The Three Who Got Away

One step, two steps and one last big step. “We made it!”, a female voice exclaims. It sounds like someone who’s heard of the concept of “enthusiasm” and is trying hard to imitate it, failing miserably.

Leo nods his head, dutifully acknowledging this fact. He takes in the view and labels it as “breathtaking”, without the slightest emotional valence. Dryly, he thinks to himself that he has truly died a while ago (though he isn’t quite sure when exactly) and that the difference between making it back down the mountain the fast or the slow way would be merely a formal one.

He gets pulled out of his ponderings by Monica’s voice.

“Look, another guy.”

“Oh, that’s just great…”

They weren’t expecting company and the additional variable in their equation doesn’t make the envisioned solution any easier. The two exchange a quick look. Their eyes scream overwhelm but their mouths stay shut.

“Oh, hello there, fellows!”

The jolly sound could scarcely be a bigger mismatch with their general dispositions.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Pushing his hands into his hips and assuming a wide stance, he looks like a perfect template of an overambitious part-time explorer. Leo, looking another way, rolls his eyes. “Totally”, he says.

Though annoyingly good-humored, the new arrival is not imperceptive. He turns around and inspects Monica and Leo.

“Well, you two look like someone just murdered your babies.”

“A pleasure to get to know you too!” Monica responds, trying to sound irritated but silently appreciating the man’s directness. That might make things easier.

“It is unusual to encounter anyone around here this time of day. The sun’s already setting and it’s quite a long way down. Even the nearest hut is more than two hours away. What brings you here?”

There is a short break. The man looks the two directly in the eyes and raises his eyebrows. Just as the silence is starting to weigh heavy, Leo sighs.

“We plan to take the fast way down.”

He points toward the edge.

“Leo! That’s not the first thing you tell a stranger!”

This time, Monica is really outraged.

“I’m slightly beyond caring about social norms, honey”, Leo says. His eyes look glassy.

“Doesn’t mean you need to be egoistic! Now he must bear the burden of it.”

She points at the man.

“Oh, and what about your poor, wrinkly mum?”

Monica inspects her shoes attentively, an expression of guilt washing over her face.

“She barely recognizes me anymore”, she mumbles.

Both are shaken out of their argument when the man clears his throat. They half-forgot him. He seems quite unbothered by this, as well as by the fact that two strangers just told him they were planning to jump off the mountain top.

“So, what’s your story? Why would you jump?”. He seems genuinely curious and impressively untroubled. Leo tilts his head slightly and raises one eyebrow.

“Have we met before? You’re starting to seem strangely familiar.”

The man slowly shakes his head but says nothing.

Leo shrugs. “Hmm, I might be confusing you with someone.”

And then, the two decide to tell their stories. After all, what would hold them back now?

Monica talks about having been single for the past fifteen years and how she slowly stopped trying. She talks about having been a professional ice-skater and how a severe knee injury brought a sudden end to that. She talks about barely getting by as a nighttime receptionist and still not knowing how to fill her free hours as she’s long lost both, passions and friends. The last relevant person in Monica’s life at this point is her mother, who is bedridden and only recognizes her daughter in her very rare, bright moments. She talks about being so fundamentally hopeless that no strong feelings are left. She has become numb. Disillusioned. Unwilling to get out of bed even one more day.

When she stops, only the wind blows. Trees bend. The last glimpses of an orange sun vanish behind the opposing mountain ridges.

Then, Leo begins.

He talks about being bullied and sexually harassed as a kid. How unbearable life in the countryside became when his schoolmates and family found out he was gay. How he moved to the big city, hoping for a fresh start, only to end up in jail soon after for having broken into an apartment in a cocaine rush. At that point, he had already lost most of his lifetime earnings to gambling. He talks about how his debt now far exceeds anything he could ever reasonably hope to pay back. How he distanced himself from former social environments and how the few remaining people progressively cut him out of their lives. He talks about seeing no point anymore. About the complete absence of any joy or hope. About how the question why he’s still going on with this, became louder with every passing day lately. And how, when he went to bed yesterday, after another day of feeling like a soulless automaton, he decided it was enough.

Somehow, both feel strangely relieved. Like they had to let it all out one last time.

“Ok, thank you for sharing”, the man only says. Monica and Leo look completely baffled. The silence lasts for quite a while this time. Then Leo can’t take it anymore.

“That’s it? That is all you are going to say? We just shared our fucking life stories; we poured our hearts out. Told you why we came here to die. And your only response is ‘Thank you for sharing’?”

The man takes a deep breath. He looks toward the horizon as he speaks.

“It is not on me to convince you of life’s value. I don’t know you and if that is the decision you have taken, I won’t interfere. I only know that the same story can have many different endings.”

Leo can’t take it.

“Seriously? That’s it? Aren’t you supposed to spill some pseudo-wisdom on us? Some empty lines about finding beauty and meaning in the little moments? About how we can always start again? How life is worth living just to feel seawater on your feet or see the sun set once more? How there are surely people that care about us or at least a dog that will now wait for an owner that won’t return? How, if nothing else, we must have each other to hold on to as we couldn’t even do this alone? Do you have no grand ideals, no ultimate beacon of hope?”

“I don’t”, the man says. “But you seem to care.”

A wolf howls and a cold shiver passes through Monica’s bones, which seems ironic given the situation. The sun has set entirely by now.

“We haven’t even introduced ourselves”, the man remarks.

Leo, not quite grasping the relevance of that says, “I’m Leo”. Monica says, “I’m Monica”.

The man nods. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Jim. Jim the Reaper.”

He pauses. The night is dark, but the moonlight illuminates their faces.

Jim the Reaper smiles. Then he looks toward the edge. Takes some steps toward it.

“There are infinitely many reasons to live, just as there infinitely many to die.”

He opens his mouth to say more but, having changed his mind, closes it again after a second. Instead, he holds out both hands.

Monica takes one, Leo the other. They feel each other’s warmth.

The three of them look up at the sky. The air is cool.

And the stars shine brighter than ever.