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"I'm ready. I’ll go."
There’s a slow intake of breath at the other end of the line. "You're sure?"
The hesitation is clear and I know why. I come from a long line of broken promises and unfulfilled expectations. But this time, it’s different. I'm going to do this. I won’t think anymore, I’ll just do. End of story.
"Yes, I’m sure.”
“Twenty minutes. This is right, Sam. You won’t be sorry."
I replace the receiver, pull on my boots and find my jacket, keys and cell phone. The dog, who thinks he knows what's going down, starts running in circles, claws beating a furious tattoo on the tiled floor. His eyes are bright as he stares at me, eager for our evening walk.
Not today, buddy.
I trudge down the hall, push open the door to the study and, not for the first time, I tell my kids a little white lie.
"I'm going out for a while, guys. Walking the dog. Tell mom I said goodbye." The words sail over the heads of my children, who are absorbed in some psychedelic cyber world. It's a reality they seem to prefer these days and suddenly, it annoys the shit out of me.
"Didn’t you hear me?" I raise my voice, then cringe at the irritation in my tone. God knows when I'll see them again, and I'm yelling at them?
Shame on me.
But they’re not bothered. Tom flips a distracted hand in my direction. Fourteen and already he's pushing the limits of civility. Katie executes a neat pirouette and ends up facing me. Her eyes are on fire.
"I totally cracked Level Three, Dad, but Tom is taking forever¾"
"Am not." Tom doesn't even turn his head, his hands flying over the keyboard
"Yes, you are." She spins back to the screen as yet another missile explodes in a cacophony of red and gold noise.
"I'm going now," I say. But there’s no response—they’re bent towards the screen, bodies tensed and expectant. A burst of colour surges across the scene and Tom's virtual self splinters into multi-hued shreds. He groans and slumps backwards in the chair.
"My turn, my turn." Katie shoves at him impatiently and I'm in despair. They have no idea what's about to happen, so how can I make a big deal out of this goodbye? I hesitate. Tom's face, all angles and acne, is tight with disappointment, so I step forward and pull him against me in a quick, hard hug. My son..
"Chill, Dad, its okay. I'll crack it next time." He grins wryly at me and pulls away, oblivious to the breaking of my heart.
"Sure you will." I let him go and step towards the door, steeling myself to leave. "Your mom will be home soon. Be good, guys. I¾I love you."
"Love ya too, Daddy." Katie sing-songs the way she always does but Tom is already slouching off towards the kitchen.
In the hall, the dog stares at me, head cocked to one side, tongue hanging out. I stare back at him. There's no air in here, and I feel as if I'm choking. The dog whines, as if to say 'one last walk for old times' sake?' To the field and back will only take ten minutes. And that way, my lie won’t actually be a lie …
I leave the house, locking the door behind me. The dog tears off towards the end of the road and I follow, breathing deeply. The air is cool and I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket, hearing the steady crunch of gravel beneath my boots. The sun is dying, sinking below the horizon and the earth lies dark beneath the rain-sodden weight of the clouds. I shiver, thankful for my heavy jacket, then step up the pace and soon I'm on the field. The dog is a distant blur, speeding across the darkening wasteland, barking joyously as night birds scatter before him.
I stop walking, lift my fingers to my lips and whistle. The dog, however, is a no-show. I walk faster, searching the shadows, almost glad that this is the last time I'll play 'hunt the dog' in the dark.
I wonder who’ll walk him when I'm gone? Sherri? At the thought of my wife, tides of guilt surge through me. Sherri’s a fine woman, and a good mother. But we married too soon, too young—no! Enough with the excuses! Just tell the truth, Sam.
Lilly liked to say that—just tell the truth, Sam. I pause as I hear the dog barking in the distance, and for a second, it's almost as if I can hear her voice again, those lazy, seductive tones that¾
Oh dear God, I mustn't start thinking about Lilly now.
But the memories won't stay buried. I'm lost, carried back to the moment a year ago when she sashayed into my lecture hall and, with her hip-rolling walk and sassy grin, tore my life apart. Ten years younger than me, high on dope and life, she exuded a dangerously hypnotic and totally irresistible appeal.
I groan, remembering the terrifying, heart-breaking weeks that followed, as I discovered what falling in love was all about. Flying high, and falling, falling, falling¾and then doing it all over again. My life became a roller-coaster of danger, desire and desperation. Without her, I was miserable. But with her, I soared, turning cartwheels across the top of the world. Life seemed full of light and risk and adventure. She took me to a world I'd never dreamt existed, and she taught me how to fly.
The dog barks again and I stop, rooted to the ground as pain rages through me. This is not how it should be. I'm angry now¾an irrational anger that chews at my gut. Where the hell is that mangy hound? The sun is gone, fallen below the horizon, and the dark presses close around me, squeezing me in its treacherous embrace.
A sudden explosion of paws and panting, and there's the dog, slathering dust and spit all over my boots. I grab his collar and snap on the leash, and he tugs and strains, desperate for one last adventure, one more wild flight to nowhere. I keep the leash short and my throat closes as I realize my desires are no different from his.
Through all those months of intoxicating highs and soul-destroying lows, I tried to keep them all in the dark. I spent less and less time at home. Sometimes I caught Sherri looking at me, saw the pain and confusion in her eyes. I used to look away, pretending everything was all right. We both ignored the shadows beneath my eyes, the trembling of my hands.
Oh, God, I think. Can I do this? Can I really just walk out on my family?
I clench my fists in my pockets, torn between unfulfilled need and unbearable shame. Get a grip, Sam! I have to believe I'm making the right choice. I stiffen my resolve and repeat my mantra of hope. I'm making the right choice. Leaving now is better than staying…..
We're back at the house now. I undo the leash and let the dog into the garden. Sherri will see to him when she gets home. I hear the deep rumble of an engine and lift my head in time to see an old Ford slide to a halt outside the gate.
Right on time.
I straighten up and suck air, trying to quell the sudden panic in my chest.
Good bye, house. Good bye, kids.
The door pops open and slip into the seat. I sit tight, staring straight ahead.
Good bye dog. Good bye life.
"You all right?"
“I will be. Let’s just go, OK?”
We accelerate down the road and for a minute, I think I'm going to die. Whatever comes next, my life will never be the same again. As if he can hear the silent screaming in my head, the man behind the wheel turns his gaze on me.
“You tell the kids?”
I shake my head, look out of the window. “Sherri will do it.”
I feel him staring at me and the sweat breaks out on my neck. My hands are shaking now. He laughs.
"It's going to be okay, Sam. You're going to make it." The unexpected compassion in his voice stabs me and I cover my eyes with my hand as we drive on through the dusk and into the night.
How can he know I'm going to make it? Lilly’s been gone a month already—walked out and left me with a broken heart and a monkey on my back. I’m a mess of grief, and need, and fear. How will I live? I've been drowning in a sea of darkness, doubt and despair—I groan, and wring my hands….
“Whoa, Sam. One thing at a time, one day at a time. Remember?” He spins the wheel and we turn into the grounds of Utopia Rehabilitation Centre—the answer to all my problems, apparently.
“Dumb name,” I say, distracted for a moment, and the man at my side chuckles. He’s done his own time here, wrestling with the demons, and he knows this is no paradise. “Did you know,” I tell him, “that in Greek, utopia also means ‘no place’? Outopia means nowhere. Sounds about right for me …”
"Uh-uh.” He shakes his head. “Not true, Sam. You’re not nowhere, buddy. You’re back at the beginning, right at the start of the rest of your life. You just have to take hold, to fight it.”
He sounds so sure. All I can do is hope that maybe, just maybe, time will prove him right.
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