Michael Robertson: New Reality: Truth

Leaping forwards, Jake rode the hill of loose debris, his weak legs threatening to give out beneath him, the wind flicking the headset in his hand. Arriving at the pylon without falling, he bobbed and weaved through the metal structure, pausing twice to catch his breath.

Pulling on the air through his scarf, the pain in his right hand flared up as if reminding him his lungs weren’t the only part of his body that had taken a battering. The burn now ran from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder.

When Jake came out of the other side of the metal structure, he saw his friend lying exactly where he’d left him. He now lay totally flat, which must have been why he was hidden by the pylon. Blinking against the sting of sweat running into his eyes, Jake sighed. “Thank fuck.”

The relief passed quickly. The tall man appeared to be sleeping, but was that even possible with a broken hip? “Tom?”

There was no movement from the man.

“Tom?”

Still nothing.

Dropping to the floor a little too quickly, Jake’s kneecaps cracked against a particularly robust slab of concrete. The shock ran up his body and culminated in him biting his tongue. The explosion of fire and the metallic taste of his own blood made him queasy. Folding his tongue over on itself, he probed the deep and slimy cut. How long before that turned bad like his hand?

Swallowing a bloody gulp, he let go of the headset, leaned over, and touched Tom’s cold face. “Tom, are you okay, mate?” Pulling the sunglasses away, he put them on. Tom’s eyes were closed.

When the tall man still didn’t move, Jake slid two fingers along his neck. It was hard to discern through the dusty beard, but he couldn’t feel a pulse. Looking the man up and down, Jake scratched his head. “Tom, wake up.”

Nothing.

Running his hand through his hair, Jake looked at the headset. He’d brought it to him too late. Grief twisted both his face and voice. “Come on, man, wake up. I went as quickly as I could.”

Nothing.

Closing his eyes, Jake faced the sky. “Please, God, let him be okay. I have a headset for him now. Please.”

“What are you doing?” Tom’s voice was feeble.

It jolted Jake from his prayer, and he looked down at his pale friend. His eyes were open. “You bastard, I thought you’d died. Jesus, man, don’t do that to me.”

When Tom regarded Jake, it was clear death wasn’t far away.

Grabbing the headset, Jake offered it to him. “Here, I managed to find one.”

Tom shook his head. “How?”

“It was just over the brow of the hill.”

Jake could see Tom grinning beneath his scarf. “What are you so happy about?”

“They heard us. After all these years …” Pausing, Tom closed his eyes, and took several breaths, “…of being watched. It’s finally paid off.”

The image of the naked and obese Rory filled Jake’s mind. Someone had been watching him when he was with Tom’s son. What did they think he should do now? Should he tell him? Would they think he was a bad person if he withheld the information? Would they punish him for it? At a loss for words, he handed the headset over and remained silent.

Wrapping his long hands around it as of it would give him warmth, Tom dipped a weak nod at his friend. “Thank you. I know you don’t agree with me putting this on, but I feel like it’s what I need to do for the sake of my sanity.”

The scarred top lip. The long ginger hair. The stretch marks. When he realized Tom was awaiting a response, Jake shook his head and tried to focus. “Um, so what will you do in New Reality?”

“I’ll eat and drink with my family.”

Jake’s empty stomach gurgled, and his dry throat ached. “That sounds nice.”

Looking at the mouse ears, Tom laughed before spiraling into hacking coughs. When he finished, he looked paler than ever, but he was still smiling. “I think we’ll go to Disney World.”

It pleased Jake to see his friend happy. It was the first time in what felt like years. Forcing a smile of his own, he thought of Rory. What would it do to Tom to see his son as the grotesque slug he’d just left behind?

“What’s wrong, Jake?”

Snapping out of his daydream, the grin still sitting awkwardly on his face, Jake looked at his friend. “Huh?” His mind quickly caught up and he added, “Nothing. Why?”

What appeared to be another hot wave of pain ran through the grimacing Tom. Once it had passed, he said, “You look a little,” his eyes rolled, his last word coming out in a delirious sigh, “preoccupied.”

“I’m fine. It’s just…” Jake stared at the headset. “I’m sad you’re going, man.”

The look in Tom’s eyes showed he knew there was more.

Looking at the floor, Jake said, “And there was something else over the brow of the hill.”

When Tom reached across and grabbed Jake’s hand, Jake flinched. “You’re cold, Tom.”

“Don’t change the subject. What else did you see over the brow of the hill?”

Angry red stretch marks. The Aston Villa Football Club logo. “There were two headsets.” His cheeks flushed.

“So why didn’t you take one for yourself?”

Shrugging, Jake looked at the Rixon Tower. It was easier than looking at his friend. “I know nature will win out. I want to see it happen.”

In the past, Jake’s comment would have been met with resistance. Squeezing Jake’s hand again, Tom nodded. “I hope it does. You deserve to see your desires fulfilled.”

Tom’s sincerity was a knife to Jake’s stomach. The last few years of Tom’s life had been about finding his son, and Jake now held the power to make that happen. “Come on, just put the bloody thing on and be done with it. Let’s not drag this out and get all sentimental, eh?” Looking away, Jake blinked to clear the tears from his eyes.

Patting Jake’s leg, Tom then lifted the headset over his head. The device cast a thick shadow over Tom’s long face.

Raising his hand, Jake said, “Wait.”

Tom paused.

When Jake swallowed, he tasted his own blood again. “Good luck, man. Sweet dreams and all that. I really hope it works out for you and you get everything you wish for.”

Tom smiled. “I will.” He then said, “Jake.”

Avoiding eye contact, Jake watched the hazy sun. “Yeah?”

“You’ve never told me about your life before New Reality. You’ve only ever talked about the future.”

Shrugging, Jake still didn’t look down at his friend. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I’d like to hear it anyway.”

Picking a rock up from the floor, Jake stared at it. “I had two parents that fully supported everything I did. For a while,” he added. “I was an only child.” Pausing, he cleared the hot lump of grief wedged in his throat. “Well, I ended up an only child.”

“Ended up?”

Jake tried to clear his throat again. “Louisa died when she was five. Leukemia. I was eight at the time.” Staring into the distance, he listened to the grit pattering against his glasses. “The hospital was such a positive place. It was full of bald children who all knew they’d get better.” After a sigh, he looked down at Tom. “Louisa was one of the few that didn’t. Positivity didn’t help her much and chemo stuck the boot in. She got progressively worse.”

When Tom’s grey eyes pinched, Jake laughed. “I bet you regret asking now, eh?”

Shaking his head, Tom spoke in a weak voice. “Not at all. The children’s ward was the worst in the entire hospital when I was working there. So bright and colorful. So many deaths. What about your parents? How did they cope?”

“Badly. They went to pieces. We all did. Once the death of a child enters your house, it never leaves. Mum did her best, but Dad was distant after that. He didn’t want to play football in the park anymore. He didn’t want to go on family outings. He didn’t want to leave his armchair. The TV was always on and Dad was always staring at it. He also drank a lot more. He was never a horrible drunk, just distant.”