Razor Ch. 09

"Well, not from the beginning," I answered calmly "but in the end, that's why I let you convince me that I should try to get it all out, so I would feel better about myself... and in the end I think we succeeded. Just before I hit that wall I felt a strange kind of calm inside of me..."

"Did you crash into that wall on purpose then!?" William asked loudly.

"Well not on purpose-purpose," I answered, still keeping my calm "my brakes malfunctioned and I had to prevent a disaster somehow!"

Wait, I thought, the brakes, on a car that was serviced by professionals more often than was really needed? There was something that kept turning my mind back to cars, brakes, accidents. Something I was missing, a piece of the puzzle I just couldn't see. I cursed my aching head and turned back to William.

"So you weren't trying to kill yourself then?" he whispered in question.

"No," I answered "you should know how I feel about suicides..."

"What was your plan then? Why were you coming to see me that Friday afternoon?" he asked softly, a worried frown on his face.

"It's kind of a long story," I answered with a small smile "and we have to back up to the beginning a few years ago..."

He nodded and looked at me, his frown still very much in place. He looked at me as if he was trying to remember everything about me; he was intensely focused, waiting for me to tell him what he needed to know. I laughed softly and started singing.

"And now, the end is near, and so I face the final curtain..."

"Stop trying to make a joke out of it and just tell me..." William said softly.

"Yes..." I answered "I've told you my story already, the highlights, or perhaps more like the lowlights? You know, at least in general, about my personality, about my inner drive that makes me run fast and faster, about my ability to sense what people are thinking and feeling?"

He nodded and looked at me. His eyes were dark and blank, his mouth was tight and his forehead was wrinkled, and I knew he was still upset.

"I've used all of it quite shamelessly to build myself a small empire with several successful business ventures and as many, or, in fact, a few more organizations to help and support people in need." I said, fighting hard to keep my voice calm "And in the end there's just two things that are important to me; to know that my friends are happy and that they will have a good life when I'm gone, and that my legacy, everything I've created, my babies of sorts, are taken care of."

"And you weren't going to tell me, or anyone, about your disease?" he asked, his voice once more rough and angry "You were just planning on keeping it a secret and then you would just silently pass away?"

I shook my head and looked at him, his anger and sorrow written clearly on his face and his body; he wasn't actively blocking anything, it was all just flowing from him in large, dark waves.

"But you see, I had a plan... if you hadn't figured that out already, I always have a plan..." I said with a tiny, self-deprecating smile "I was going to tell my story to someone who dared to listen, I was going to ask for forgiveness where I thought I'd done harm, I was, somehow, going to make sure my friends were all relatively settled and happy, and I was going to find the right people to continue caring for all my projects. That was... all..."

I sighed and turned my head away. His feelings were too strong for my current weak state; I didn't want to get sucked into it, I needed to stay focused just for a little while longer.

"It was beautiful the way all the pieces of the puzzle fit together, almost as if it was meant to be..." I said in a whisper "but perhaps my subconscious made it so...? I know that Susan will be able to take care of all financial matters, that Rose and Sean will manage the charities well, together, that Samuel will look after the programming side of my IT-efforts, that Sarah will care for the young genius program..."

I was silent for a moment, thinking about my plans, determined to see them all through to the end. By forcing myself to think about my friends happily caring for my many babies/projects, I could force away the worst parts of the always present sadness and pain.

"But why...?" William whispered.

"Why you?" I answered "The reason why I contacted you... actually there were several reasons; it was partly because I felt I needed to tell you about your sister, partly because I thought you'd be a good asset in one of my organizations, well you were given an offer and declined. And that made me curious, as I've already told you..."

I paused and looked at him properly, letting my eyes follow the shape of his face, a face that was so different from his sister's, but also so very much alike. When I met his eyes, the eyes that were almost exactly the same shape and color as Wendy's, it made me want to break down and cry. But there were too many people to cry for and too little time left to do it in.

"And after meeting you, I needed you, to calm and balance me..." I said "and I told you what I felt I needed to tell someone, my memoirs, the not very pleasant parts... and before long I also came to realize that I..."

A nurse came walking in, and I stopped myself before I blurted out the words I had promised myself I wouldn't say. I could tell that William was tensely anticipating my next words, but by the time the nurse had left the room I was in control again.

"I..." I started before hesitating "I wanted to ask you to do me a favor. I understand if you don't want to, and it's okay..."

"Just tell me what it is, will you already..." he answered with a small smile that didn't quite fit in with his otherwise sad and concerned facial expressions.

I reached for the set of keys that had been conveniently placed on the small table beside the bed, removed a USB memory stick and gave it to him.

"Everything that everyone needs to know can be found on that." I said and nodded towards his hand and the memory stick "And, once I'm gone, I want you to gather all my friends, and I want you to give them each a message from me. It's all on there, contact information, messages and so on."

"You want me to go to your friends and tell them 'Hey, guess what, Mary's dead, and here's a list of things she wants you to do for her'?" he answered, his voice angry and upset once more.

"I said I understand if you don't want to do it..." I whispered in answer.

"No, I'll do it..." he answered me back "it's just... can't you tell them yourself? You need to talk to them, you know. You can't just die without saying goodbye, it's not fair to them, to you..."

He pulled his hands through his hair, making him look adorably rumpled. He shook his head, stood up and walked up to the window. He stood there, his eyes blank, his mind far away, and I could feel his anger fade into sadness and then reluctant acceptance. After a few seconds he turned around and looked at me for a long time before he started talking.

"For the record, I think what you're doing is taking a coward's way out..." he said softly "After hearing your story, I thought you were one of the strongest persons I had ever met, and I was deeply touched by the love you seemed to have for your friends. What you're doing is wrong, and you should know that..."

"Well," I said, barely keeping my tears away "it's a little too late to do the therapist thing now, don't you think?"

"And you do know that by asking me to give your messages to all of your friends, I am no longer your therapist, don't you?" he answered and looked at me.

When I nodded one sharp nod in answer, he collected all of his things before he walked out the door and then I fell apart, crying, because I no longer knew if I was doing the right thing or not.

* * * * *

I walked away from the pale shape in the hospital bed and I felt angry and sad in a strange, confusing mix. For all her smarts, she was stupid in her stubbornness. And I had been reduced to the role of a messenger. I heard a muffled sob somewhere in front of me and I looked up to find the nurse - Elena - standing in a corner, crying. I didn't think, I only reacted, as I walked straight up to her and pulled her into my arms.

"She'll change her mind," I said to her as I held her tight "you'll see..."

"No," she answered with a sob "she's the most stubborn person I've ever met. She won't change her mind... and she knows I won't bend the rules, not even to tell her closest friends about it, not if she's said she doesn't want me to..."

I thought about it, Mary didn't want her friends to be sad, she probably didn't want them to see her when she was sick and dying. But she was wrong, because not being allowed to say goodbye was worse than anything. I knew that and she should have known that.

I knew I should stop holding the sweet dark-haired nurse in my arms, but I didn't want to. There was something about her that made me want to take care of her, despite the fact that she was obviously a strong woman who was very capable of taking care of herself. It had been a surprise to see her again at the hospital when she walked in and told me she was Mary's friend before she asked me who I was. It was even more surprising when she yelled at me for getting into the ambulance when I wasn't even in a relationship with her friend. And then later on when she told me off for not calling for the doctors when Mary woke up shortly, she made me realize that she had a protective streak that was as wide or even wider than mine. I felt a deep sense of admiration for her, but it was more than that. When I held her in my arms, it felt like coming home.

I stepped away, looked at her and for a short moment I thought I could see something behind the tears that filled her eyes, but just seconds later she was her own, very collected self again.

I walked out of there and decided to go home, to have a well-needed shower and to eat some before I looked at the information on the memory stick that Mary had given me. If I had thought my conscience would have let me sleep I would have done that too, because it felt like what I had decided to do would be a task that needed me at top speed and full strength.

A couple of hours later I sat by my computer and stared at the memory stick. Once I started there was no turning back. Or who was I kidding, there had been no turning back since I jumped into that ambulance. I plugged the memory stick into my laptop, waited and hoped that my small knowledge of computers would be enough to let me find my way through the information.

A small window opened, listing the files on the memory stick, and I laughed softly. She had made it very simple for me; the folders and files had long, descriptive names. I found contact information, letters, her will, information about her businesses and two strange files that seemed to need some sort of password - "the sound of silence" and "enjoy the silence".

I shook my head at the cryptic ways of that particular female's mind and then I started looking at her short list of friends, the long list of her businesses and her complex-looking will, and tried to make sense of the information. Her three oldest and closest friends were Sarah, Susan and Rose. She also had male friends, Samuel, Mike and Sean. Elena was on the list too, and I smiled when I saw her name. It seemed she was Sean's cousin, and I understood her reaction to Mary's "don't tell anyone" command even better after that realization.

Her oldest friends all had quotes by their names:

Sarah - a river that drowns the tender reed.

Susan - a hunger, an endless aching need.

Rose - a flower, and she its only seed.

I had to think for a while, but I realized that there was one line missing from the song, the one with the razor and the bleeding soul. Of course, I thought, that would be Mary herself wouldn't it? I muttered something about cryptic on cryptic and my eyes were instantly drawn to the two "silence" files. I wondered what secrets they held?

When I had read all of her instructions, declarations of love and confessions to her friends I sat back and took a deep breath. What she had done for her friends or to her friends, depending on how you saw it, went beyond helpfulness; it passed the border into highhanded land; it was all pure manipulation. I had seen those tendencies before, in her interactions with me, but I hadn't thought she did it to anyone else. Her letters to her friends showed a small bit of remorse, especially the one to Rose, but not enough to wash away the bad taste in my mouth.

Sure, she had tried to build better lives for her friends, but no matter how friendly a thought, the fact was that she had decided for her friends, without consulting them, what kind of lives they should have, and then it didn't matter that she did it out of some twisted type of kindness.

I exhaled and thought about the letters to her friends, then shook my head free from the anger and the shock. She had managed to do it again. She had sent me on an emotional trip; from feeling extremely sorry for her, to being extremely angry with her. It was always extremes with her, wasn't it? She was one of those persons you either had to love or just couldn't help hating. The problem was that I couldn't quite make up my mind what leg to stand on, the loving one or the hating, and that meant I was forever stuck in a crazy dance, jumping from one foot to the other and then back again.

I realized that her problems had most certainly become mine, and I sure didn't like it. But, as my grandmother had put it, I just had to take a bite of the sour apple; I really just had to get on with it, didn't I?

I was too tired to make any real sense of it all, so I decided to sleep on it, knowing that my dreams would be anything but sweet.

* * * * *

I stared at the small bouquet of sweet-smelling lily of the valley and I realized it was the first time I had been given flowers. It was especially nice that my first ever gift of flowers would just happen to be my favorite ones. The small flowers with their too big leaves really wasn't all that pretty, but their scent made up for all their imperfections.

I let my thoughts wander. What is love? What is romance? Does there have to be romance for love to grow? A romantic man, according to various books and movies, was supposedly one that treated his woman with respect, and pampered her with sweet, considerate actions or by buying her cute and/or expensive gifts. But that type of behavior towards me would only make me run as fast as possible in the other direction with one question thrown over my shoulder - what's in it for you?

I looked at the flowers again and smiled. That unassuming but perfect flower arrangement didn't make me want to run, it made me want to laugh and cry, it made me want to dance and sing, it made me want to hug and kiss the living daylights out of someone.

The door opened and Elena came walking back into the room. Her eyes were red-rimmed but she wasn't crying, which wasn't really that much of a relief.

"I'm sorry," I whispered "I just... can't..."

"I know," she whispered back and sat down by the bed "but if Sean kills me when he finds out, then it's all on you!"

I laughed softly and took her hand. It was heartwarming the way she tried to cheer me up, when it was really me that should be trying to make her happier... somehow. I turned my eyes back onto the flowers and tried to spin that thought in my mind, what would make Elena happy?

"A young police officer brought those," Elena said softly and pointed at the flowers "and when I told him I couldn't let him in to see you he used an elaborate explanation, almost up to your standards, about having to document your injuries, needing to check if you were conscious, that his boss would ride his ass if he didn't get it done. All lies of course, but he looked so adorable holding those flowers, so I let him convince me."

"Simon? Simon was here?" I asked, really surprised by what I was hearing "How did he find out that I was here?"

"He was one of the police officers that arrived after you crashed." she answered "At first I didn't realize that he knew you, I just thought he couldn't stomach seeing another person in distress, the blood or something like that. Actually, I didn't realize he knew you until he stood by your bed and I saw how he looked at you, all sad and worried."

"Not so very simple Simon..." I whispered.

"Not simple, no," she answered with a thoughtful expression "rather complicated I'd say. He ran out of here after giving you the flowers. There was something strange about it too. He read something on one of William's papers, got really upset and then he just left."

"What did the paper say?" I asked slowly.

"According to William, it was a list of songs you had sung to him..." she answered with a bright smile "I didn't even know you could sing!?"

Elena kept talking until she realized I didn't quite manage to keep up with her. She then stood up, squeezed my shoulder, told me to sleep and left the room to me and my thoughts.

Simon had been there, bringing my favorite flowers. He had been worried enough about me to talk his way past Elena, not an easy task. Then he had understood my hidden message. And finally, he had been upset when he left. It all pointed in one direction and I wondered what I would have seen if I had been conscious? Maybe that it wasn't all just lust between us? But hadn't I really known that already? After he kissed my skin and told me I wasn't alone? After he held me in his arms until I fell asleep?

I stopped to think about my own feelings for a short moment. Simon, the man who could set my blood on fire, the man who challenged my mind, even more so that William had been able to, the man I'd been able to sleep comfortably next to, somehow feeling safe around him, despite the fact that we hadn't known each other for very long.

I cried then for the tiny seed of love that would never grow to become a flower. All is fair in love and war, but death pretty much conquers all...

* * * * *

I had contacted all of Mary's friends, just as I had been instructed, and I had invited them to join me at my favorite diner, which just happened to be owned by the master-manipulator herself. A fact that made shivers run down my back once more.

I made sure I got to the diner well before the time I had given Mary's friends and as they walked in the door I tried to figure out the names of all of them. Elena I already knew, of course. Samuel in his wheelchair was an easy pick too. Three women, two blondes and one brunette, were accompanied by four men. The women were talking quietly with each other and looked worried. The men were silently scanning the others, as if this was the first time they had all met and they were trying to measure and define relationships and hierarchical structures, a bit like I was doing. A lone dark-haired woman came rushing in after the larger group of people. She looked as tired and worried as the rest of them. A few minutes later a man came walking in, slowly and hesitantly.

I showed them all to a corner of the diner where the staff had set up a group of tables and chairs for our use. One of the waitresses took our order for free milkshakes, it seemed it helped knowing the owner of the place, but I silently wondered what she would have said about giving things away for free?

"Okay," I said when the milkshakes were distributed and everyone had settled down "I think we should do a quick introduction thing before we get started, because I haven't quite connected all the names to faces yet. I'm William and up until yesterday I was Mary's psychotherapist, from today and onwards I'm her slightly reluctant messenger."

They all introduced themselves and I connected their faces and names to the information I had read in the documents on Mary's memory stick. Sarah, Susan and Rose, her closest friends. John, Ben, Jerry and Sean, their partners. I forced myself to not cringe about the two-men-one-woman relationship, when Susan told us about her two partners and stared me in the eyes with a challenge as she did it.