Saturday 3rd September 2011

"Please forgive me, Dad..." I croak, as tears start spilling from my eyes. I wonder how my lachrymal glands can still produce more salty water after all the tears I have shed over the past three weeks. I guess that this is another mystery of the human body and I wish I could stop that, but it just sounds impossible as I am here, at the cemetery, kneeling in front of my father's grave and about to tell him goodbye for a long while.

My father's loss was certainly the most unexpected event of the year; of my whole life I should say. Not my whole life, because of course I knew that the day would come that he'd be old and die like any other human being; but certainly not so soon; and certainly not when he always had a solid health. I never saw my father being sick. Not once. Not ever. Not the flu; not the stomach flu; not even the slightest cold. My father was always as strong as a rock and I always expected him to live a hundred years. So this had to be a surprise, and definitely the worst of all.

That day he felt unwell about four months ago was the beginning of another nightmare. He was rushed into hospital, although fainting was not that serious in itself - and I wish I could say thank God he was taken there. Unfortunately, it was already too late, and I so hated him for that. It happens that my father had been bleeding for years - where he shouldn't have been bleeding - and he never really worried about it; much less mentioned it. I don't know what he thought at that time, but surely not about a severe sickness. "I thought it was hemorrhoids," he said... Hemorrhoids my ass! When he explained the situation and said that he might have been losing a bit too much blood recently - which is probably why he fainted - and then spoke about cramps in his stomach once in a while, they booked him for a series of tests, and not only blood analysis obviously. Those included ultrasounds, X-Ray, colonoscopy in order to take samples, as well as MRIs.

I will never forget the day when the doctor summoned me into his office and broke the news. Dad had been in hospital for about ten days already; despite his complaining, they didn't want to release him until they were sure about the results; besides he was exhausted and very weak for some time. I didn't know what I should expect from the appointment with the doctor and the fact that he wanted to see me alone, but in the end, I was glad he did. My whole world crashed down for the second time in my life, barely eight months after the first time, and to say that it didn't sit well with me would be an understatement.

Unfortunately, I don't have any good news, Mister Le Guenec. We just received results of the latest exams your father took and they are really bad. Your father has cancer and I am sincerely sorry to say that he is in the terminal phase of his illness. I apologize for being so straightforward, but I don't want to give you any hope when there is none. I just want to assure you that we will do our best to soothe the pain and to let him go as peacefully as possible.

He lost me there. I didn't hear the rest of his speech that day. The blow was so hard that my mind refused to process the doctor's words, and yet it did seep through my head. My brain started to assemble the words and find a meaning in them, and as I clearly understood that my father was going to die, I was taken into a fit of deep panic. I was barely getting better after Benjamin's departure, in the sense that I had managed to anchor myself to my father. My entire life was revolving around Dad now and I plainly couldn't consider losing him. However, the doctor's words didn't leave much openness for anything positive. Losing the person who had become the most precious life preserver I could get was like sinking into a deep and bottomless abyss. I just couldn't accept this.

Once the Doc had managed to calm me down, I was able to ask more questions and get more answers. They would need to do more tests, but he estimated that the cancer had been here for about ten years. Contrary to one may think, it happens more often than it is decently reasonable. Some people just don't get the symptoms until they reach an advanced state of the illness and when the damn crab is diagnosed, it is sometimes too late to start any cure. In my father's case, both the colon and the liver were seriously attacked. They also found metastasis in his stomach and kidneys, and a few more organs were touched. The doctor said it was completely pointless to start chemotherapy or rays as they would only add to the physical pain. He assured me again that they would do their best in terms of pain alleviation once the moment would come, but he clearly reaffirmed that I shouldn't expect him to live for more than two months. Maximum.

So yes, I was glad that the doctor took me aside to break the news. Not because it had to remain a secret to my father - we did tell him a few days later - but because I couldn't allow my father to see me in the state I was then. And bad it was, to say the least. I cussed, swore, cried, begged, shouted and even whined like a baby. The appointment lasted for nearly two hours and I never went through so many emotions in so little time. Obviously, I just couldn't let my father see me like this.

He reacted much better than I did. He listened. He shed a few tears. Then he asked the doctor to leave us alone. That's when he recovered his authoritative self and his seriousness. He asked me to sit down and to listen well. He promised that he would never really leave me alone; that he would always be there, beside me; he would continue to watch over me from above; he would be there every minute of my life and whenever I would need him. And then came the requests. He made me promise that life would go on; that I would take care of his little business and the house; that I would find a decent person to love; someone who would make me happy and with whom I could start a family; I had to promise that I would speak to the kids about their grandfather and make sure that I would convey our common passion for the Atlantic Ocean; and above all, I had to vow on his grave that I would never make any stupid attempt to end my life.

Needless to say that I wasn't in a position to express my opinion on his requests at the time and that I promised everything he wanted to hear. At that moment, what I wanted the most was for him to be reassured on my state of mind and make sure that he would die in peace. I had to show him that I was strong and that I would pull through without him by side. Of course, it was all lies. I wasn't anywhere close to strong, and I knew that I would never be able to pull through without him physically by my side. Being a fervent atheist, I don't believe in the existence of God (who would be cynic enough to put humans into such difficulties?), much less of a thereafter. I like the idea of him remaining by my side or watching over me, but in the last three weeks, I haven't felt his presence for the slightest bit. As for the promises I made, as much as I love the sea and my childhood house, what good would they do to me if I can't share my passion for them with anybody? Finding someone who will make me happy is purely out of the question. The one man who could make me happy is more than three thousand miles away from me and has lost his love for me. No one will ever be able to compare to him, much less replace him. So what other options do I have left? Not many, obviously.

Dad being Dad, he held on for a little more than two months, just to shut up that old bitch of life. He was allowed out of hospital the following day after our conversation and stayed at home for a little over six weeks; as long as he was able to deal with the increasing pain. Seeing him decline a little more every day was painful and those two months were certainly some of the worst I ever had. I took care of him as best as I could, but once I couldn't do anything to soothe his pain myself, I forced him to go to the hospital and accept the stronger pain relievers. That day was almost the hardest. He knew that he was going there not to ever get out again, so we took our time.

He wanted to say goodbye to the Ocean and his boat, so I wheeled him in his chair to the harbor and he inhaled the sea spray for a long moment. Then he said goodbye to his house and his garden. When I drove him to hospital, I honestly felt like I was going to crack down at the thought that I was bringing him to his fate, like a lamb to the slaughter. However, I knew that it was the right thing to do and at least, once he was given some morphine, the pain became more bearable.

The last two weeks were difficult in the sense that I saw him clearly decay as his state worsened quickly. Things went even faster when his kidneys ceased to function. He would sleep most of the time. With no more filtration, the toxins spread through his veins and reached all the vital organs, plunging him into delirium crises and losses of consciousness. I spent all my days and nights beside him, making sure he didn't need anything and was cared for, and I really tried my best to stand strong all the time, even when he whispered how much he loved me for the last time. His heart stopped beating on August 17th and I allowed myself to crack down after he exhaled his last breath. I rested my face against his heart and shed what I thought were all the tears I had.

But there were more. There are always more. More tears fell when I had to leave the hospital room. More tears fell when I organized the funeral. More tears fell when they pulled down the coffin inside the vault, despite Thomas and Olivier's presence to support me. More tears have been falling since then and more will fall in the future.

I had secretly hoped to see Benjamin, but I didn't. But then again, how would he have known? I didn't tell him. And from what I heard, Thomas and Olivier completely fell out with him after the day he apparently called and asked Thomas to come and pick me up at the airport. So there is little chance that the news of my father's death reached his ears. And even if it did, would he have cared to fly here to support me through my sadness? Nothing is less certain. Would I have felt any better if he did? That might be a yes, at the time. But what about the aftermath, once he would have gone back across the ocean? It would have been even worse, I guess. And yet, I would have been able to try my best to make him stay...

Anyway, he wasn't there and I can't change that. The last three weeks have gone quite fast overall, considering there was a lot of administrative procedure to deal with, and this is far from being over. The days have been busy between those and what I needed to do for the business - thank God, my father had two very efficient workers who have managed on their own since early May and who are willing to continue like this. However, the nights are the worst because that's when all the sadness and hollowness assault me. That's when the darkest urges flood my head and I feel so gnawed between the promises I made to my father and the desire to give up. Nights are the moments when I simply wish I could surrender and yield to the darkness's call.

However, I still have enough respect for my father's memory not to try harder than I have for now. In the last three months, while I was taking care of Dad, I had managed to push Benjamin to the back of my head, but since I lost my last anchor, he has resurfaced in full force. I had stupidly hoped that my feelings for him would have weakened but that was only wishful thinking. The feelings are still here and absolutely intact. The emptiness he left in my chest when he left was only slightly alleviated by my father's presence, but now that he has gone, the void within me only seems harder to bear with. And this is why I took a major decision a few days ago. A decision that might save my life.

"I miss you so much already, Dad, but I have to do this. I have to give it a try or I'll never be able to keep the promise I made... This is too hard without him and without you... And since I can't get you back obviously, I should at least try to get him back. I hope you can understand this. I'm going to miss you even more, but I promise that I will think of you every day; even several times a day..." I continue, more to myself than to him, trying to wash away the guilt I feel at the thought of leaving him behind. "If things work out well, I'll make sure to come and visit you at least once a year. In the meantime, your guys promised they would take care of the business and everything..."

Three days ago, I decide to take things in charge. I am going to fly to New York and join Benjamin there. I know that I am taking a huge risk toward a harder fall; he might have started a new life with somebody else after all, but I have to give it a try. I need to see if he is happy with someone else or if there is still the slightest chance that I could get him back. Now that my father is no longer here, I feel like I could try the experience of living in New York. Of course, I know that things won't happen in the blink of an eye since I will need a special visa to stay there, and I would definitely have to take care of the inheritance here before I can move to the US. However, first things first. The most important one is to make sure I still have a chance with Benjamin, and this is why I am flying to New York on Monday.

Despite my rather gloomy and pessimistic mood, I am keeping my hopes rather high. If I am lucky enough and he hasn't met someone else there, I don't see why it wouldn't work. Deep down, I have a feeling that Benjamin still has feelings for me. I have often wondered if he didn't do that to protect me somehow; because he knew that the major issue would be my father and the fact that I wouldn't be able to visit him often enough.

Over the last few days, I have gotten to the conclusion that my previous reasoning was stupid. Benjamin's and my fates were bound together; ever since we met, we knew that something clicked between us and we always built our future according to the hazards of life, making our relationship stronger with time. Our love is not something I could explain. It just is. It just needs to be accepted as it is. And if our future - or at least part of it - is in New York, then so be it. I am now more than willing to try it and after all, as Ben mentioned, New York is still by the Atlantic ocean; just on the other side across the pond. With these thoughts in mind, I booked my flight and made a hotel reservation for a couple of weeks over there; it should be enough to find him and test the water, I guess.

"Wish me good luck, Dad... I can't guarantee anything about my sanity if it fucks up. I'll be back in two or three weeks anyway, so... You know I never believed in all this bullshit about God and heaven and whatever else, but... wherever you are, I hope you are enjoying yourself. I miss you so much... I love you, Dad..."

* * *

"Are you really sure you want to do this?" Thomas asks for the umpteenth time in less than two days as he accompanies me to the security check of Terminal 2E at the airport. I quickly peek at the officers at the gate, wondering if I might recognize one of them from about a year ago, but fortunately, I don't. Last time I was here, I wasn't allowed to pass on the other side of the detectors, but this time, I have my boarding pass and I well intend to board on the plane that will take me to New York.

"I have to try, Tom..." I reply sternly.

"Why don't you call him first?"

"We already had that conversation!" I sigh. "I'm sure he wouldn't answer my call. And I need to see for myself. I need to see him and I need to see how he is going to react. I don't want him to hide his feelings behind a telephone..."

"But you don't even know where he exactly lives!" Thomas insists.

"Don't worry about that; I have a plan," I try to reassure him but my friend only sighs in his turn. "I'd better go now..." I whisper, readjusting my backpack over my shoulders. Thomas engulfs me in a tight hug, and exactly as he did a year ago, he pats my back but this time, it lasts a little longer.

"Please take care of yourself... And keep us updated on the situation, alright?" he finally says.

"I will... Thanks again for the last couple of days. It was nice seeing you again..."

"Anytime, Seb. And I'll be here to pick you up in two weeks."

"Thanks! Say goodbye to Olivier for me!"

With that, I turn around and head toward the security check. After some quick formalities, I find myself wandering around in the terminal. I mostly spend the next two hours distracting myself by observing people or the planes through the huge windows, until it is my turn to board. The few times I took a plane, it was never for a very long distance, so the next eight hours are a bit of a pain in my ass considering that I am stuck between a teenager whose music is so loud in his earplugs that even I can decipher the lyrics, and a woman who must have fallen into her bottle of Channel N°5. And I am not mentioning the lack of space for my legs.

However, I still manage to drowse off and think about my plans in New York. As Thomas - and Oliver - suggested many times, I could have tried to call Benjamin before I fly to New York, but I sincerely need to see him physically, and the mere thought of getting closer to him with each minute passing by somehow makes me feel better. Things have to work between us. There can't be other ways. All I am asking for is that he accepts my love because no one will ever love him as much as I do.

Contrary to what Thomas thinks, it shouldn't be difficult to find Ben in New York. After all, I know where he works. The offices of his newspaper are located in Manhattan and all I will have to do is hang around nearby and wait for him to walk in or out. It happens that there is a coffee shop across the street, so I won't even look suspicious standing there. The most difficult part will be to gather my courage and go to speak to him. And if he is surrounded by colleagues, I can at least wait until the evening and follow him to his place.

It is early evening when the plane finally lands in JFK airport, and by the time I get my luggage and catch a cab to drive me to the hotel in Brooklyn, it is too late to start my search right away. Besides, the trip was still a bit tiring and the jet lag eventually gets the better of me as I lie down on the not so comfortable bed. I wish I had been able to stay in Manhattan, but the rates were simply ridiculous and I had to back down to Brooklyn where they are a bit more affordable, but I didn't go for the best hotel either and the mattress is far too soft for my taste. And yet, I don't know if this is the idea of being so close to Benjamin or anything else, but that doesn't prevent me from sleeping like a rock and the following morning, it is past nine when I awake, cussing at myself for not having set my alarm, because it is probably too late to catch Ben arriving at his work place now.

However, after a long and warm shower, I dress up in my favorite outfit, jeans, tee-shirt, hoodie and Converse shoes, then try to make myself look decent, which is not an easy task after the last four months. I have lost a good thirty pounds in about a year. My cheeks have melted and even hollowed, which is why I decided to grow a trimmed beard. My eyes have lost their glimmering light. A few gray hairs have shown up on my temples. Gone is the fat I used to have a little everywhere in my body, which is not bad in itself, except that fat is not the only thing I have lost. My six-pack has almost completely disappeared, as well as a consequent volume of thigh muscles and biceps. I wouldn't be surprised to find Ben more bulky than I am now. Anyway, I still try my best to look decent and not too sickly, then make my way toward Manhattan. I was warned that using the underground could be painful in New York due to its complexity, but it was an understatement, and after many changes and wrong directions, it is past noon when I eventually take a seat at the coffee shop across Benjamin's work place.

The afternoon sitting there, drinking coffee after coffee and pretending that I am reading and taking notes, seems endless and I keep peeking at the double doors of the building on the other side of the street. From 6:00 pm, my heart keeps somersaulting in my chest each time I see a light-brown head walking out. Until he walks out. He, the man I love. He, the man for whom I have crossed the ocean. And my blood starts pulsing through my veins at his beautiful sight. He hasn't changed that much, at least physically speaking. He is still the same beautiful young man who dumped me a year ago; his wavy curls are a bit longer but his facial features are still the ones I loved to contemplate for hours. His slender frame has gotten in assurance and he seems to be much more confident around other people as he is animatedly talking with a group of colleagues.

I quickly gather my stuff in my backpack and as soon as the group parts ways, I walk out and follow Benjamin and another of his colleagues as they head toward the subway. The pavements are full of New Yorkers but I don't have too much of hard time to keep them in my sight from a comfortable distance as the other guy is really tall. I am surprised to find myself back in Brooklyn when they eventually get out. The streets are not so crowded around here and although I have pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, I try to keep more distance between them and me. Their conversation seems to be animated but unfortunately, I can't hear what they are talking about; not sure I would even understand if the other guy is American anyway.

When they finally pull to a stop in front of what seems to be a complex of apartments, I turn around and pretend to be looking at some shop windows, discreetly peeking in their direction. My heart nearly crumbles do dust when I see the other man caress Benjamin's cheek, and before I do something I might regret, I turn around an leave, fighting for the air to penetrate inside my lungs. The disappointment is such and the pain so strong that I turn into a little alley and slouch on the ground and against the wall to catch up with my heavy breathing.

I don't want to accept what I just saw. It is not possible. I knew there was a risk, but I had managed to convince myself that Benjamin having someone new was not an option, so the image is like another slap in my face, and its sting reverberates throughout my entire body. I stay there for a long moment; until someone crouches beside me to drop two one-dollar bills in my lap. Oh come on!! It has to be a joke! Do I really look like a homeless? Too dumbfounded to react, I let the old woman leave without even thanking her, and it takes me at least five minutes before I find the strength to pull myself up and walk away. Having no clue of where I may be, I raise my arm to stop a taxi and show him the piece of paper where I wrote down the address of my hotel. The guy bursts out laughing and starts speaking words I absolutely can't make out while pointing at me in the direction ahead. After a while, he sighs and eventually drives away, heading toward the subway entrance where I came from, only to turn left a little before the subway and stop.

Now I get why he was laughing. I didn't even notice that I had walked by the street where my hotel is situated a bit earlier. I still pay him his due of course and get out, feeling shameful. Back in my bedroom, I let go and cry myself to sleep. Again.

* * *

"Ben!!" I call out, trying to catch up with him as he hurriedly walks toward his office building. I should have done that when I started following him this morning. Here might not be the best place to reveal my presence to him. "Ben!!!" I call again and he finally stops, slowly turning around to face me. I leave some distance between us, feeling like he might disappear if I get closer, like the illusion of an oasis in the middle of a desert. For long seconds that could be minutes for all I know, we just stare at each other in silence, oblivious to all the people weaving between us. I just don't know what I should read on his face. There is surprise, for sure, and a bit of doubt. Pain, as well. But no annoyance, or anger, or hate.

The last couple of days have nothing memorable for me. I spent them locked in my hotel room, trying to decide on what I should do. Of course, there was this guy and the way he caressed Ben's cheek doesn't leave much doubt on his affection for him. However, I didn't see anything else and I have tried to think that I might have misinterpreted the gesture. Today being Friday, it was my last opportunity to see him for I don't know if he goes out much on the weekend, so I eventually decided to try my luck again this morning. I didn't want to have to wait for next Monday, but when I saw him walk by my street, alone this time, I followed him from a distance, only getting the guts to call him out as we pulled out of the subway.

"Seb...? Wh... what... what are you doing here?" he breathes out after a long moment, breaking the daze in which we had comfortably settled in.

"I... came to see you... I... We need to talk..." I stutter; the tears that fill his eyes send shivers down my spine.

"Ben!!!!!! What are you doing!! You're late!!" someone calls in French from the entrance of the building, and I realize that this is the guy I saw the other day.

"I've... I've got to go... I can't talk now..." he mumbles apologetically.

"Please... Just a few minutes..." I beg, closing the distance between us, but without touching him.

"I'm really late, Seb... sorry..."

"At lunch then?" I offer pleadingly.

"It won't be possible today..."

"Benjamin, please I really need to talk to you... I want to m..."

"Seb, not now. I really have to go..." he says, already turning around.

"Please. Call me..." I insist one last time, catching his hand and slipping a piece of paper with my phone number between his fingers. "That's my number... in case you don't have it anymore. Please call... I'm flying back on Sunday early afternoon..." I then lie, hoping it will make him call me sooner than later.

"I'll try... I promise I'll try..." he replies with a hoarse voice before he finally hurries away, leaving me among the flow of passers-by.

Published on 26 Jan 2017

* Je suis venu pour te rejoindre = I flew there to be with you