much to bear, when the chemotherapy was destroying my body, I just had to think of you to get through it. You’ve saved me so many times, I can’t thank you enough.
They were there too, at times anyway. I would catch a glimpse sometimes before they could scurry away.
I’m in remission right now, but the doctors are keeping a close eye on me. If it comes back, I know you’ll save me again. It’s what you’ve always done and I know it’s what you’ll always do.
I can see it in your eyes, when you talk to me. I can see how much you care, even though you don’t know me at all. Is it just because of who, or what, we are? There aren’t many of us umbraphiles out there, so is it just that? Is that why you care for me? Or is it something more? You know me, I’ll think about these things until I can’t think anymore. My hopes are obvious, my heart always wins when it comes to you.
I hope you stay healthy, I hope you never have to battle cancer. It’s a horrible thing, a terrible fight no one should have to go through. Maybe I should have used what little I’d been given-intelligence was the only good thing-to work on a cure. You know, something to benefit the human race, not videogames that no one cares about anymore. I doubt many people even remember them.
But they gave me the life I have now, and I’ve given back. I’ve donated millions to cancer organizations in the years since my mother got sick, and another large chunk when I did. I doubt it’ll be enough to put an end to it all, but maybe it’ll help.
Why when I need it so badly does the darkness stay away? Only a minute and forty-seven seconds of it this time, barely enough to last me when I’m healthy. I’ve taken to keeping all these letters on me when I’m here, as I get older and less healthy. That way, maybe if something happens to me you’ll find the letters and things will all make sense to you, you’ll finally know how I’ve always felt.
It’s getting harder for me to be without you, harder to bear the distances between us and the time that lasts between eclipses. My life is one big regret. If I could go back, I’d talk to you when we were young, I’d tell you how I felt and maybe, just maybe, we’d be together now, arm in arm as the darkness set in, our adult children beside us.
A man can dream, right?
APRIL 20, 2042
Dear Lena,
I’m so sorry, Lena. I wish I could do something for you, something to make it all better. But I can’t, I’m just as useless as ever. You came to me, crying and telling me everything and I still didn’t know what to say.
I’m sorry to hear about your husband, he was too young to die. A heart attack while driving, you said. At least no one else was hurt. I couldn’t bear to think of you being in the car at the time, panicking as he lost control and went into oncoming traffic. It must have been horrible to get the phone call.
Your children seem like ghosts, and so do you. That spark in your eyes is gone, it’s like there’s nothing left inside you, like his death took away a large part of what makes you special, your ‘soul’ if you will. I know you’ll get it back, it’ll just take time.
You said he only died two months ago. I’m glad that you came and brought your kids. I know I see this differently, but I think the eclipse will help you all, give you the strength to carry on. It can’t be easy to lose someone after so many years. But it looks like you have a lot of good things to focus on.
Those rings on your daughter’s finger haven’t even begun to lose their luster and, if I may be so bold, she appears to be showing, albeit just barely. Congratulations. I guess it’s a bittersweet thing though, as excited as you all must be, it comes with the pain of knowing your husband will never meet his grandchild, that your daughter won’t have his support in the years to come.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I wish there was some way I could help you. If we do connect during totality, if I’m not imagining it, I’ll be as strong as I can so that maybe it will pass to you and your family, maybe it’ll help. We have four minutes and three seconds this time.
Finally, a decent one since the next one will be too small, short and remote to even bother with.
But while we’re here, while were watching this one-to your husband, and to his legacy.
FORT SIMPSON, NORTHWEST TERRITORIES, CANADA
AUGUST 23, 2044
Lena,
Really? You think I’d call you crazy? Because you felt like he was there last time? If you knew the things that go through my head, you’d probably believe yourself to be one of the sanest in the world. There’s something special in these eclipses, something that brings us so much.
I still sense my mother around, but not as strongly anymore. I know she’s still here, waiting with me for totality to come, and I don’t doubt for a minute your husband is too. You’ll get some more time with him today, at least another two minutes and three seconds.
It’s funny, I never believed in any of this sort of thing. If I couldn’t see it, if it couldn’t be scientifically proven, then it wasn’t real. How wrong I was. There’s definitely more out there than we can see, more than we can detect, more than just what we can prove. There has to be, or maybe we’re both crazy. I know I am, or was, or will be again. I’m glad he’s come back to you, though. It just makes life seem so much easier.
I didn’t want to say anything, you seemed so happy when you were telling me about him. It’s nice to see you smile again, even after everything. I didn’t want to bring you down, so I just stayed quiet and let you talk, but… it’s back. Or maybe it’s not and this is new, I don’t know. Now it’s prostate cancer, or was anyway. I’ve had surgery and radiation treatments and now it’s a matter of waiting to see if everything worked. I’m not as scared as I was before, maybe I already made my peace with death the last time.
It’s not like there’s much for me to lose, just you. And how can I lose something I’ve never had?
WALT DISNEY WORLD, FLORIDA, USA
AUGUST 12, 2045
Dear Lena,
I wish I would have come here many years ago. My parents brought me when I was six, sixty years ago, and I barely remember it. I’m sure a lot has changed here, but so much remains the same. And here we stand, in front of Spaceship Earth as the sun slowly fades from the sky. It’s been here, the centerpiece of Epcot Center, since 1982, and now we get to see it the way everything should be seen.
It’s a wondrous place to be regardless of the coming eclipse and I’m sure that you’re just as in awe of the architecture in front of us as I am, maybe more. You probably already know this, but Spaceship Earth, this giant building in front of us, basically spherical, is actually a pentakis dodecahedron taken a few steps further. It’s a twelve-sided object with each side replaced by a five-sided pyramid. Then they kept building on that idea to make it even rounder, taking it from sixty sides to over eleven thousand.
The math and science in it is enough to keep me entranced, but it’s beautiful as well. Maybe beauty is in the eye of the mathematician. A hundred and eighty feet tall, held off the ground by six supports. Did you read the plaque about it? The supports go over a hundred and twenty feet into the ground.
I find it interesting how fascinating it is for me to be here at Disney World to watch an eclipse. It feels a lot like Luxor did, but obviously completely different at the same time. The Valley of the Kings was a sight to behold, a wonder of the ancient world, a testament to what we can do if we put our minds to it. And yet we are now in the midst of what may even be a greater testament to the human spirit, to that unyielding desire to make one’s dream a reality. Even if he never lived to see it, Walt made his mark on the world, a mark that will probably last as long as the Valley of the Kings has, and one that will probably cause far more confusion for future archaeologists.
It makes me look back and question my own life. I know I had little purpose, that was evident right from the beginning. Maybe I could’ve had a purpose in life, if I hadn’t been told so many times how useless I was. I learned at a young age that nothing I ever did would be good enough and that feeling has carried on throughout my entire life.
How can I leave a legacy behind when I don’t feel as though I deserve to even have one in the first place? My life has been, for the most part, barely worth living, let alone recording for history. If there’s anyone who would want to know a thing about me, I’d be astonished.
It’s interesting too, going back to what I was saying about having the same feeling here as in Luxor, that this eclipse is also over six minutes, six minutes and three seconds to be exact. We don’t often see that much totality, and to see it in both places is quite odd. Is it merely a fluke, or is there something else at work, something about these places?
I know that’s ridiculous. At some point every spot on Earth will have seen an eclipse of this length. It must just be me, ascribing more importance-even a sense of intelligence-to the eclipses than is likely deserved.
Still, whether there’s more to it or not, it’s incredible and I’ll sit at every one, in total awe as I watch the mysteries of the universe unfold in front of my eyes.
AUGUST 2, 2046
Lena,
I got so busy last time waxing philosophical that I completely forgot to tell you—I’m cancer-free once more. I know, it’s a wonderful thing. I have to get frequent blood tests to make sure nothing changes, to make sure it stays away, but I feel like I’m safe now. Twice is enough. The odds of getting cancer twice in the first place were slim enough, beating it both times even slimmer. I’ve never been good with odds, I usually end up on the wrong side of them. But it seems luck, or the darkness perhaps, has been with me.
I’m only sixty-seven, I don’t plan on dying for a long time. I still have things I want to do, and talking to you is one of them. Even after all these years, I still find myself unable to muster the strength and courage I need to tell you how I feel. Maybe now we could find a life together, but then I think I’m taking advantage of your husband’s death. I’ve never been one to understand social conventions. How long is one to wait following the death of a person’s spouse before, well, before ‘making a move’? It’s been four years, perhaps that’s enough.
Maybe next time, you seem to have a lot going on right now. This is the first time you’ve brought your grandson, and I’m glad you did. One of the things I’ve always loved about children is the energy they have, it’s unbelievable. They never seem to slow down and everything is as wondrous to them as the darkness is to me. And your daughter is pregnant again. Congratulations are once more in order, along with congratulations to your son on his engagement. His fiancé is beautiful and they seem very much in love.