“The doctor said rest was essential to my cure,” he said drowsily, his wandering eyes offering me a brief glance before they were again pulled away by the dazzling vista below. It was next to impossible for a gaze not to be drawn down into that distant valley, not to sit in eternal wonder at its beauty. I kept my back to it, fighting for my sanity.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wouldn’t have come but I’ve hit a dead end everywhere else. Dead end,” I mused. “You’re my last hope.”
He wasn’t listening. His eyes were lost. He sat in his little lawn chair, an untouched tea at his arm. He sat and he stared, hardly knowing I was there.
One of the faceless nurses came by and spoke. “I’m afraid he’s still getting over the shock,” she told me. “It can be that way sometimes,” she said, taking the tea away and replacing it with a new cup.
I nodded, and kneeling beside my old friend, I touched his arm. His grey eyes met mine once more, and I asked, “What should I do?”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly.
“How can I stop him? You said you knew. You stopped him once yourself.”
“I fought him,” he mumbled. “Pushed him back . . . always coming back.”
“Yes, he’s coming back. How do I fight him?”
I stared into his eyes, and they looked so empty, like he wasn’t there anymore. But there was a whisper, “You just fight him. You do your best. One day he’ll win. Don’t let it be your day.” Then his eyes wandered back toward the strange vista. “The doctor said rest was essential for my cure,” he mumbled, his hand reaching for the tea.
Tale Told 