Our Song : Track 10

The Musical Interludes of a Last Chance Romantic

The King Must Die - Track 10 of 11
 
Caesar’s had your troubles
Widows had to cry,
While mercenaries in cloisters sing
And the King must die.
 
Inside the tree, the corridor was dark and empty. The pictures that had once lined the walls had now gone, and all there was to see, was a small light at the end of the tunnel. The sound of a piano playing and singing seemed to emanate from beyond the light.
Reggie made his way to the doorway, and very gently pushed open the heavy wooden door, but this time he found himself back in his own lounge. The piano stood where it had always done, against the wall at the front of the room, and sat on the stool in front of it was Bernie. Only now, the music had stopped and replaced with a monotonous pounding of a single note. Dressed in a white suit and black tie, Bernie was looking down over the keyboard and repeatedly pressing the same note over and over again. 
“You might want to play something different, I’ve heard this song already.” Reggie announced as he walked into the room.
Bernie turned, as if expecting Reggie and gave a laugh. “I knew the time would come when we would have this chat.”
“You did?”
“Of course, I’ve been thinking it over in my head for the last five years. Only I never knew when exactly it would take place. Until now.”
“So you know my Anniversary gift was a success, that the song was a success?”
“Of course.”
“And why I came here?”
“For the final piece of the puzzle. Or in this case, the final lap of the race.”
“I wouldn’t call it a race.” Reggie now reached where Bernie sat, and ushering him across sat down beside his old friend, “A race would suggest that time was more than just a state of mind, and as we both know, it isn’t. Not here.”
“True, but it is a companion. And with time as our constant companion, we are always involved in a race, even if time is the only other competitor.”
Reggie looked at his friend solemnly. “In that case, this must be where we arrive on the home stretch.”
“You understand why we’re here then?”
“You’re dead.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been dead for years.”
“Yes. Five years to be exact.”
Reggie paused as if to allow himself time to take in the responses. Of course he knew that the answers would be returned in the affirmative, and yet still it hit him by surprise as the words left his lips.
“And yet you linger, why?” Bernie asked.
Reggie rubbed his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. “How come I’ve gone all this time without knowing?”
“It really isn’t that simple.”
“My best friend since I was a child dies, and I act as if he’s here with me, taking me on mystical journeys and the like? Sounds like the mind of a lunatic.”
“And yet you’re no lunatic.”
“Really? So how do you account for all of this?”
“I’m going to take you on a journey, the last one we will ever take together. I won’t lie to you, there will be moments that you will find difficult to accept, even painful. But I’m afraid it is time for you to finally know the truth, so that you might just get an answer to that question.” Bernie rose to his feet. “Just close your eyes and believe in me, one final time.”
“We’re not going up any more hills are we?”
“You have my word.” Bernie smiled and Reggie obliged.
Against his better judgement, Reggie did as he was told. His eyes closed and he felt the air around him become heavy.
“Am I dead?”
“Of course not.”
“But you did say this is the end of the race. Who’s race?”
“My friend, metaphorically speaking, we are constantly competing in a series of races. As an old regime concludes, so a new one begins. That is not to say that someone must die at the end of each one, but rather their part within a certain story. But of course, as we all know, whatever happens, the show must always go on.”
“Is this all a hallucination?”
“If you want it to be.”
“What if I don’t want it at all.”
“Then we can stop it at once. But we both know deep down that you are ready to discover the truth. Whether you think you want to or not.”
“Where are we then?” Reggie looked around himself, but it all looked the same, as if they hadn’t actually travelled anywhere. But something felt different, as if the air had been in some way polluted with a thick invisible smoke. To see through his own eyes, everything seemed clear, in fact clearer than usual, but there was that feeling that Reggie could not deny.
“Watch.”
All of a sudden Valerie was in the room with them. Only she wasn’t really there, or was it rather that she was and Reggie and Bernie weren’t really there? The former would be the more rational explanation, but if the two of them could see her, then it would be less likely for them both to experience the same illusion, that would mean the latter being a more likely scenario.
What was clear to Reggie was that they certainly weren’t all present together in the same space and time. Although that would have been the more acceptable explanation of events, somehow he knew this wasn’t the case.
Whatever the scenario, there she was as real as the furniture all around them; and almost independently to her, but just as real stood Reggie and Bernie. All together in one room, and yet at the same time, so far apart. Reggie watched as his wife stood looking out the window, with the phone to her ear.
Someone on the other end answered, and she began speaking, “Hello, it’s me.”
“Nah, he’s in bed.”
Valerie gave a giggle, like a school girl, “Stop it, he’ll be down soon.”
Reggie couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but just witnessing Valerie’s reactions was enough to tear him apart. Like a scrap piece of paper being thrashed about by the sharp talons of a house cat. He recognised that tone, and knowing full well that it wasn’t himself that was the recipient of this flirtatious greeting was like the falling of the first snow ball in what was soon to be an avalanche of emotion.
“I’ll be there soon, I’ll tell him I’m off to see Sonia, her mum’s been ill for longer than I can remember.”
There was a pause.
“You know Reg, he doesn’t ask things like that.”
“I hate lying to him, but what else can I do?”
She paused again for a bit as the other person spoke, and then responded.
“I’ll have to give her a call.”
“And then she turns up here out of the blue. That’s a hard one to explain.”
Again she paused. “I know it’s unlikely, but it could happen. Or he could call her looking for me. Either way, I’ve got to let her know first.”
Reggie would never have believed it unless he heard it first hand, but the extent of his wife’s deceit cut deep. The girl he had loved and trusted all these years, for her honesty and devotion, and now it was apparent she was being unfaithful.
But who is she talking to? Who is the bastard? I’ll kill him.
You might be a bit late for that.
They continued to listen as Valerie laughed again at whatever was being said to her by the mystery man. “You know I will, but it has to be the right time.”
“I wish we could leave, just like that. You and I, get a new start away from it all. But its just not that easy.”
Suddenly her voice was deeply serious, scarily so. Reggie had never realised just how close she had been to leaving him. His initial rage now turned to shame. This wasn’t just a case of Valerie messing around and having fun behind his back, but something much more. Was she really that unhappy? Why had she never told him?
“Why don’t we? You know, just go.”
“Why not? Give me one good reason.”
“Of course I love him, but it’s nothing like we’ve got, like we’ve always had.”
There was another long pause, but Reggie didn’t need to hear what was being said, he could tell from the expression on Valerie’s face that it was in contradiction to the marriage vows he and Valerie had sworn by thirty years ago.
After a lengthy silence, a smile appeared across Valerie’s face, and she began to twirl a couple of strands of hair around her index finger. “We’ve still got the future. And we can make the most of that.”
Valerie gave another schoolgirl giggle. “I can’t believe you just said that, you are so naughty, shhh… he’ll be down any moment.”
He recognised that voice, it had been a number of years since he had heard it, but the tone was unmistakeable. Full of joy and mischief.
There was a noise from above, it sounded like footsteps making their way down the stairs. And instantly, Reggie knew where he was, and more importantly when. He would see himself appear at the door in the next few seconds and on seeing his arrival, Valerie would hang up the phone claiming it was Sonia.
It had been so natural, the manner in which she had lied, that Reggie began to wonder how often she had done so. Sonia had been a constant stress on their relationship, constantly demanding of Valerie’s support over the past few years, but thinking back, Reggie began to realise that he had never actually spoken to her.
Had the whole thing been a lie?
Valerie laughed again, “Bernard.” She whispered in mock protest.
Before he had time to register what had been said, Reggie witnessed the door swing open, and his own head appear from behind it. Valerie remained with one hand holding her mobile phone against her right ear, and the other twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger.
Reggie had originally arrived too late to hear her announce the name of her lover, or had he? He was certainly within ear shot of the call. Maybe he had heard, maybe after all those years he had known, but shut out the memory in protection of his marriage and friendship. After all, this phone call could not have taken place much before Bernie’s passing. Therefore it was entirely possible that with the death of Bernie, Reggie’s marriage had been inadvertently saved, and therefore the retention of such information would only be detrimental in the recovery of their shattered relationship.
It took the discovery of an affair for me to realise how much I love my wife, and do something to show how much I care?
“Who’s on the phone?” Reggie asked, Valerie seemingly unaware of his presence until he spoke. And then she turned around to face him, her eyes wide open as if she had seen a ghost. Clearly the sound he had heard hadn’t been a giggle, but more of a whimper.
“I gotta go, bye.” It was short and sweet, but without taking her eyes off Reggie she lowered the phone from her ear and placed it into her pocket.
And in an instant the images before them disappeared, and Reggie found himself left alone in the room looking directly at Bernie, completely void of emotion.
“You?”
“Yes me.”
“And Valerie?”
“Yes.”
“How did I not see it coming?”
Bernie didn’t need to answer that question, it had all become obvious as he hung his head in shame.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know, a number of years. But understand, I loved her for so much longer. Longer than you even.”
This statement should have enraged Reggie, but he remained in a numb bubble.
“How long? How much longer did you love her?”
“Ever since I met her. I just never had the confidence to do anything about it. And then you moved in with your motorbike and don’t give a damn attitude, and I knew I’d missed my chance.”
They were in the pub when Reggie had met Valerie, introduced to him by Bernie of all people. What had they been talking about when he first met his future wife, when Bernie and Valerie had been walking across the pub towards him? At the time he had no idea that his best friend had any sort of romantic intention on the girl.
“You tried to warn me off because she already had a boyfriend.”
“No, I tried to warn you off because I knew what would happen if you set your mind on her.”
The way Bernie had looked at Val, was all so clear with hindsight. How had he never noticed that before? He was clearly smitten, as Reggie did his best to impress her; Bernie stood apart from the couple and watched with a puppy like awe. The pain was clearly evident across his face, but Reggie had never looked across to see it, so obsessed with his own desire for seduction.
“And you never said anything?”
“When could I have? Would you have listened even if I had?”
Once again, Reggie found himself alone with Bernie in a room full of memories like photographs across a mantle piece.
“You loved her then?”
“Always did.”
“You loved her? My wife? Weren’t we best friends?”
“I can’t help what happened, I always loved her. I tried to be the gentleman, bide my time, and you took her away from under my nose. What could I do?”
“You mean you did this just to steal her back?”
“Of course not, stop making this all about you.”
“You stole my wife!” Reggie snapped, raising his voice as the anger he should have felt much earlier finally revealed itself.
“By the time I was seeing her, she was no longer yours to steal. Admit it, you’d lost her long before anything happened between us.”
“That’s hard to say as you’ve refused to tell me exactly when you began seeing her.”
There was no response with regards this particular enquiry, clearly he was still unwilling to provide the full extent of his betrayal. But instead, Bernie expertly manoeuvred the conversation to one which would view him in a better light. “Do you know how hard it was for me to see you with her? Like a knife plunging into my heart every time. How was I to know it would last? None of your relationships ever lasted. Within a matter of days you would have grown tired of her and I would be able to tell her how I felt. But it never happened, and I was left with nothing but regret for my inaction.”
Bernie continued, “I promised myself I would never make that mistake again. And then it happened, I noticed from the way she spoke that she wasn’t happy; and she told me everything, how she felt that you were drifting apart, and how she wanted to be loved and appreciated. That she felt, with the kids all grown up, she wanted something for herself again.”
“Something for herself? Why couldn’t I offer that to her? Why did it have to be you? If she’d have told me I could have changed.”
 “You? Change? Let’s not kid ourselves, you are who you are, and nothing she would have said would change that. I suppose at the beginning that’s what she loved about you. But things change and what we want from in life changes.
“Changes? What changes that we couldn’t make together?”
“How could you, when you had grown so far apart?”
“And that was my fault?”
“I don’t think she ever truly forgave you for all your indiscretions.”
“My indiscretions?”
“Of course, you thought she didn’t know about your affairs? And it wasn’t just once was it Reggie? And she knew about all of them. She just didn’t say anything.”
“Say what you want, we were doing just fine! We are doing just fine, now you’re no longer around to interfere.”
Bernie shook his head. “If you truly believe that, then you really could not have loved her at all my friend. Could you not see just how unhappy she was? How she made so many excuses to be away from the house? When did you truly show her the affection she deserved as your wife?”
Reggie wanted to respond with a tirade of abuse, but something seemed to hold him back. The last week had taught him how much he had loved his wife, but on that journey he had also come to realise just how much he had failed to communicate that to her. He had certainly taken her for granted over the course of their marriage, in a way he was truly ashamed of, and as much as he wished to tear his best friend apart limb from limb, he found himself being restrained by an inner force. The reason for his romantic gesture on their Anniversary. It wasn’t the relevance of the occasion that had convinced him, but the realisation of his failures as a husband.
“It’s the truth.”
“What is?”
“The thing holding you back from attacking me. However much you might want to fight it, we both know the truth of the situation, even if it has taken this long for us to reach it.”
“So, where are we now? How did we get here?”
“That my friend is the final part to the story.”
“Don’t.” He turned his head to Bernie, “Use that word to me again. Whatever I am, whatever I may have been as a husband. I am no friend to you. Not now.”
Once again, the two men were transported to an entirely identical place to where they had been stood moments earlier. It remained dark outside. But much like before, it wasn’t the same place, it may have looked the same.
This isn’t real, it can’t be.
How can you tell?
It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.
And that makes it any less real?
It makes it highly unlikely, verging on inconceivable.
And yet here we are. Just as real as we were when we first met.
Who is to say what is real anymore?
Is it important which is which?
It used to matter. Now, I’m not so sure it makes any difference.
But still you wonder.
If I don’t have a steady platform on which to stand, how am I to navigate my course successfully?
And that comes from reality?
That comes from the truth.
The two things are often interchangeable, but not necessarily the same.
And so I rephrase my earlier statement. This isn’t true, it can’t be.
You know this because?
Because I don’t want it to be. Because to accept such notions would destroy me.
But does that make it any less true?
If I don’t want it to be.
Then you will live forever in your head.
And what do you suggest?
Forget about making sense of it all. Because until you are willing to see the truth for what it is, you’ll never believe. Live in the world, not your head.
There were two suit cases packed and resting by the lounge door, along with an additional couple of holdalls and jackets draped over them.
Whose are they?
Wait and see.
The doorbell rang, and this was followed by the pounding of footsteps running down the stairs. Reggie found his legs beginning to move, much like his usual mode of movement, his mind desired to journey to a location and in circulating the message through the correct circuitry, engaged the necessary limbs to a forward momentum. Only this time, it felt more like floating, as he drifted across the lounge towards the hallway.
He could feel the soft carpet on his bare feet, but his legs seemed to move without the aching or discomfort that had usually accompanied such activities. As if all of his joints had been well oiled, Reggie found himself in the hallway, where he was met by Valerie running down the steps to the front door.
Valerie reached forward and opened the door, but there was nobody there. The next moment, Reggie was outside, the moon was glowing in amongst the stars in the night sky, and Valerie was pacing down the footpath carrying her two holdalls towards a car that was waiting.
Reggie recognised the car instantly, even in the poor light, he knew from the shape of the chasse, the man behind the shadowy figure. There was a painful realisation of events unfolding that caused Reggie’s heart to race with panic.
So this is the end? Valerie leaves me to be with you?
We never meant it to happen this way.
But it’s true. All of this really did happen?
All of it.
Bernie nodded, then glanced ahead as the sickening thud of a car door slamming shut from behind them caused Reggie to lurch forwards. They were sat, side by side in the rear of Bernie’s car, the engine was revving with an alternative Bernie sat behind the steering wheel.
In the next moment, the front passenger door opened and Valerie leapt into the car, swinging the door shut behind her. The car began moving, without a word exchanged between the two lovers in the front, not even a look of recognition. Perhaps neither wished to acknowledge what was happening until they were far enough away from the crime scene to be able to disguise the sensations of guilt.
The trees and hedges flew past the window in a blur as Bernie’s Ford Mondeo sped up the hill, hastily racing up the gear box. The engine was screaming, as the tonne weight attached to Bernie’s right foot seemed to force the accelerator through the floor.
This is the final part Reggie. Hold your breath. And get ready to jump.
Bernie was no longer beside him, but Reggie now found himself sat in the driver’s seat, his friend’s voice ringing in his head. He looked ahead, and something appeared through the windscreen, like a person stood in the middle of the road as the car went hurtling towards him.
Now!
The sudden screeching of rubber against tarmac was deafening, the entire landscape around began to spin as Reggie threw himself into the air, forcing his way against the momentum of the car. There was a loud crash, and a flash of light.
Reggie looked up from where he lay on the ground, blood dripping from his forehead. Two concurrent skid lines marked the path across the tarmac of the road towards the pavement, through the small conifer hedge and leading across the grass field.
There in front of him, the oak tree that had encapsulated so much of his mind, now stood ablaze, lighting the entire road like a beacon. Smoke rising up and blanketing the sky, Reggie watched the final moments of his marriage, alone.
“That’s the truth Reggie. If you’re ready to accept it.”
The two of them sat on the dry grass, the moon once again shining in the night sky, leaning against the remaining stump in the ground that had once held aloft a mighty oak tree in the centre of an open grass field.
“When did all of this happen?”
“Five years ago Reggie.”
“Five years?! Why didn’t you tell me she’s been dead for five years. Why did you leave me believing?”
“I did tell you. I have been telling you, for five years I’ve been telling you non-stop. You just won’t believe me.”
“Five years, how can that be? I remember our Anniversary last year, we had the kids round for dinner, Valerie lost an earring. We spent hours looking for it, we had to tear the turkey apart looking for it…” Reggie tried to break into a laugh as he pictured the scene - shreds of turkey being torn from the carcass, hands scooping around the bowls of vegetables and potatoes.
“That wasn’t last year my friend.”
“What are you talking about? I remember it as clear as day. It was our 29th Wedding Anniversary.”
“No it wasn’t. It was six years ago. The day I came to your house in the middle of the night, do you remember that? Three o’clock in the morning, do you remember me knocking for you? And you were sat watching the moon light flicker on the coffee table in your living room. Do you remember?”
“Yes, but how did you know what I was doing?”
Bernie interrupted. “That was originally five years ago, the first time it happened.”
“The first time it happened? You mean to say we’ve been replaying the events of the last five years over and over again?”
He answered with a sigh. “I’m sorry my old friend, not exactly the same, but in simplistic terms yes. Your 30th Wedding Anniversary was five years ago, the car crash was five years ago, your marriage ended five years ago.”
“But how could it? Am I just living in a dream world? How can that be? Surely someone would’ve told me.”
“Mostly not, what do say to a man grieving for the loss of his wife of thirty years along with his childhood friend? What could anyone say to bring you to terms with what happened? You have to remember that most people were seeking to come to terms with it all themselves. Your kids lost a mother, your friends lost a companion. Grief affects everybody in different ways, no matter what the relationship. But the only person ever able to help you from your own grief was yourself. And only when the time was right.”
 “And I suppose I never learnt how to play the piano, that was all a lie as well was it?”
“Of course not. Everything that happened was real, to a degree.”
“To a degree?”
“It didn’t take a week or a couple of months to master the piano. More like five years. This was the first time you were able to play the entire song. And believe me, it was your finest performance to date. Valerie would’ve been impressed.”
“What are you talking about, my finest performance? That was the first time I played it for her.”
“Are you sure?”
“Am I sure? Of course I’m sure. I would remember a thing like that wouldn’t I?”
“The practice sessions in the tree, how long were you there for? One hour? Two hours? A day? A week? It’s all relative.”
“Time stood still, you told me that.”
“And it does, in your head. What is time if not a manufactured integer defined only by what the mind perceives.”
“But I learnt the song there, in the tree. I learnt how to play it, and when I left, everything was as it was. Still night.”
“And so your mind tells you that no time has elapsed, because that is the information it has chosen to seek from the eyes. But suppose there is another source of information, another place situated deep within your brain that has chosen to withhold the information it has? How would your brain interpret that information? Or would it try to make do with what it has access to, and… fill in the gaps.”
“But there were no gaps.”
“That makes the assumption, that the events that took place did so in the exact order in which you recall them. After all, what is memory other than a subjective recollection?”
“I don’t understand, are you telling me it was real or not?”
“I’m telling you that in order to understand the process of grief, your mind rearranged your memories of the last five years in a more understandable and linear structure. Deleting those which countered the complex mechanism your consciousness had set in place to help deal with what had happened.”
“Understandable? You call what has happened to me as understandable? I’ve lost the last five years of my life!”
“Those years were never lost. You lived them just as you did the sixty one years before. But grief affects our minds in mysterious ways, and your recollection for whatever reason has been inverted, almost like a self defence reflex, to help you recover from the emotional turmoil.”
“Emotional turmoil? Me?”
“The mind is such a precious thing, but can snap with the blink of an eye, therefore it has its own way to protect itself.”
“And you never thought to tell me?”
“Like I said, I have been trying to tell you for the last five years. What else am I, but a segment of your mind trying to bring you to terms with such events? Who else would you choose to depict in such a role? I allowed your mind to contend with the situation in the manner in which it felt best.”
“You lied to me?”
“No! I told you what you needed to hear.”
“Who are you to say what I need?”
“Because I’m your best friend, and believe it or not I’ve been doing it for more than fifty years.”
“Fifty years? If what you’re saying is true, I hope you’re not counting the last five years?”
“Grief does not conform to the limitations of time. Nor can it deny truth by merely eliminating a label.”
“Why not just leave me alone? Haven’t you done enough?”
“Because on your own you will have continued through this cycle for the rest of eternity, never managing to escape from the constant torment within your mind. I was able to provide you a diversion, almost like a fire exit from destruction brought about by your own self loathing and grief.”
“You make me sound mentally unstable.”
“You’ve lost your wife and best friend, and at the same time as coming to terms with their deaths, have also had to deal with the fact both had been embarking on an affair that was to leave you alone. There is no way any mind could take all of that shock in one go. Why wouldn’t your mind attempt to break it down into its simplest components?”
Reggie had no answer. He wasn’t so much thinking through what Bernie had said, but rather preparing for what he was about to say next.
“All that shock, all that pain. It would never just go away. It would take time to heal, and it still will.”
There was no more to say, Reggie’s perceived time line had been precisely that, no more real than the dreams he once had of touring the United States on a Harley Davidson. His dreams had been as vivid in their recollection, even more so, than the reality that he had believed to be true.
What was real and wasn’t seemed to hold little relevance in this new revelation of events. How could he believe anything that was happening? Because, as soon as that event passed from the present to the past, it remained solely in existence as a figment of his memory. And as he now realised, that was open to all kinds of manipulation.
If he could no longer be sure of what was real, his entire life seemed to flash across his eyes as nothing more than an elaborate stage show. Reggie’s head dropped into his hands, his shoulders slumped in melancholy at the realisation of his own mind’s fragility.
“I realise it’s a lot to ask of you to forgive me Reggie. For what I…” He paused, considered whether he should take the plunge and say what both he and Reggie knew to be true. “For what Valerie and I have done to you.” There was another pause as he waited for Reggie’s response. There was nothing.
With no change in Reggie’s figure, who remained slumped over the tree trunk, face clasped in his palms, Bernie continued. “You can’t go on like this Reggie, it will destroy you.”
“You led me down this path.” came a muffled response from the tree trunk.
“I know, and I’m sorry for everything. I thought I was helping, I thought the tree would free you from yourself, give you something to live for, maybe even some perspective of what had happened, I never imagined…”
Reggie raised his head, tears pouring like waterfalls from the red circles that encapsulated his eyes “Why didn’t you tell me? Why go on pretending we were friends? When all the time, you had been the one who had taken her from me? Why do that? Couldn’t you leave alone? Stay away from me!”
“How could I? It was too late to change anything. I thought at least whilst you had forgotten, I could try to make amends, be a friend, help you through the pain.”
“You’re no friend of mine!” He announced scathingly, the anger in his face evaporating the tears from his cheeks as they continued to stream from his eyes.
“I always have been your friend, and Val. And we always will be. It was just something we couldn’t hold back any longer. We didn’t choose to fall in love, it just happened.”
“What do you know of love!? You saw what I had, and you wanted it for yourself.”
“Yes Reggie, I saw what you had, something you had failed to do. I admit it was wrong, but the way you treated her, the way you cheated and neglected her, I saw what you couldn’t. And I treated her the way you should’ve.”
The words struck Reggie across the chest like a pole.
Suddenly something clicked inside of Reggie. He could picture himself playing the piano, or at least trying, slowly plonking the relevant keys, constantly making mistakes, constantly pausing to remember the next part. It was true, he could see himself, five years of trying to play the same song, trying to get it right. Each time Valerie was sat beside him, stroking his arm, kissing his cheek.
And then there was the final occasion. Of course, Valerie had never been there, not on any one of the occasions, other than in his heart. But he suddenly realised that he had succeeded, not only in mastering the song, but more importantly his previously hidden feelings towards his wife and in addressing his anxieties of his own mortality.
“And this is how it ends?”
“Why should it have to be the end Reggie?”
“My best friend and wife, both died here five years ago. I suppose the only thing left is to accept my own inevitable demise.”
“For me Reggie, you might be right, at least I hope you are. But for you? Who knows?”
“You mean you’re leaving me for good?”
“This part of your adventure is over, you don’t need me anymore.”
“Need you? What did you do that I needed you for? Other than make me feel I was going insane.”
“I didn’t know what else to do, I just wanted to help. I knew if you managed to master the song, then maybe you had a chance of moving on.”
“So all of this, the tree, the doctor, the crazy visitors. How much of this was real? Are you even real?”
“There you go with that word again, as if it holds any real substance in today’s world.”
“I would know where I stand.”
“And would that make you happy?”
“Of course it wouldn’t, but in the grand scheme of things, do I really want to be happy? My wife and best friend both died in an accident whilst running away from me forever, what is there to be happy about?”
“Life.”
Reggie laughed sarcastically at his friend who sat beside him. “And I thought I was going crazy. You, my friend, have truly lost it.”
“Friend?”
“Of course, it has just occurred to me that this is entirely ridiculous, so much so that it has to be real. Because if it wasn’t it would be a lot more coherent.”
“How come?”
“Because anything that is unreal, but pertains to be contrary to that requires an additional degree of realism to facilitate the illusion. For, without that exaggerated element of existence, any false account of events would be easily identified for what they are. Therefore, it logically transpires, that any such course of surreal events that instinctively resemble those of a fictional existence should in actual fact correspond purely with those of an accurate reality.”
Bernie didn’t say a word, he just looked at Reggie, puzzled. After all the recent events, the one thing Reggie could be sure of was Bernie’s ability to verbally asses a situation, through abstract analysis, but now it was Reggie who was providing the explanation and Bernie sat there listening, like a blank page waiting to be written upon.
“One last question.”
“Go on.”
“What are you?”
“I thought you figured that out.”
“No, I figured out what made sense at the time. You were a figment of my imagination, because that is what made sense. But of course, that can’t be correct. Not now.”
“Which leads you to what conclusion?”
“That you exist, at least in more ways than merely within my subconscious.”
“And is that not sufficient?”
“It doesn’t tell me what you are.”
“Sometimes, it’s not about the whats, but the whys.”
It was with those words that the smoke floated away, dispersing into the blue sky, and sat in its place was a small twig poking from the ground. Reggie stepped up and bent over to inspect the object.
“Where one oak falls, a new one grows in its place. And so continues the circle of life.”
Reggie knelt down over the small sapling. He could see two tiny green leaves growing from the feeble stem that was to grow into the grand trunk to a new and spectacular oak tree.
“It’s about knowing when it’s time to move on, and what direction.”
Reggie looked over the small oak to see his friend approaching, a smile on his face. Bernie reached forward with both arms, his hands clasping something from on top of Reggie’s head. When he withdrew his hands, he was holding a golden crown, and yet the gold looked tarnished, jewels were missing from around the edge, and those that were present looked chipped or discoloured. This race is over, time for the next one.”
The wind blew again, and with it Bernie disappeared into the sky with a final swirl of smoke. Reggie found himself sat on the couch in his lounge. The room around him looked as if a bomb had exploded within, scattering the entire contents.
There were newspaper cuttings across the floor and dust shining over the table, piano and window sills. There were a variety of satins on the carpet, one clearly being red wine, but there were a further couple of which he had no idea. There was a random sock laid on top of the television, and at least five empty glasses scattered around the room, including three lined up along the window sill. There was also a series of books missing from the book shelves, leaving those remaining to look disorganised and untidy.
On one of the shelves was a small scrap of note paper, Reggie walked over and picked it up. The writing was unmistakably Valerie’s. The moment he glanced at the hand written note he remembered.           
 
My Darling Husband,
 
So sorry, you had to find out like this.
 
But I have to leave you, there’s no way this could work.
 
Didn’t want to hurt you.
 
Love you forever.
 
Val
 
The letter he had kept for so many years. Was it to help him remember? Or was it because he didn’t want to believe it was true?
Now is the time to look to the future.
Reggie took hold of the note in both hands and ripped it in half and then putting the two pieces together, ripped them both in half again, repeating the process a further number of times until the tiny shreds of paper were so small they slipped through his fingers like snow flakes.
Reggie separated his fingers to allow the paper to drop onto the carpet below. His eyes looked down onto his past, and then scanned back to the shelf where he saw a single book had fallen flat on the shelf. He looked at the book for a second, it was an A4 size and about two to three inches thick, but something didn’t quite look right about it. It seemed almost plastic.
 
The King is dead
 
Reggie picked it up and stared at the title page. The Prince’s Crown.
But, not only did it look plastic, but it also felt as though it was. Which is when he realised what it was. He quickly opened the book, to realise that it was in fact a small plastic container made to look like a book with a secret compartment. And inside the compartment was found a much smaller paperback of the same title and a small silver crown. It was a book he had bought for Jamie, but for reasons unknown, never actually found its way to his grandson.
Reggie removed the small plastic crown from its container and examined it. The silver paint on the plastic model shone in the light. There were small blotches of paint around the base of the crown to depict jewels. Reggie raised the crown above his head and placed it down over his thinning hair. 
 
The King is dead.
 
It didn’t fit, but Reggie didn’t care. He turned around with the child size crown upon his head and surveyed the emptiness of his kingdom. Valerie had gone, although there were still things lying all around the house that reminded Reggie of her, that feeling that she was still in the house watching over him had vanished. He removed the crown and walked over to the coffee table where he placed the novelty gift on the wooden surface.
On the table was a small photo, he hadn’t noticed this before. It was a passport size image of a young boy. Reggie lifted the image, and raised it to his eyes. The iris’ adjusted accordingly as the light from the window reflected on the paper and through his pupils, transmitting the image onto his retinas. The picture came into focus, and Reggie recognised the youthful smile and cheerful disposition.
There was a feeling deep within the pit of his stomach. It seemed to be a mixture of so many conflicting emotions; guilt, shame and regret, but also mild glimmers of optimism, acceptivity and hope
Valerie had never met her grandson having been born after her death. He felt an overwhelming sadness for his wife at what she had missed out on; of what he had missed out on up to now. Over the past five years he had been wallowing in self pity and despair, he had almost missed his family growing up around him.
 
The King is dead.
 
He placed the image in his pocket, then smiled. Perhaps there was still time.
 
Long live the King.


To be continued...
Bonus Track - Rock and Roll Madonna