Hangover

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It looked like a good day to die. Rain was dropping half heartedly out of a slate sky. The sea below was differentiated from it only by the light grey spume that broke away as the waves hit the rocks. Maybe I should have waited until dark. No one would disturb me then. But I considered the chances of someone taking a casual walk along the top of the cliff in the damp, cold twilight would be close to zero. The path was lined with railings at this point. Health and safety. That made me smile. There was a severe hangover along this stretch and, looking over the unkempt clumps of grass at the edge, I could see no sign of a vertical face until almost at the bottom. From here, once I’d taken the decision, there was no change of mind, no turning in mid flight like a cartoon to grab a bush or wispy branch.

 

I asked myself how I was feeling at this moment. There’s a favourite Coroner’s expression. I’d heard it many times. Someone ends it all and it’s presumed that they wouldn’t have done so unless ‘the balance of their mind was disturbed’. You can’t do it rationally, so they say. You want to cling on to life irrespective of the crap that life throws at you. Well they’re wrong. You can. I’d lost it all, my home, my job and all the love I ever needed. Swapped them for a pickled liver. I had a choice; whether to fight and, sometime in the vague future, get another home, another love, some money to feed myself or to simply accept that it just wasn’t worth the candle.

 

I’d been given a room from some charity or other while they rendered a collective unctuous smile because they’d saved another poor sod from the gutter, but it isn’t a home. I can get some comfort up against a wall if I had a tenner or might get a grope for free at one or two pubs I could think of but that’s not love. And money? I can steal that I suppose but I really can’t be arsed. No, it’s perfectly rational to decide that the way to free yourself of the mess is to end the experience.

 

I stepped through the railings and, holding on with one hand, leant over the edge. It was getting dark now and I could only just make out the swirling sea below. It wasn’t going to make much difference if I jumped forwards or backwards.

 

‘If you’re going to do it, can you do it now? I’m getting cold.’

 

I spun round to find the source of the voice, let go of the rail and fell backwards. As I began to drop I twisted my body and grabbed another bit of railing with my other hand. Without a grip on the damp grass, my toes tipped over the edge.

 

‘That surprised you didn’t it?’ I could just make out a man standing on the path about twenty feet away as it began its sweep inland. ‘You nearly fell off then. That would never do would it?’

‘Bugger off,’ I shouted.

‘I intend to, for good, if only you’d get out of the bloody way.’

 

I scrambled back on to the path ‘You’ve got a million miles of cliff edge. Do what you have to do somewhere else.’

 

‘There’s a fence here. It makes it easier to jump.’

‘Look,’ I said. ‘You don’t need a bloody fence. Just take a run and leave me in peace.’

‘I’ll jump wherever I like mate.’

 

The man got closer, hanging on to the railing like he was afraid of losing it. I could make out his face now. It was round and, although all the bits were in the right places, he struck me as featureless. He had lost almost all his hair, a bit like an anaemic beach ball.

 

‘Then for Chrissake do it.’

 

The man didn’t move, his hands still gripping the rail.

 

‘What! Suffer from vertigo?’ I laughed. ‘You should have found yourself a nice comfortable gas oven mate. I bet you’ve arranged a thick mattress at the bottom. Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself after all.’

‘So what stopped you then? You were on your way down. Ran out of bottle?’

 

I said nothing. A bloke intrudes on to my private space and then tries to make me feel like an arsehole. I’d come to a decision and hadn’t changed my mind. Falling off isn’t a decision. You’ve got no control over it and your reflexes immediately break into action whether you want them to or not. It was me, not him, who was going to decide when the end had arrived. I had controlled nothing in the last three years. This was my one final decision.

 

‘I don’t want to fall. I want to jump.’

‘Oh that makes a big difference once you’ve coloured the beach and spread yourself over the ocean.’

‘If you don’t piss off I’m going to throw you over myself.’

‘Go on then,’ he said. ‘Do you really think I give a shit?’

 

I could see he didn’t. But then he was twice the size of me. I’d never hoist him over the railing. And did I want to finish up killing somebody? But then again it didn’t matter either way. It could be my last interesting experience. I felt a sudden rush of freedom as I realized all the social norms and restrictions that I’d been vaguely obeying since I grew up were now irrelevant. I was hardly going to go down for murder when I’d already gone down the cliff.

 

It had stopped drizzling, the clouds had broken a little and the moon began to make shy, brief appearances. I could see the man was wearing nothing above his waist but an open neck shirt.  He must have noticed me looking.

 

‘I see you’ve got yourself a nice coat there’, he said. ‘You don’t mind being dead then as long as you’re not cold.’

‘Jesus, get the fuck over that cliff and leave me in peace. I’ll walk away, okay? Leave you to it.’

 

I walked back up the path for a few yards turned and stood silently. The man had bent his head downwards and his shoulders were heaving.

 

‘You’re not going to do it are you?’ I said.

‘Fucking cow,’ he said barely audibly through the night breeze.

‘They’re all the same mate. Dumped you did she?’

‘I thought I’d cracked it. Really thought I’d cracked it. Then she pisses off with some turd. No job, parked himself in her flat and she lets him stay. Found them in bed. Next time I went round all the bits I’d left there they’d dumped in a plastic bag by the door. They’d bolted it, otherwise I would have killed him. And her. She says he’s got a sense of humour. I showed him what a joke was next time I saw him. He’s in hospital now being put back together.’

 

The man didn’t move. Now neither of us were going to get the deed done at this rate. I thought I’d move on to some other spot. There were bound to be other convenient places. But then, to hell with it. This was my spot, my decision. The poor bastard was ruining my entire evening.

 

‘My case comes up next week,’ he said. ‘I won’t be going.’

 

He was still facing the sea. His story had poured out like an over rehearsed mantra. But what bothered me most was not what he was saying but the fact I was listening and feeling sorry for him. Even swapping insults means you care. It’s not supposed to be like this. When you decide its time to go you take yourself off, go somewhere private, wallow in your own misery. You don’t want an audience, specially one who thinks he’s worse off than you. I didn’t come here to compare notes. Nothing else matters except it’s the end. Because if something else matters it’s not the end any more.

 

‘You’re bloody freezing mate,’ I said. ‘There’s a pub about a mile away. If you’re not going to go, I’ll buy you a drink.’

 

He looked at me without blinking. There wasn’t much detail in the gloom but I could see there was no expression in his face. His eyes had sunk and his mouth had lost its shape.

 

‘Go on then,’ he said quietly.

 

I turned and walked slowly along the path. ‘Maybe there’s a way out. We can talk, yeah? Find a way out.’

 

I got no answer. I turned back but all I could see was the dull glint of railing as a weak shaft of moonlight struck the edge of the cliff. He’d found his moment of privacy and now he’d allowed me to have mine. Which meant, damn him, that it wasn’t really my moment at all. And now that drink felt like a good idea.