Some Pain Will Stay
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
The next day, the wind was blowing at a steady twenty knots and I had to take my watch in shifts. The water was choppy but not too rough for us to sail on our own power; we were making good time toward New York Harbor. We’d been sailing nonstop since leaving Bermuda two days ago, with only one brief stop when it became clear that the storm would be passing by soon enough.
It wasn’t easy to work keeping this boat under control—it really wanted to run into shore if given half an opportunity—but there weren’t any other options available right now so we just kept going forward as fast as possible while trying to keep her from doing anything stupid like running aground or capsizing.
I took over the helm again after lunch, and even though I knew how hard it must have been for him to do all of those things alone during his last few hours aboard, I couldn’t help feeling guilty about being able to sleep through most of them.
I didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t woken me up before the ship sank beneath us…or worse yet, what could happen should something go wrong out here in the middle of nowhere without anyone else around to call for help.
But then again, I also felt bad because I still wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to save me instead of himself. Wasn’t it obvious? He saved me to make some kind of point about who’s supposed to die first in these kinds of situations? Or maybe he thought that someone needed to stay behind to tell everyone back home what happened.
Either way, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I owed him more than just a simple thank you. Maybe someday I’ll find out exactly what he meant by “some pain will always remain.”
After dinner, which consisted mostly of cold sandwiches and crackers, I decided to try to get some rest early tonight. There was no telling when we’d reach land tomorrow morning, and I wanted to be well-rested once we finally did arrive.
So I went below deck and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket tight against my chest and resting my head on top of it. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep but found myself unable to relax.
Instead, I started thinking about everything that had happened between us over the past couple of weeks: the times we spent together in London, Paris, and Rome; the nights we shared sleeping bags in tents along the Great Wall of China; the conversations we had sitting across from each other at the dining room table in the hotel in Hong Kong; the time he showed off by eating raw scorpions in Thailand…and the countless kisses we stole away from prying eyes whenever we could.
All of those memories made me feel warm inside, despite the fact that I was lying down in complete darkness. And for whatever reason, they reminded me of another night many years ago. A different place. Another time. Different circumstances. Yet somehow similar.
It was late April, and I was standing outside the front door of my parent’s house waiting for Jason to come to pick me up. My mom had called earlier that afternoon to let me know she wouldn’t be home until later, and although I hated having to wait for her to show up, I understood completely.
She was probably working overtime at the hospital, where she worked as a nurse. That’s what she usually did every Saturday evening anyway.
“Hey,” said Jason, opening the car door. “How are you?”
He looked handsome as ever in his black suit and white shirt, which was open halfway down his chest. His hair was slicked back, and he wore sunglasses to hide the dark circles underneath his eyes. I smiled at him and got into the passenger seat. Then he put the key in the ignition and turned the engine over. After starting the car, he pulled out onto the street and drove slowly toward the highway.
We talked casually about nothing in particular for several minutes before he asked me what I planned on doing with my life. I told him I hoped to become a writer someday, but I never expected much to come from it. At least not right away.
I figured I’d spend the next ten or fifteen years writing short stories and novels, maybe getting published occasionally, but that would be about it. Eventually, I’d give up and move on to something else. Like becoming a teacher or an accountant. Something that paid better.
Jason nodded, and I noticed that he seemed distracted. Not angry, but definitely preoccupied. As usual, I assumed it had something to do with his job. He’d mentioned that he sometimes traveled overseas for business trips, and I wondered whether he was already gone for the week.
If so, that explained why he looked tired and worn out today. Still, I couldn’t help wondering what kind of trouble he might’ve gotten himself into while he was away. What sort of dangerous situation could possibly cause him to look this upset?
The question crossed my mind again as we approached our exit. We were almost there. Just one more stoplight and then we’d turn left onto Main Street. The light changed to green, and I reached forward to grab hold of the handle above the window.
When I did, however, I accidentally bumped my hand against Jason’s thigh and knocked his glasses off. They fell to the floorboard and rolled under the dashboard. Without saying anything, he grabbed the steering wheel and steered the car straight ahead. I watched them roll farther and farther away, disappearing beneath the seat.
I leaned over to retrieve them, but Jason stopped me. “Don’t bother,” he said. “They’re broken.”
His voice sounded distant like he was talking through a tunnel. I glanced over at him. He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched tightly. I didn’t understand what was going on. Why was he acting so strange now? Had I done something wrong during our conversation earlier? Did I say or do something to offend him? Was that even possible?
As soon as I thought that, though, I realized how ridiculous it was. Of course, I hadn’t offended him. I wasn’t that bad of a person. But still, I felt nervous all of a sudden. Nervous enough to ask him if everything was okay. To tell him I was sorry for bumping into him.
Maybe I’d hit him harder than I thought. Or perhaps the glasses had slipped off because they weren’t properly secured. Either way, I knew I should apologize. It was only fair.
But when I opened my mouth to speak, I froze. For some reason, I couldn’t find the words. I wanted to talk to him, but I just couldn’t figure out what to say. So instead, I kept quiet and waited for him to respond.
After a minute or two, he finally spoke. “You don’t have to worry about it,” he said. “Just leave them alone.”
I frowned and shook my head. “What are you talking about? You can’t mean that! How am I supposed to drive without your glasses?”
Still, he refused to answer. Instead, he focused on driving. He took a sharp right turn onto Main Street and headed north. A few seconds later, we passed by the old movie theater. It was closed for renovations, and the marquee read: THE WIZARD OF OZ – OPENING THIS WEEKEND.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
No response.
Then, after another moment, he pulled into the parking lot behind the restaurant. The sign outside reading: JOE’S PUB.
“Joe’s Pub?” I repeated. “Why here? And where is Joe anyway?”
Jason parked the car and switched off the engine. Once again, he sat silently beside me. Finally, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I reached across the center console and grabbed his arm, pulling it gently until he faced me. “Listen, Jason,” I began. “Something’s wrong. I know it. There has to be. This isn’t normal behavior. Please, tell me what’s going on.”
He turned toward me, but he didn’t reply. His eyes remained fixed firmly on the road ahead.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Perhaps he’d explain himself once he calmed down. That was probably the best-case scenario. Unfortunately, things didn’t go according to plan. After a long pause, he simply shrugged and said, “Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Then he climbed out of the car and walked around to open my door.
We stepped inside together. Before I could think too much about it, he led me past the front counter and through an empty dining room. Our footsteps echoed loudly in the silence. No other customers were present. In fact, no one else seemed to be working either. The place appeared abandoned.
“Is everyone gone?” I whispered.
Once again, he ignored me. Instead, he guided me up a flight of stairs and into a small hallway lined with doors. At first, I thought maybe we were heading upstairs. However, when Jason unlocked the last door and pushed it open, I quickly learned otherwise.
Inside, I saw a large bedroom. The walls were painted white, and the furniture consisted mostly of wooden dressers and tables. Several lamps hung from the ceiling, casting dim shadows on the hardwood floors. On top of each table rested stacks of books. Some of them looked brand new while others had been sitting there for years. Most of the titles were unfamiliar to me.
In the middle of the room stood a single bed. Its sheets were neatly folded and stacked against the wall. Two pillows lay on the mattress, along with several blankets.
However, despite its clean appearance, this wasn’t exactly what I would call a guestroom. Not unless you consider a cot and a folding chair to be acceptable accommodations. Still, I tried not to let it bother me. My main concern was getting back home safely. If I did that, then everything else would work itself out eventually. Right?
At least, I hoped so.
Without saying anything, Jason moved over to the closet and started rummaging through the clothes hanging inside. He picked out a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a black jacket. When he finished, he tossed them at me. They landed on the floor with a soft thud.
“Put these on,” he instructed. “And make yourself comfortable.”
Confused, I glanced down at myself. I was already wearing a shirt and a sweatshirt. And those weren’t even mine. As far as I knew, they belonged to someone named Sam. But why would Jason care if I wore them or not?
“Are you serious?” I blurted. “This isn’t funny!”
Instead of responding, he pointed toward the bathroom. “Go ahead,” he ordered. “Get cleaned up. I’ve got something to do.”
With nothing better to do, I reluctantly followed his instructions. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. Then I went into the bedroom and changed into the clothing Jason gave me. By the time I returned to the living room, he still hadn’t come back yet. So, I made myself comfortable on the couch instead. I leaned forward and propped my elbows on the coffee table. I stared blankly at the television screen.
The news channel was playing some kind of political debate show. Although I couldn’t understand most of it, I caught enough to realize that neither candidate was particularly popular. Apparently, people hated both of their guts.
After a minute or two, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the kitchen. A few seconds later, Jason entered the room carrying a bottle of water and a plastic cup. He set them down on the table next to me before walking over to the window. From there, he gazed out at the street below.
I watched him closely. Something about the way he held himself reminded me of how he used to act. Back when we first met, he always carried himself like this. It was almost as though he expected trouble to find us wherever we went.
Even now, I wondered whether he might have done something similar during our previous encounters. Maybe he ran away every time things got tough. Or perhaps he just wanted to keep me safe. Either way, I found it strange.
Jason took a sip of water. Then he lowered the glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Finally, he turned toward me. For a moment, he studied me silently. Eventually, however, he spoke.
“You’re going to need this,” he explained. “It’s important that you drink all of it.”
Then he reached behind him and grabbed another bottle. This one contained orange juice. After pouring it into the cup, he handed it to me.
“Drink it slowly,” he said. “Don’t gulp it down. Otherwise, you’ll get sick.”
He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he walked back over to the window and resumed staring outside. Once more, I waited for him to explain why he’d brought me here. Yet once again, he remained silent.
For several minutes, I sipped the orange juice. In between gulps, I kept glancing up at Jason. His expression never changed. He simply continued watching the world go by.
Eventually, I finished off the entire cup. Satisfied, I placed the empty container on the table. Then I sat up straight and faced him directly.
“Okay,” I announced. “Now tell me what’s really going on.”
His eyes widened slightly in surprise. Then he smiled faintly and shook his head.
“No can do, kid,” he replied. “Not until you finish your juice.”
“What does that mean?” I demanded. “Why are you keeping secrets from me?”
“Because I don’t trust you,” he answered. “That’s all there is to it.”
“But…”
“Just listen to me for a second,” he interrupted. “If you want answers, then you’ll have to play along with whatever I ask you to do. Understand?”
“Of course,” I muttered.
“Good.” With that, he turned around and headed back toward the door. Before opening it, however, he paused briefly. Then he looked back at me.
“You know where the bathroom is, right?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Well, use it,” he added. “There’s no reason to stay here any longer than necessary. We should be leaving soon anyway.”
When I hesitated, he sighed softly.
“Look, kid,” he told me. “We’ve been through too much together for me to turn my back on you now. You wouldn’t either, would you?”
“No,” I admitted.
“All right,” he declared. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for an answer, he opened the front door and stepped outside. The instant he did so, the lock clicked shut behind him. Then he closed the blinds and locked the windows.
Once everything was secure, he turned around and motioned for me to follow him. Together, we started walking down the sidewalk toward the end of the block. As usual, no one bothered us. No one even seemed to notice us.
In fact, I had a hard time believing anyone was home. Most of the houses were dark. Some weren’t occupied at all. Others appeared abandoned. They stood vacant and lifeless.
As we passed each house, I glanced inside. Many of them offered little in the way of shelter. There wasn’t even enough furniture left to sit on. And none of the appliances worked anymore. All they provided was darkness and silence.
The same could be said of the cars parked on the street. None of them moved. Not a single one emitted any kind of noise whatsoever. At least not while I was present. But if I listened carefully, I knew I’d hear their engines running somewhere nearby.
And yet, despite these conditions, nothing happened. Nobody came after us. Nothing tried to stop us. Every step we took felt completely natural. Like something I ought to have known since birth.
At last, we arrived at the end of the block. Here, we stopped and stared out across the open field beyond. It stretched away as far as the eye could see. A vast expanse of grass and dirt. Overgrown and unkempt.
Beyond this, I saw the lights of the town shining brightly. From there, I gazed up at the stars above. So many of them. Each one twinkled like a distant star. One by one, they vanished into the night sky. Finally, only a handful remained.
After taking a deep breath, I turned around and returned to the house. When I entered, Jason followed close behind. Once more, he closed the door and secured the locks. Then he went over to the kitchen counter and retrieved two glasses filled with water.
“Here,” he told me. “Drink up.”
With that, he handed me both cups. Then he sat down next to me and watched me intently. For several moments, neither of us spoke. Eventually, though, I decided to break the ice.
“So,” I began hesitantly. “Where exactly are we going? What’s our destination?”
He gave me a strange look. Then he leaned forward and set his glass aside. After doing so, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. This he placed on the table before us. Then he picked it up again and removed its contents.
A pair of sunglasses.
“These will help keep you safe,” he explained. “They’re specially designed to protect against the sun’s rays. That means you won’t get burned or anything.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
Then I slipped them onto my face. To my surprise, they fit perfectly. In fact, they felt just like regular sunglasses. Only better. More comfortable. And most importantly, they didn’t feel heavy at all.
“How come you never mentioned these before?” I wondered aloud.
Jason shrugged nonchalantly. He then raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side.
“Wouldn’t have made sense,” he pointed out. “This isn’t the real world, remember?”
That caught me off guard.
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
“Remember what I told you about the other day?” he reminded me. “About how the people who live here don’t age? Well, that applies to clothing too. Everything gets worn out eventually. Even clothes. Especially clothes. Because they need to be replaced constantly.
Otherwise, everyone would die from exposure long ago. Which is why nobody ever wears new stuff. Instead, we buy used ones whenever possible.”
I nodded slowly.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But where does your dad shop for his clothes?”
“Oh, he doesn’t,” Jason answered. “Not really. He has someone else take care of those things. Someone he trusts implicitly. Somebody who knows the rules very well.”
“Who would that be?” I asked.
“Nobody important,” Jason responded. “Just some guy named Jim.”
***
My father had always taken good care of himself. But lately, he looked worse than ever. His skin was dry and flaky. Wrinkled and scaly. The hair on his head was thinning. And his eyesight kept getting worse.
It wasn’t surprising, given the circumstances. Still, I couldn’t help but worry. I wanted to ask him about it someday soon. Maybe when I got back home. If I did, maybe he might tell me what was wrong. Or at least give me a clue as to how I should go about fixing things.
For now, however, I needed to focus on the task at hand. On finding out what was happening in the outside world. Specifically, I wanted to know whether or not the government was still functioning. Was the country still under martial law? Had the military seized control of everything? Were ordinary citizens being rounded up and detained without trial?
If so, I was determined to find a way to free them. No matter what it took.
To make matters even more complicated, I realized that I hadn’t seen my mother since she left. Nor had I heard from her either via phone call or email. She’d been gone for almost three weeks now. Three whole days longer than usual.
And yet, despite all of that, I knew that I shouldn’t worry. My mom always came through. Always managed to pull herself together somehow. Somehow, no matter how bad things seemed, she found a way to deal with them.
Even if it meant putting others first.
Which was precisely what I intended to do myself. Starting right now.
First, I put my plan into motion by heading upstairs and changing out of my pajamas. Then I headed downstairs and stepped into the living room. There I saw Jason sitting there on the couch, watching television. As always, he was dressed casually. In jeans and a T-shirt.
“Hey,” I greeted him cheerfully. “You ready to go?”
“Sure am,” he said. “Let’s hit the road!”
We walked out of the front door. Then we crossed the street and continued walking until we arrived at a large building. It appeared to be an office complex of sorts. A place where businesses could rent space to conduct their affairs.
The parking lot was filled with cars. Most were parked along the sides. Others sat directly behind the buildings. All of which stood in neat rows. Each one surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges.
As we approached the entrance, two men wearing dark suits emerged from inside. They both carried briefcases. One of them stopped dead in his tracks. Stopped moving altogether. Stared straight ahead. At nothing in particular.
At me.
His partner noticed this immediately. So much so that he turned around and stared right back.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded.
He sounded annoyed. Frustrated. Like somebody who’d finally reached his breaking point.
“Nothing,” Jason answered.
“Yeah, sure,” the man snapped. “Whatever you say.”
With that, he started walking again. Stepping past us toward the exit. Meanwhile, his companion remained frozen in place. Just staring at me.
“Is something wrong?” I called after him.
“No,” he replied gruffly. “Everything’s fine.”
Then he followed his colleague out onto the sidewalk. Both of them disappeared down the street before I could get another word in edgewise.
“Come on,” Jason urged me. “Let’s just keep moving.”
So I did. We walked across the parking lot and entered the building itself. Inside, we passed several offices along our way. Some are occupied by employees working late. Others are vacant. Either empty or unoccupied.
Eventually, we made it to the elevator bank. Which was located directly beneath a sign reading:
THE OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT
In addition to the president’s name, the words “Office of the President” were also printed below. Below, too, was a small plaque bearing the seal of the United States.
Once inside the elevator, we rode it up to the top floor. Whereupon the doors opened and allowed us to step out into a hallway lined with closed doors. All of which bore signs indicating they belonged to members of Congress.
I didn’t bother looking any of those names over closely. Instead, I headed straight for the end of the hall. To the last door on the right. The one marked “Cabinet Room”.
The door was open. So I pushed it wide enough to enter. Once inside, I shut it behind me. Then I locked it tight.
That done, I turned around and faced the group standing against the far wall. Including the woman who’d asked me earlier about the vice presidential nominee.
She was seated beside the man who’d spoken to me before. Sitting very close to him. As though trying to hide away from view. From everyone else present.
But not from me. Because I was already staring right at her.
“Who are you?” I inquired.
Her eyes widened slightly. But then she quickly composed herself. Straightened out her posture. And spoke in a voice as calm and collected as ever.
“My name is Sarah Palin,” she told me. “Vice Presidential Nominee for the Republican Party. You may have heard of me.”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Of course, I’ve heard of you. Everyone has. Even people like me. People who don’t pay attention to politics. Or anything political for that matter.”
Sarah smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she said. “It means a great deal to hear someone say such nice things about me.”
“Well, thank you anyway,” I returned. “For coming all the way out here to see me.”
“Oh, no need to worry yourself,” she assured me. “This wasn’t a problem. Not really. After all, I had some free time today. The time I needed to fill. With something constructive. Something worthwhile. That being your case. Your situation. Whatever it might be.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” I pressed.
“Meaning,” she explained, “that I wanted to meet with you personally. In order to learn more about you. About how you feel. What do you think. How you’re feeling now. Right at this moment. During these difficult times.”
“You want to know if I’m okay?” I clarified.
“Exactly,” she confirmed. “If you’ll allow me to take a closer look at you, that is.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Go ahead.”
I stepped aside. Letting her pass. Into my living room. She moved swiftly through the doorway. Moving deeper into the room until she stood directly in front of me.
Just inches away.
We looked each other in the eye. For quite some time. Neither speaking. Nor doing anything but staring.
Until finally, Sarah broke the silence.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Like I’m dying,” I admitted.
“Do you believe that?” she wondered aloud. “Or are you simply saying that because that’s what everybody keeps telling you? Because that’s what everyone seems to assume must be true. Based solely upon your appearance.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
“Don’t you understand?” she insisted. “Your life isn’t over yet. It hasn’t even begun. There’s still so much left to live for. So many ways you can make a difference. If only you would let yourself try.”
“Why should I trust you?” I challenged.
“Because I care,” she answered. “About you. More than anyone else alive does right now.”
“Where did you come from?” I asked.
“From Alaska,” she replied. “A place where the air is clean. A land of beauty and wonder. No matter how dark and bleak everything outside might appear. Here, there’s always hope. Always sunshine. And never rain. Never snow. Just endless blue skies and white clouds floating lazily overhead.”
“Sounds lovely,” I sighed.
“It is,” she affirmed. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened to you? Why aren’t you dead yet?”
“I got shot in the head,” I informed her. “By a madman named John Hinckley Jr.”
“Hinckley?” she gasped. “John Hinckley? Are you serious?”
“He tried to kill President Ronald Reagan,” I clarified. “So he could impress Jodie Foster. He failed miserably. Now he’s serving out his sentence in a federal prison in Colorado. Which is good news for me.”
“Is it?” she questioned.
“No,” I shook my head sadly. “Not really. Because I’m stuck here on Earth. Trapped in a body that won’t function properly anymore. Unable to move or speak without assistance. My mind is intact. But my brain functions slowly. At best. The doctors can’t explain it. They just keep telling me that my condition will probably get worse. Before it gets better.”
“Are they wrong?” she wondered aloud. “Couldn’t you prove them wrong by showing us all that you’re perfectly capable of walking out those doors right now? Of leaving this house forever. Leaving behind everything that holds you back. Everything that makes you weak. Weak and helpless. Allowing you to embrace the future instead of cowering inside its shadow.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I declared. “But I’m not sure I can do it.”
“Why not?” she asked. “After all, you already proved that you were strong enough to survive getting shot in the head. Stronger than most people can imagine possible. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I also have to consider the possibility that I may never walk again. Or talk normally. Ever. Again. And if that happens, then what kind of life am I going to lead? Who will ever love me when I’m like this?”
“Who needs to fall in love with you?” she countered. “When you’ve already fallen in love with yourself?”
“I suppose you’re right,” I acknowledged. “At least, as far as loving myself goes. But I’m afraid that’s not enough. Not nearly enough. Because no one else loves me. Even though I desperately need someone who cares about me. Someone to help carry my burdens. To hold my hand while we face whatever challenges lie ahead. That’s something that I haven’t been able to find anywhere since I was first diagnosed.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t wait around for it,” Sarah suggested. “Instead, perhaps you ought to go out and start looking for him right now.”
“How?” I wondered.
“You know,” she explained. “The way you used to look for things before you had the accident. By asking questions. Trying to figure out where they might be hiding. What clues you missed along the way. How you could have done more to uncover their secrets. Those kinds of things.”
“And how do you suggest I begin?” I inquired.
“With a question,” she stated. “One simple question. One that has nothing at all to do with your physical limitations. Instead, it focuses entirely on your mental ones. Upon your ability to overcome obstacles. Your willingness to take risks. To explore new possibilities. In other words, it asks whether or not you truly believe that you deserve to be happy. Whether or not you think you’re worth fighting for.”
“Well, I guess I’ll give it a try,” I decided. “If that’s what you want.”
“Good,” she smiled. “Because I’m dying to hear the answer.”
The End