never told anyone this but my ultimate dream is to go backpacking around Europe,’ I say wondering what it is about him that makes him so easy to talk to.
‘Really?’ he says again. ‘I’d love to do that.’
‘I think I’m a bit old for it now, it’s kind of a “gap year” thing, isn’t it?’ I shake my head at myself. I’m too old for daydreams like this, I should’ve forgotten it years ago. ‘It’s just a dream anyway. I have responsibilities that I can’t just leave.’
‘Me too. I was going to travel after college, but family stuff happened and I couldn’t leave, then I was going off to uni but more family stuff came up, and it made more sense for me to get a job and stay here, so I’d been saving up for years to do one big trip somewhere, and then my dad died, and I bought the business, and now … well, I’m still here. I keep feeling like there has to be more to life than this.’
‘Me too,’ I say.
‘Wow, really? Sorry, I keep saying that, don’t I? I’ve never spoken to someone who knew that feeling before.’
‘Me neither. And there you go, I just keep repeating some variation of “me too” and “me neither”. It doesn’t make for the most exciting conversation in the world but I’ve never said this to anyone before.’
‘Me neither,’ he says, making us both laugh. My grip on the phone tightens, like if I hold it tight enough he’ll be able to feel me squeezing his hand through the handset.
‘This isn’t what I thought my life would be like,’ I admit. ‘And I know I can’t really complain because I’m so lucky compared to others, but I feel like I’m still waiting for my life to start.’
‘I think we might literally be the same person. I’m thirty-seven and I feel exactly the same. I’m too old to still be waiting for my life to begin and too young to be this jaded, but I don’t know what to do about it.’
So he’s only three years older than me. I couldn’t possibly know him, no matter how familiar his voice sounds. I can’t think of anyone around that age who could be in such a dark place and hiding it so well.
‘Me too,’ I whisper.
‘We grow up thinking life will be wonderful and amazing and exciting, and it’s just quite dull really, isn’t it? I keep thinking what if I die before anything wonderful or amazing or exciting happens to me?’ He gives a self-deprecating snort. ‘And yes, I know throwing yourself off a bridge isn’t exactly conducive to that.’
At least he hasn’t lost his sense of humour. He lets out a wobbly little giggle and I feel something like butterflies in my tummy. How can I possibly have butterflies over someone I don’t even know? Someone who phoned because he was about to jump off a bridge?
‘Okay, so … I should go, shouldn’t I?’ he says after a few moments silence.
‘You don’t have to. We can carry on talking.’ I kind of want him to stay on the line for my sake now. I love talking to him. There’s something about him that’s so easy to chat to and a familiarity that you’d only expect to feel with a friend.
I can hear the smile in his voice. ‘As tempting as that sounds, I think I should go home. I’m so cold that I might actually die from hypothermia and, thanks to you, I’ve realized I don’t want to die tonight.’
‘Or any other night, right?’
‘Nah. I’ll stick to killing myself only in daylight hours.’
‘I’m glad you can joke about it, but it’s not funny. You were really going to –’
‘I know,’ he whispers. ‘But I feel better already just from talking to you, getting it off my chest, feeling like I’m not alone.’
He pauses and I can almost sense how ashamed he feels. I want to tell him that there’s no reason to be, but I’m out of my depth and don’t know how to word it.
‘I can’t thank you enough for staying on the line with me. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sure I’ve totally ruined your night.’
‘Oh God, not at all. I’ve loved every second of talking to you. It’s been a wonderful night.’
I can hear a smile in his voice. ‘You just sounded so normal, it made me forget everything that’s been in my head and just feel normal for a change. I can’t remember the last time I felt connected to anyone. As daft as that sounds in our modern world of technology and the internet and being connected all the time.’
‘It doesn’t sound daft at all. It sounds exactly like what I was feeling too.’ I wonder how many more times he’s going to surprise me tonight. He seems to understand thoughts I’ve had but never put into words before. ‘I think it’s something that’s easy to forget sometimes. We get so caught up in social media and being as good as everyone else that we forget we don’t really “talk” anymore. And if you want to know about the modern world, I’m on an old corded phone that’s screwed to the wall, rarely seen in Britain since the Seventies. David Attenborough should be doing a documentary about something so ancient.’
He laughs and I’m glad he got a kick out of that because there’s something about his laugh that I just want to keep listening to.
‘Thank you for reminding me what it feels like to be alive,’ he says.
‘I think you might have reminded me a little bit too.’
‘I keep thinking I know you. Your voice sounds so familiar,’ he says softly. ‘I don’t even know your name.’
My breath catches in my throat, but I think it’s probably best not to tell him that he sounds familiar too. If he is someone I could one day come across in real life, he’s not going to want to be reminded of this night, is he? People can be more open with a stranger. They can tell them things they wouldn’t tell a friend. If he thought we might run into each other somewhere, he probably wouldn’t have said half the things he said tonight. No matter what connection we have here, it has to end when we put down the phone. ‘I don’t know yours. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be. It’s often easier to talk to an anonymous stranger. Someone completely non-judgemental and impartial, who’s not involved in your life in any way at all. Like ships passing in the night, honking their horn at each other and continuing their journey.’
‘Consider your horn duly honked.’
It makes me laugh. ‘And yours too.’
‘I like that, you know?’
‘Horn honking?’
‘No, being anonymous. It makes it seem all mysterious and romantic, like the start of a great story. Well, and horn honking. Honking is a good word. People don’t honk enough these days.’
‘They leave the honking to geese and old-fashioned car horns.’
It makes us both laugh again and I realize I’ve gone from panicking when I picked up the phone to relaxing with his company. He really is easy to talk to, and now I don’t think he’s about to do anything stupid, I’m just enjoying the chat.
‘You can hang up, you know,’ he says. ‘I feel like I’ve wasted your time tonight.’
‘Are you kidding? I’ve really enjoyed it. I didn’t think anyone understood half the things I’ve said to you tonight. You made me feel more normal too, you know.’
I hear him swallow.
‘And I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.’
‘Okay, okay.’ His chuckle gives way to a grunt and a series of groans as I hear him moving. ‘God, I’ve sat here for too long. I think I need oiling. Got any WD40 handy?’
I smile but his attempt at humour is not going to deter me from what’s really important here. ‘How’re you feeling?’