Tranquility

Third Call

I guess there's some that's born lucky, there's some that's not
I tried to cut away my bitterness,
hatchet job

He calls two weeks later.
I'm relieved to hear his voice.
I worked the dayshift the week prior.
He's a late night talker.

"Suicide Hotline, Harry speaking."

"Hi, Harry."

"Hi!"
Still way too excited.

He let's out a humourless laugh.
"You sound happy to hear from me. Kind of weird, you know what I mean?"

"I'm happy you're still alive."

"That makes one of us at least."
He says dryly.

"I'm sure that's not true. You said in our last call that you have people who care about you."

"Trying to guilt trip me?"
He sounds angry.

"No."
I hurry to say.

"I'm not stupid, Harry. Why do you think I haven't jumped yet? Me family has been through enough as it is. Trust me, I feel guilty enough."

"I don't think you're stupid. Wanna talk about your family?"

Silence. I can hear him breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Smoking.
"Let's just say that some are born lucky and some are not."

He sounds bitter.
"You're not one of them?"

"Depends who you're asking."

"Well, I'm asking you."

Silence again.
I just wait.

"Me mum died."

That sentence hold so much pain and grief. I get a lump in my throat.
"I'm so, so sorry for your loss."

"Thanks." He says emotionless.

"Was it sudden?"

"No and yes. It's always fucking sudden because there's no way you can prepare yourself for it, you know what I mean?"

"Yes. I lost my stepdad to cancer."

"I'm sorry. Me mum too."

"Oh. You know there's grief counselling, right?"

"Yeah, tried it. If I hadn't been so fucking lost in me own grief I might have caught me sister struggling even worse. Don't get me wrong, me mum was everything to me. I'm a mamas boy and her death absolutely broke me, but it broke me sister too and I wasn't there. She died a year after me mum. Overdose. I will never forgive meself for that. Never." His voice is full of bitterness and self-hate.

Oh God. I struggle to find the right words. Panic. Breathe through my nose.
"I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't help, does it? Funny thing, whenever someone is going through a fucking trauma most people doesn't know how to handle it. They react like you just did and then they pull away because it's too much. A time of crisis really show that years of friendship doesn't mean shit." He spits out.

"It can be overwhelming for sure. I think it's the feeling of helplessness and watching someone you love in pain that makes people do that. I mean, seeing my mum hurting when we lost my stepdad was horrible and I couldn't do anything to make her feel better. She had to deal with her grief."

"I get that, but you were there for her, right? Sometimes that's all it takes. Show up. Hug. Listen."

"I did my best to support her while I was grieving myself and I'm sure you did the same for your sister."

"I tried. I missed the signs that she was using. Too busy with meself."

"You lost your mum and it sounds like you two were close?"

"Really close."

"Do you have family left? Your dad?"

"Is a dead beat fucker. I don't talk to him. I have more siblings. They're the only reason I'm still here. The water seems nice though."

Chills again.
"Do you go to that bridge every night?"

"Almost every night. I can't sleep."

"Have you tried to talk to your siblings about how you feel?"

"No, they have enough to deal with."

"You should talk to someone."

"I'm talking to you."
Inhale. Exhale. He lit another cigarette.

"And that's great, but I want you to seek professional help as well."

"We don't always get that we want, Harry."
Irony again.

Silence.

"Thanks for talking me call, Harry. I'm gonna go."

"Call whenever you need to."

"Yeah... I'm Louis, by the way. Bye, Harry."

"Bye, Louis."