Hope Restoration

He felt broken and shattered, shaken and bruised. He felt a growing anger as much he felt sorry for himself. The world as he knew it seemed crumbling around him and there was nothing he could do about it, no money in the world could give him the life he would loose, could extend the time that he had. He felt hopeless, in pain, a lost cause that no one could help, a sinking ship that no one could save.

She wanted to be with him, fearing the worst, fearing his depression would take a toll on him. But he insisted he was ok, he just needed time to process what he had just learned, he needed time by himself. So reluctantly she hailed a cab, while he smiled and waved back at her.

He wandered around for a while, aimlessly, not knowing what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go, what was in store for him. He just wanted a way out of it all. He wanted a balm for the pain, cause he couldn’t take it any longer. He wanted a way out, he wanted anything that would numb the pain he felt. He wanted to drown out the voices in his head that screamed loudly, screaming for help, like a man drowning in despair, it screamed but there was no one there. He was a hopeless case, far from redemption, at a point of no return. He wanted to desperately put an end to it all.

He found himself outside a familiar establishment, one that he had frequented before, at times by himself, at time with company. Instinctively he entered. The place was filled with the regulars, the good looking people of the world coming there to unwind, have a drink or two, picking up and hooking up. He knew that no one would even give a look, or even a glance at a middle aged man who had aged a few more years in the past hour. The thought drove him even deeper in despair.

He made his way to the bar and asked for his usual. He sipped from his glass and slowly scanned the room as the patrons kept piling in, talking animatedly, till he locked eyes at him. He saw him looking at him from across the the room. He raised his bottle in acknowledgment and slowly made his towards the bar, joining him at the bar. He ordered for both of them and sat next to him, clinking his bottle with his glass.

They just sat there sipping their drinks not muttering much, asking and answering in monosyllables. They didn’t talk much but were glad for each other’s company. It became evident that he couldn’t keep his drink down from his slurring words and unsteady balance and droopy eyes. He could have left him at the bar and return back home to his lonely life, what was left of it. But something within him couldn’t just abandon him there. He was not sure if he was in state to give him his address, so he took a chance and brought him back home. 

As he supported him on his shoulder, guided him towards his apartment, treading carefully as he walked unsteadily. He opened his door and helped him settle on his couch with the thought of letting him spend the night there. As he was about to leave to fetch a pillow and blanket for his guest, he felt a hand pull him. “Don’t leave me”, his guest said slurringly, trying his best to find the right words to say. “Please sit with me for a while, don’t leave me like everyone,” he pleaded. So he sat next to him, just as his guest giggled.

“You know you were the first person I noticed in that crowded room”, he said rather groggily. “Yes, I did see that,” he said trying to get out of the situation as soon as possible, not wanting to start a conversation, already regretting his decision. “You know why I chose you?” he asked, “Why?” he responded half-heartedly not truly wanting to hear the answer to that question. “Because I wanted to kill you,” he said slurring through his words. Now this caught his attention, “why do you want to kill me and what would you get from my killing me?” he asked, trying to sound as calm as possible, contemplating his next move. In those moment he thought this was destiny helping him to put an end to it all.

“Because of this,” he said pointing to the marks that the needles had made in his hand. “But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t,” he said stuttering through his word, “you’re a good man and I am a good man and that is not who I am.” He was now swaying from side to almost falling down, so he sat by his side, holding him. The thought of calling for help crossed his mind but in the man sitting there he found a kindred spirit.

“I am good man, and all my life I did everything I could to make others happy,” his guest said with his voice almost cracking from the pain, “I always did what would made others happy.” “But are you happy,” he asked his guest, now getting into the conversation. “In making others happy I thought I would be happy,” he said sheepishly, once again slurring through his words, “I always believed that god made me to make others happy.” “But you know what”, he said with a drunken mischievous smile, “I think I have forgotten how to be happy, I’ve  forgotten what Happy feels like” he said and bursting out laughing as if he had just cracked a rather funny joke. 

“I have been in a dark and lonely place and this helped me back,” he said once again pointing to the needle marks on his hand. “I tried to make something of myself, pursuing things I wanted to do. But  in doing so I drifted away from the people who meant the world to me, I lost the people who cared for me. You know I have been alone for the most of the year. I have been in depression not once but twice,” he said now slowly sobbing, “but I made it through on my own, no one to help me out, I had me to rely on. I have no one, I am all alone.”

“Don’t you have family and friends”, he asked, finally putting his hand around his shoulder trying to console him, holding him. His feelings moved from fear to disgust, to pity, to sympathy, finally feeling his pain. “Who could I tell, I lost everyone I care for, when I moved away from them”, he sobbed, “I have no one, no one to care for me. Tomorrow if something were to happen to me I have no one who would care for me. I have lost everything and everyone, I have nothing, no one. I am broke and broken and in pain. I want it all to end.” He sobbed bitterly as he held him close.

“You know you are never alone,” he said as his guest who’s face was buried in his embrace. “You could just reach out and someone will always be there to help you.  Come now it’s late and you really must sleep,” he said slowly guiding him down to the pillow, tucking him in.

As he was about to make his way to his little bed to put an end to a painful day when he felt his hand grab him. “Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, “please be with me. I don’t want to be alone, not tonight. Could you please hold me and don’t let go of me.” 

So he lay by his side on that couch, holding on to him as he drifted to sleep. He was surprised how two lonely souls managed to fit on that couch. As he held him close, he could slowly feel his pain lift, like a dense fog lifting to reveal the things it concealed. He felt a weight lift from his heart, and made him feel lighter. He kissed him on the forehead not wanting to wake him up, he patted his head gently as a mother would pat her child to sleep. His eyes opened and met his, and leaned towards him. He could smell the alcohol on his breath, which should have ordinarily repulsed him, but he leaned forward and met his lips, pulling him into a warm embrace.

Now it was his turn to breakdown, to sob. As they lay there, in their embrace, they anchored each other, preventing the other from slipping into the depths of despair, giving each other hope as much as soaking in it. They lay there in each other arms, kindred spirits, bound by the pain they felt, the loneliness and despair, the hopelessness. They found a soothing balm in each other’s arms. Destiny seemed to have conspired and brought them together in the most unlikeliest of ways.

The next morning, after showering and having breakfast, he dropped him off at his place, placing some money in his hand, much to his protest, and promising him that he would never ever be alone again. As he sat the wheel seeing him go, me began to sob. He took out his phone and called her. “Hello, where are you? Are you alright?” came the voice on the other end of the line. “I touched someone,” he said trying to get a grip on his emotions, “and in doing so he touched me, I found the hope I needed.” He sat there sobbing, not for sorry but for the hope that now filled his heart from the hope that he gave.