They’d sat in silence for a while, content just to be in each other’s company, to savour a moment while sipping their lukewarm coffees. Then Harry sighed. Deeply. The exhalation of an old, arthritic dog on a worn out mat by the back door.
“I’m done,” he said at last.
Buddy held his tongue, aware suddenly how shallow his own breathing had become.
“Done living.”
Let him be, Steam Donkey John advised, hovering behind Buddy’s seat. Argue, and you’ll never hear his side of the story.
Harry’s eyes moistened. For the first time, Buddy detected a slight palsy in the old man’s demeanour, a twitching at the corners of his eyes and lips that hadn’t been there before, a vibration in his hand, raising the coffee mug to his lips. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’m telling you first, Buddy, because I don’t know how to say it to Bernie or Jenny; and because we’ve got close in the short time we’ve known each other. All my old friends are long dead. Never thought I’d make a new one before my time came. You’re my last chance to make a graceful exit, if you get my drift.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been hanging on for a long time, Buddy. Hanging on to Mr. Beasley’s leash, hanging on to my Bernice, and Jenny. I couldn’t say to them what I’m telling you without saying it out loud to someone else first; and until you came along, I didn’t have anyone else to tell. Sorry to put you in that position…” Harry raised his hand like a stop sign when Buddy made to object… “but I need to speak man-to-man, because I can’t face up to Bernie, Buddy, until I know there’s someone other than me she can talk to… someone who can console her and grieve with her…”
“What about Jenny?”
“Jenny—bless her heart—always speaks her mind, and her mind on this is going to be dead set against. She’ll be on at Bernie and me not to go ahead with it, and she’ll have lots of good arguments to make her case.”
“And you think Bernice is going to want to talk to me about this, Harry?”
“She loves you like a son, Buddy.”
“I love her, too, Harry… like a son,” Buddy whispered, defeated.
That’s it, boy, Steam Donkey John coaxed. Help him! Help him! he urged, then vanished, the air behind him closing in. Buddy accepted the ensuing silence, the perpetual void. He fended off the impulse to hope and pray there might be someone else to take on Harry’s case.
“I’ve had a good life, son. A great life. But all’s that’s left now is memories. My love for Bernie is a memory of what we used to have; and Jenny’s not my little girl anymore, I’ve become her life’s burden; even Mr. Beasley was a memory Bud, of how I used to be… a real companion, not an old geyser to drag along on his walker…”
“Oh, come on now Harry! Mr. Beasley was your dog, and didn’t give a hoot how wrinkled and slow you were.”
“Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I should be grateful,” Harry allowed.
They shared a moment’s silence. Then, with a sigh, Harry relaxed and carried on.
“What I’m trying to say, Bud, is… I’m not living anymore, I’m just existing, and I want to end it.”
Buddy nodded grudgingly, then said, “End conversations like the one we’re having? Opportunities to rib Bernice? Evenings watching the kids play on Kin Beach? You know what I’m getting at.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love those moments. But they’re not enough.”
“Forgive me, Harry, but what’s changed? Why aren’t they enough all of a sudden?”
Harry raised his eyebrows and snorted. “All of a sudden! For christ sakes Bud, my odo’s clocking a hundred. I’ve had plenty of time to get worn out.”
Wait! Buddy said to himself. Listen and wait. And it dawned on him that what he anticipated was wisdom. Something Harry knew that he didn’t, a truth he was expected to take ownership of. To perpetuate. You’re an elder, my friend. Speak.
“Say you had a roast beef dinner a thousand nights in a row,” Harry said after a while. “It would still taste just as good, wouldn’t it? You’d still say thanks to the chef. But you’d get fed up with its tasting good, wouldn’t you? And you’d know that health-wise and environmentally roast beef isn’t a great menu item. And you’d hate the thought of cattle being slaughtered to make your dinner. You’d hanker after something different, wouldn’t you? But there ain’t nothing different you’re ever going to be served. Roast beef is it, because it’s the best eternity has to offer. Wouldn’t you want to stop eating eventually? Push yourself away from that table?”
Can’t say no to that, Buddy conceded.
“Can I let you in on a little secret?”
“Can I say no?”
Harry smiled.
“Tell me the happiest moments of your life… don’t even think about it, just spit ‘em out!”
“Falling in love with Leanne. The birth of Gloria and Robbie.” Buddy said.
“Were you celebrating what those people in you life were going to give you?”
Buddy frowned. “I don’t understand,” he flustered.
“Just answer, from your gut, Bud. Do it!”
“No!” Buddy protested. “I was celebrating what I could share with them, what Leanne and I were bringing into the world!”
“And there you have it,” Harry raised his hands, as if he was passing something over from the other side of the table.
“Have what?” Buddy objected, aware, even as the words left his mouth how stupid he was being.
“All our lives we’re told what we get’s the important thing. A new bike, smart clothes, a university degree, a wife, kids, a fancy car, big house, important job, hefty income, all of it. Take, take, take. But the only things that really matter, that really bring us joy, are what we have to give, Buddy: to our lovers, our families, our communities.
“Greed is never satisfied, it’s always looking for the next best thing; giving, genuine giving, is its own reward. It brings us real joy.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Yes you do.”
“Okay. Tell me what it is I understand, then.”
“I don’t have anything left to give, Buddy. I’m done. And don’t tell me I’m giving Bernice and Jen happiness, cause that’s not exactly true. It’s getting to the point where they’re giving me sympathy, and they’d really be happier with the memory of me, wouldn’t they?”
Buddy held his tongue.
“They’d never admit it, not even to themselves, cause giving’s the heart and soul of their natures, too. But it’s true.”
It can’t be!
“It is, Buddy. I’ve got no purpose anymore, nothing to give. I’m done.”
Next: The Golden