Pain

The empty streets with their echoing footsteps and empty houses quickly became an immense part of the cloudy sky where a single bird was flying. It was a pigeon. And that pigeon was slowly lowering its body down toward a lonely building with large windows. Along with the graceful wings the foliage carried news from the wind.

It was a lonely landscape with a few empty benches and many lampposts. Everywhere there was the smell of rain. And somewhere in the distance could be heard the sound of people's voices. But those voices were more like the voices of ghosts that did not want to leave this city. The whole world was spinning, but here everything was waiting for something, maybe someone. It was only when a pigeon landed on one of the branches that the windows in the brick house opened and the sounds of wailing followed. The tall skyscrapers absorbed the crying, memorizing every sound, every note forever. And the hysteria that was in everyone's hearts filled the narrow streets, roads and alleys at once. And the only one who was calm was that pigeon who was watching the elderly woman in the black dress. As she cried frantically, clutching the little boy's hand, the whole city awoke, opening the way to the sunlight, which tried to soothe the terrible sorrow. The arms of death desperately embraced everyone, wanting to say words of condolence, but no one could hear that quiet cry. It was only when there was a knock at the door, too loud, too nervous, that Arthur raised his head and wiped the remnants of tears from his face and opened the door. Adelard, in his black cloak and black hat, stood with his head down. He stood silent and there was no one around him to offer support. He had an umbrella and a suitcase in his hands. Trembling with misery, he had already managed to cover his grief with dust and while Arthur looked at him, unable to say anything, he whispered, "Arthur." A long embrace followed, which drew the disgruntled stares of the people passing by. But they didn't care. They squeezed each other, thereby trying to find all the memories of Susanne in that embrace.

"Come in," Arthur whispered, grabbing his suitcase.

"Monsieur Adelard, I am so sorry. Suzanne was a good friend of yours. She always told me about you. In fact, you were all she ever talked about. I'm so sorry," said the man, squeezing Adelard's icy hand tightly.

But he could not say anything. The tears were choking him too much.

"Monsieur, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is James. You must have heard of me. How sorry I am. Suzanne was a good friend to all of us," said the young fellow, who didn't look like he was sad. His lively eyes ran all over Adelard.

"My condolences, Monsieur," said the older woman, continuing to hold the hand of the little boy, who looked at Adelard in wonder.

Other words followed, other tears and voices too. But Adelard could say nothing. He just kept quiet, and when he finally made a circle around the living room and heard enough words, he found Arthur and whispered, "I'm late. I couldn't even see her."

"She wouldn't want you to see her."

"How did that happen?"

"Come," Arthur said and led him into a room where there was only a grand piano. Only now did Adelard lift his head and look into Arthur's face. And when he looked, he saw a tired man who may never be able to forget this pain. From his face, Adelard cried. He couldn't stand it and just contorted the muscles of his face.

"Come here," Arthur said. With each tear, he pressed him against him even more and so, until Adelard asked, "How did that happen?"

"Quickly. She felt no pain."

"I didn't know she had a heart condition."

"Yes. She hid it well."

"Why didn't she tell me? I wouldn't have let her die. I wouldn't have let her!"

"Calm down. Adelard, you need to rest. You have a fever! Come."

Unable to stand on his feet, Adelard covered his face with his hand and the pain stopped in his heart. And with every step forward, through this house where Susanne walked, he felt her presence. This illusion only made him feel worse. "Arthur, I don't feel well," he said and clutching his jacket, he just fell down. Panic, sadness, pain, hopelessness, and fear overwhelmed him. There was no longer that Adelard with positive thoughts. There was only Adelard who had always lived in the shadows. The one who was aware of the whole meaning of reality.

"Get up. Adelard!"

But he didn't care. He just clutched his knees and cried without any sound. And on his back he felt Suzanne's light hand and her voice saying, "Don't be sad. I'm right here."

"Adelard, get up." He didn't care that Arthur had helped him up and now, he was walking up the stairs. He didn't care about the people who were touching his back, his hand. And at this very moment, he didn't care that some people were taking advantage of the situation and trying to hug him in a different way than his friends were hugging him.

"Stop it! What's the matter with you?"

"That's Adelard Mars, isn't it? That's him, isn't it?"

"Yes. That's him!"

"How handsome he is. Susanne was lucky."

"What are you talking about?" Adelard was able to ask the question. "Don't you dare talk about her like that! She was my very best friend. Our friendship was the purest."

Everyone looked at his tear-stained face in silence. Standing on the stairs, everyone suddenly remembered their grief and respect for the departed. And in that very moment of silence, Adelard pushed away Arthur's hand and simply walked on. His path ended in front of the room, where he found a secluded spot by the window. He cried in a way he had never cried in front of anyone. Namely, without tears. The cold rain, taking away all the tears stretched toward the ocean that watched over the city. The ocean was always aware of everything. And sometimes, the waves were telling people advice, but of all the people who could hear this advice was Adelard. Turning on the desk lamp, he opened his eyes and suddenly felt a kind of warmth in his soul. Perhaps it was Suzanne, her last wish. It made him feel light and he just looked toward the tree. From the other side of the window he could feel the gaze. The smile on his face showed every shade of sadness. And as the waves reached his hearing, he whispered, "Suzanne, I haven't even proved to you how much I love you." It was a love that would last for centuries. For in that love there was no desire to possess. It was a love this world will never forget. And with every heartbeat, the whole world remembered their friendship. The way a writer remembers his thoughts before he begins to write a new book. Adelard loved with all his heart, cried with all his soul, saddened beyond belief. All because he was too alive for this world. And perhaps for that, he was paying the price. In an empty room, on the second floor of the house, he whispered her name and said, "I didn't even live the way you wanted me to." He kept saying this until Arthur walked into the room. His footsteps were as quiet as the light leaves of trees. And when he touched his shoulder, Adelard flinched slightly and turned his head sharply, as if hoping to see Susanne.

"Calm down," Arthur said, holding out a glass of water to him.

"What time is it?"

"Everybody's already gone."

"You were waiting for me?"

"Yes. But I wanted to be here as long as possible."

"I'm so scared," Adelard said, taking a sip of the cool water that made his stomach feel faintly sick with hunger. His body shook with cold and fear. His palms were sweaty and his face burned as if he had a fever.

"I'm scared, too. Death is always scary."

"That time she came to see me, that was the last time we met."

"Adelard, get up. Let's go. You haven't eaten anything. Are you sick?"

"I may be dying."

"What? What are you talking about? Come on."

"Did you see it happen?"

"What?"

"How she died?"

Arthur sat down beside him and sighed heavily. His eyes were downcast. His eyelids were heavy, as if memory were pressing on them. But out of his mouth sounded, "Yes. I was there."

"If I'd been around, I wouldn't have given her to anyone."

"Adelard, she had a problem with her heart."

"If I had gone with her then, maybe all this wouldn't have happened."