Edinburgh. 2005. He had walked in the narrow Scottish streets, alone. That very morning, he had suddenly begun his journey. Without any second thought. It was not his usual behaviour though. He, always so calm, so thoughtful, so stoical. What else could he have done? His bravery, his precious bravery had left him in the most critical moment. He had to pull himself together. To think. Yes, to think. To close himself to any emotion, any feeling and to think as a man. As a man. As a composed man. For once, he would have liked to be an animal, free of everything. Like this bird flying over the misty city and its pubs. No. He had to pull himself together. He had to think. He, so convinced of having a hand-reach great destiny. She, so beautiful, so natural and so sweet. She, whom he had not really had the time to know. And yet… Now, he was sitting here, facing the semblance of Romanian ruins that overhang the Scottish parliament. That sky. That sky, yet so grey, dazzled him. If only the night could fall to crush with its weight the horrible reality. If only it could enable him to face himself and restore his courage to brave the facts. For tonight, he will be an empty man. Without bravery. Without morality. A naked man. Sitting on the hill that overhangs the white building, he was waiting. The night. The calm. The emptiness.
Hours were flying by. He was not counting them. Waiting. Over and over. It was in the very beginning of the day that he had run away and had taken his car. On the highway, he had noticed the sign which indicated the exit to Edinburgh and had followed the stream of vehicles going into that direction. Maybe was it the time for him to go for a walk. After having found a parking lot, he had left without even bothering locking his nice car. The high technology of his new black Audi should have an automatic mechanism that would do it. He did not really care. She too ran away. She did not have the right to cut with such violence all the bonds that linked her to other human beings. He would have preferred to see her within the arms of another man than discovering her like he did. As he was walking, the wind tangled his hair and irritated his eyes. But it didn’t matter. At least would he find there a suitable excuse for the few tears falling down his cheeks.
His strolling had taken him until this odd white building. He had not been aware that he was already at the edge of the city, at the Scottish parliament. It was not until he had discovered the Queen’s castle, overcome by the modern building, that he had realized how far his steps had taken him. This vision. Again. This lifeless body. An incomprehension. She, yet so straight, had dared. Incomprehension. Disillusion. His restless wandering had resumed. He had then been walking between the parliament and the monarchy. Edinburgh’s no man’s land.
It was not until he had raised his eyes that he had noticed the small hill and lost himself in its contemplation. The diverse green colours that formed it deepened the greyness of the sky. It would surely rain soon. The grass and a few flowers accompanied the walker on his first yards of the climb, and the rocks and bushes overhanging the path were fine playgrounds for adventurous children. A small hill. He would be able to have a general view of the city from there. He had then begun to walk up the slope. Little by little. Lost in his thoughts, he had sometimes stumbled on the stones. From time to time, he had met tourists or families walking around. Nevertheless, the quest of loneliness is often obvious and, most of the time, only a very few people dare say more than a distant “Good morning”. He was subconsciously grateful to them not to speak. He had walked until the top of the hill and, there, had sat on a rock in order to stare passively to the misty city. Eternal questioning which brings to the world’s creation: why? At this moment, far from any philosophy, he wanted to find the reason of a simple and absurd act. Why did he find her there, lying in the middle of the bed, without any breath of life. Why on earth did she gave up!
The day was darkening quicker. The night would dress the invisible wounds. His look left in the maze of the edinburghian streets, he tried to think. She was his mistress for many years before she met her husband. They remained on good terms, avoiding any tempting meeting. She was faithful. He was honest. The husband seemed to take care of her. This was the reason why he had not understood. Why did her husband call him, he, when she had had intimacies with a few other men. Why did her husband call him, he, to tell him to come to their house for an emergency. Why did he have to help him to carry this flabby body, lifeless body, and yet so much loved. Her soul, the very essence of who she was, had vanished, dissolved in the room, and returned to a place of peace. At least, this was his hope. “God rest her soul” had he said once he had come to his senses. A prepared sentence, suitable to any similar occasion, when words fail to express oneself. In spite of the strangeness of the situation, he had assisted and supported the husband. A man of honour. Yes. And a man of great heart. It was only once he had come out of the house, at the very beginning of the day, that he had felt that peculiar nausea, this perfume of bitterness, disgust and incomprehension. It was only once he had come out of the house, at the very beginning of the day, that he had taken his car and had immersed himself in the vivid waves of the traffic to run away. Yes, he, he had run away. He would not attend the funeral. He would not be a support for anyone. Twenty-eight years old, a launched career, a strong training, a strict education and sincere love stories had made him become a fruitful man, strict and straight, but also kind and indulgent to others. But this very day, he did not dare lending his shoulder, too afraid that it would break down; no one would see his tears at the funeral; no one would ask why this dark haired and blue eyed stranger took part in the rituals. No. They alone had to come to terms with the malediction of the making her miserable, her, so sweet, so warm, and now so cold.
She had called him the day before and they had talked for hours. About this and that. But also about her career. She had suffered the consequences of the financial crisis. The company where she worked dismissed her. Overnight, she had been sent from a vivid and active world to the world of a housewife. She loved her husband, but yet was an active, attractive and ambitious woman. She was looking for a job. Despite her skills and many qualities, however, he could only offer her a secretary job for the nonce. She had accepted. Once she had been integrated in the company, she could have gotten accelerated promotions. But then why now? Why did she decide to end her days when she just found a job, when her family supported her and when she was loved and admired by men as well as by women. The mystery remained unsolved. The city had just lightened up. While a breeze caressed his face, he could admire the lights of homes and pubs of Edinburgh. The streetlights seemed to be headlights for the walkers lost in the fog. The Scottish world was soothing for the night. He could only feel a wide emptiness now.
A noise. Steps. A heavy breathing. Who could disturb the peace he just found after those two days of disappointment and incomprehension? Besides, who would go for a walk at this time, here, in the Scottish drizzle falling on the appeased city? He caught hold of a stick a walker must have abandoned here before starting the downhill to the civilisation, and waited. The steps got closer to him. His hands inconspicuously tightened on the piece of wood. He was still waiting when this dark tall and frail form appeared at the bend. A stray dog! He put the stick down next to him and plunged himself back in his thoughts, now distracted by the heavy breathing of the animal. His gaze lost in the contemplation of the city’s nightlife, he tried to focus his thoughts on the event of the day before. He had not understood and would never understand. All of a sudden, he felt a weight on his knees and, looking down, he realized that the animal had settled at his side, the head on his knees and the look lost in the horizon. Silent fellow of pain. The night had now plunged the city in a deep lethargy. Only a few streetlights and lanterns were still illuminating the Scottish fog with halos of lights. If the pain caused by the loss of a loved one would remain for years, the emotional shock of the body’s discovery was fading thanks to the calm, the serenity and the unreality of the landscape that he was contemplating. The heavy breathing had subsided. He looked down to the wild animal sleeping on his knees. The latter had an aristocratic attitude. Maybe was he not wild. But if so, what was he doing here, alone, roaming the hill? Maybe was he too looking for answers to canine questions or emotions. How would he know? He never was an expert in the field of domestic animals. Putting his hand on the animal’s hairy head, he said: “You too, goodnight M. Bassington”. Yes, Bassington was a perfect name for a fellow, a canine fellow, but yet having the manners of a lost aristocrat.
And so they tamed each other for a night, before his coming back to Ayr in the early morning, appeased and composed.
Châtillon
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