„Old age is just forgotten memories and past feelings”

The sky was still weeping even if the rain had stopped for about half an hour already, or at least it seemed to be so while small teardrops, ice teardrops fallen from the sky, were still dancing up and down over the old earth.

Bardain instead didn’t care to feel them from time to time touching the wrinkled skin of his hands. He considered them to be more like his friends, his helpmates who had been with him all that time while he rushed through life and not walked onto its path at a slow step. And… Bardain adored not only their pleasant touch but also the scent that has cooled his tired of harsh times and worries chest, so many times in the past, giving him wings to fly toward a blue sky, seen only by him, from time to time.

Then, memories were reborn in the old man’s soul each time the sky was opening the mouth of his sack of tears, washing with them everything he met in his way and namely in such moments after the sky has calming down a little bit, Bardain was going to the garden to deeply breath in the scent of those small creatures called raindrops.

But the old man was doing this more to feel, even if for a short period of time, that the world was his, that the sky loved him so much while Bardain, sitting on a log or on a stone forgotten by the time somewhere in the garden, was falling prey to dreaming, to memories, becoming their sure target, and the old man’s brain was moving so fast the wheel of time back, returning him back into those times when he was still young when he still had so many plans for life and for his future, but which he had to give up on only due to his respect for Baron Beneath who helped him a lot to escape poverty and hunger, and also it happened because he suffered because of the love he eventually lost due to a whim of life.

Listening to footsteps approaching him, Bardain winced, but he didn’t stand up to greet his guest and he didn’t also turn his head to see who was coming: the noise of those footsteps was well-known to him while their owner was slowly stepping, calculating each step that was taken in front and Bardain knew those steps since long ago, since Brian was still a child and, in time, the teamster got to recognize them from so many footsteps that were wandering through the world.

Arriving next to the old man, Brian sat down on the next log and he also watched the dark sky, laden with heavy rain clouds that just seemed to clump together, to then spill over the world again and get revenge for an old upset forgotten by the world. But no matter for how long Brian didn’t look at the limitless vault of the sky that was sprawling over them, he saw no star or at least a small light, which could have meant for him a light of hope.

„It’s difficult for you too, isn’t it?” Bardain asked Brian eventually, after minutes in a row of keeping silent, one next to the other, each of them with their worries on their shoulders.

„Who doesn't have a hard time in this life, Bardain?! I think each of us has a hard time pressing on his soul.”

„Depends on the burden because there are burdens that weigh more than others on the balance of souls,” the old man murmured and smiled again.

Watching him, Brian realized, for the first time in those twenty years since he knew the old man that was sitting next to him, that Bardain actually smiled only a few times in his life.

„You know my story, old man, but … you never told me yours,” Brian asked eventually, in a half a voice.

„Nothing special, just a story like any other and the same burden on my shoulders just as others have in this world,” Bardain said, sadly smiling.

„I don’t know why, but I feel that yours is a love story with a pleasant scent, but a bitter taste,” Brian added and he again looked at the sky, for knowing that if Bardain was grouch it was because life made him so.

„If it had a happy ending, I wouldn’t have been alone at old age, young master. Just as you, who are alone now, even if you have the beloved woman next to you. But in fact, you are lonelier and more strangers than ever.”

„Is it that obvious?” Brian said sadly.

„Even a blind man could have seen that, for… Miss Eva seems not to be ready to forgive your past mistakes. And … who knows if she’s able to forgive them one day.

And those wise words stub like a sharp knife into Brian’s heart, for even if he also thought about this before, he still didn’t want to think that it might be true: he had struggled too much to be happy for even a moment, and now, when he was free again and he had the possibility to live a normal life next to his beloved person for the whole life, the past mistakes, the decisions that had been taken in a hurry, and maybe the words said randomly, but which he didn’t remember, seemed to have dug a huge and uncrossable abyss between the two.

„Maybe you’re right, Bardain, but… I'm not going to give up. Not in this life.”

„And so it must be, mister Brian, for the beloved woman, one must fight with bare hands, if necessary, only not to lose her.”

„But it's so hard, Bardain. Sometimes I feel like I lack the strength to do that.”

For the first time since they met that night, Bardain raised his glance and looked at Brian, and, even though the light of the evening was blind and he barely could see the face of the man next to him, the old man found his young master even more tired than he’s been before, but he wasn’t tormented by bodily tiredness, but by an inward one: that was slowly killing him, but sure.

„But… I don’t have the right to give up. Not now. Not after all through which Eva had to go through because of me, and if I have to atone for my sins by begging for her love for a lifetime, I must do that, Bardain. Otherwise… I’ll regret it forever.”

Then, Brian bowed his head a little and looked down, at that muddy ground, bathed by the autumn rains, and waited. But… although he would have wished to hear at least a few encouraging words from the old man that was standing next to him and who got to be for him more than a simple teamster, in time, whom he considered as being a good friend, a trustful guide through life, whose support and fidelity was something Brian could always count on, Bardain has preferred to say nothing instead.

Then, seeing that he’ll remain without the comfort that night, being it at least with words, Brian stood up and headed to the opposite direction of the house.

Seeing him walking away, Bardain immediately rose to his feet: „are you going somewhere, mister Beneath? Should I prepare the carriage?”

„No, Bardain. There’s no need for this. I’ll only stretch my feet, that’s all. I feel that I need to be alone to comfort my soul and to calm down my thoughts that are spinning in my head like the bees in the hive. But… I won’t go far, and … there’s nowhere else to go further than this place.”

Saying this, Brian bitterly smiled, turned his back to the old man, and slowly headed toward the small forest seen in the distance, not that far from the jasmine field, that has been once part of Alfred Stonebridge’s fortune, but which was lying into disrepair at that moment and, seeing it, Bardain compared it with his old love story, that he remembered it, but he understood that he doesn’t have the possibility to live it one more time and he also understood that Eva and Brian’s love could have the same fate as his love: a no happy ending story, like a jasmine field left in ruins.

***

His footsteps, that had once wandered those paths looking for dreams, were treading slow-paced at that moment languishing for so much comfort that was late to be felt, similar to those raindrops that had been late to fall from the sky, preferring not to be part of the spout that fell over earth not that long ago.

At that moment instead, remembering that they had to cool too the earth, which was already too overcooled by the tears of the sky that had already fallen over surroundings, the raindrops started to finely drip over Brian's blackened clothes, who was slowly advancing on that country-soaked road, passing by the same field of jasmine flowers he had once adored.

And Brian looked so sad, feeling how a big clamp was tightly squeezing his chest, keeping him a captive of his own inner world, even if he had thought that returning to the places where he met Eva, it will be easier for him to make her forgive him. But… he has been so wrong.

Yes, he’s been wrong and… he didn’t know what else to do to be sure of his success, for that stupid and blind fight with the beloved woman which had started to kill him inside while becoming even more frequent than before and all having the same starting point: their marriage.

„Why are you so against this idea?” Brian had shouted madly, the same evening, only a few dozen minutes before his talk with Bardain outside when he and Eva were in the living room and he had again started to talk about marriage.

„Because I don't see the point of it,” Eva said dryly, but he felt in her voice a kind of slow shaking of an old upset that seemed not to have passed, like a slow shaking of the soul… a shaking caused by a barely seen wound, but which was still bleeding.

Brian looked thunderstruck at her: „don’t you see the point? Is it that simple for you?”

„Simple? No, it isn’t, but I don’t see why should we get married, Brian. If it’s only for the child, you shouldn’t worry about this because I’ll excellently take care of him and he won’t miss anything,” Eva added and a kind of indifference was felt in her voice this time and which Brian had no idea when she got it as a habit because he knew her being emotional before, incapable of controlling her feelings before, especially being unable to bridle the negative emotions which had overwhelmed her in the past.

„Then, what about us, Eva? Didn't it matter for you all that we lived together?”

Brian’s eyes, which were furiously looking at the reckless woman that was standing in front of him and who was looking as if being a cold, stone statue, even if inside her, right under her heart, was formed a new life, suddenly started to blink, but not under the influence of the madness that was so quickly taking over him, but due to the pain that was holding him in its strong, monster arms and, for the first time since he met her, the man felt how the smooth surface of his eyes has been bathed in tears.

But Eva didn't seem to feel the same way while standing with her back at him, with her arms crossed on her chest, and watching the outside night through the window, as she used to do each evening lately. „We also tried to be happy in the past and we didn’t make it. I don’t see the point to torment each other for one more time with the same reckless feelings that only hurt our hearts, Brian. I think you'll agree with me on this,” she said and she finally looked at him. But … Brian didn’t see anything else than her aura that looked more like a gust of polar air, spread around.

After that, Eva said nothing more: she just turned her back on him and she left the room in a hurry, knowing that if she stays there for one more second, the talk that she considered being useless will continue, and she hadn’t any additional argument to stand against it and against Brian’s idea.

„Our union is useless for her,” Brian sadly murmured, stopped in place and turning his face on the field dried by the harsh times, on which the jasmine bushes, that were lacking flowers and leaves, devoid of love and life, seemed like ghost creatures, with their back hunched, with multiple arms hanging next to their bodies, and … with their heads bent: the perfect personation of the man’s state of mind, who felt that he was reaching the end of his power and patience.

„Why?” Brian asked barely heard, in a whisper, as if being afraid to tell the world about his painful feelings. „Why is it so hard?” he said loudly this time. „Why is it so difficult to love and why is it so painful to forget past mistakes?” he shouted with all his heart. „Doesn’t it really matter the beautiful moments spent together than the madness? Are so important the ego and the foolish resentments? Are they so valuable, those nonsense principles and morals that don’t do more than hurt the others even more?” Brian said also in a shout which released his chest eventually along with the cold air that was entering his body through the nostrils and his open mouth, cooling him inside while the man, that was feeling his heart madly galloping inside him, was deeply breathing in and out, unwillingly practically, like a manner of directing the music of that sudden madness that was so fast taking over him, even over nature, and over life at the same time.

And the unexpected explosion happened: the tears, that for years had been kept captive in the iron chest of the man, suddenly jerked outside, first bathed his eyelids and the long, black eyelashes, to later run frightened down the cheeks, on the soft olive skin of his face, that has been once so adored by the women, that has been once kissed with so much zeal in the music of the love words spoken by the same woman who made him cry eventually that day. Then, as if they were stubborn to accompany those tears, sobs were heard coming out of Brian’s chest, sobs whose deaf and loud sound at the same time were rushing somewhere in the distance. But… there wasn't anybody there to give that comfort the man was so insistently looking for, even in sobs.

Actually, there was somebody there: a soul that was lurking on Brian from the distance, a soul that unconditionally loved him all his life, and who, even in hard moments, in times of darkness, was by his side - Bardain.

But… even if the old teamster was listening to Brian’s cry, he stood far from him, as if trying to give him some space, to give him some time to clean up his mind, to make his own wise decision, to deeply breathe in, and … to move further, as he had done before, so many times.

Then, the old man turned his back on that field studded by black ghosts, as if taken from tales with mad fairies, with fairies that were bringing misfortune on earth, and his footsteps, tired because of the long years of life and past memories, started to slowly measure, but precisely, each centimeter of soil seen in front of him.

With his head bent and with his hands grabbed at his back, Bardain was advancing further and further from those places, but his intention wasn’t to run away or to disappear: he was doing only what he has always done - he was offering time to the time, space to the space, and moments of thinking and normally breath to the man who needed it.

And the old man knew what he was doing and he was doing this well, for he knew that Brian was independent in many spheres, including his relationships with the women, and even if Brian was looking for comfort or waiting for a good word told him by another man, he still preferred the loneliness that was giving him the opportunity to understand himself, to know better his own soul, to bandage his bleeding wounds, to sweetly kiss the invisible cheek of love and, with new powers, to start again what he was doing.

„It has been always like this,” the old man thought. „He has always fought alone and he always made it and, poor young master, he had to suffer so much in his short life,” Bardain murmured in his head while his eyes were running in front of him, and the blind image of the ground onto which he was stepping was running behind him, just as his thoughts were running back and back, toward that far away past and forgotten since long ago by others.

***

„Papa!” Brian, the teenager, shouted while running toward his father’s office, holding in his hand a drawing representing his mother’s image, that he has thought forgotten or deeply hidden in his memories.

A deafening smack stopped the boy and his ears went deaf for a few moments after that sudden shooting. Then, the same unexpected event brought him back to his senses due to the strong scent of gun powder that got to his nostrils.

He jerked from his place and entered in a run into Baron’s office and he saw him lying on the armchair, just as he fell after shooting himself in the head, and the sporting rifle that he had chosen for that extreme gesture, was laying lifeless at the foot of the chair.

„Daddy!” Brian suddenly shouted, dropping the drawing that didn’t fall directly on the floor, but, as if moved by a strange current of air, it floated down as if being a slightly goose down. Then, the boy rushed to his father, but he didn’t manage to get next to him, for Bardain, who showed up in front of him from nowhere, hugged him and, helped by two other servants, they took the boy out of there.

After that, when Brian was already outside the office and the door was closed, Bardain slowly approached Baron and, with fear, he stretched his hand in front and touched his neck, but … there wasn't felt any pulse of life in that body. That made Bardain bow his head sadly and a few tears welled up in the corner of his eyes: to wipe them, he took the kerchief out of the chest pocket, crinkled it in his hand, and he wiped those drops of salty and of pain water that bathed his cheeks only with the corner of the kerchief.

Two fists that suddenly hit the door made the teamster wince and he looked thunderstruck at the closed door. Then, he heard Brian’s furious voice that kept hitting the door and, through tears, he was shouting: „Bardain, open this door! Bardain, let me see my father! I must see him!” But… Bardan has been relentless.

Yet, he had to come back to his senses from the numbness of the sadness when he heard noise from outside, a hint that one of the servants eventually brought the police because even if Baron committed suicide, it was still a crime that has to be investigated. But when he intended to go to open the door, listening to the steps of many people approaching the door and the boy’s voice shouting to them to leave his father alone and not to touch him, Bardain spotted a crumpled sheet fell to the floor not that far from Baron.

He slowly bent and took it in his hand, despite that it was abundantly splashed with traces of life, with traces of blood.

And… even if his hand was shaking like hell, Bardain unfolded the sheet and read the few lines written on it: „Brian, son, forget everything you’ll find out! Forget everything and live! You’ll be safe only doing so: you, our name, and our family!”

Bardain shuddered and stared at Baron’s lifeless face, who despite the fact that was dead, he was still staring at his teamster with the same glance he used to watch him still being alive.

„What this means, Mister Beneath?” Bardain murmured. „Why did you do this stupid thing?? Why did you choose to take this reckless step? Was there really no other way out?”

But Bardain didn't have time to think about what those lines which were written on the paper would have meant and nor to wait for answers from the one who wasn’t able anymore to give it to him, for the shouts of the policemen to open the door and the hits in the wooden, made him rush: he quickly hid the sheet of paper under his shirt, rummaged quickly through the drawer where Baron often kept his important documents, and, finding them, he also hid them under his clothes. Then, before going to the door and opening it, he first closed his master’s eyes, for at least that was what he had to do after so many years of serving as a devoted dog to the Baron.

„Why have you been so late opening the door?” one of the gendarmes scolded him when Bardain let them in.

But the teamster looked away as if he was afraid to look anyone in the eye or he would have felt guilty for what happened, and he secretly wiped away a tear.

The policeman left him alone for the moment, understanding that it might be difficult for him too, and approached his colleagues eventually to investigate the room.

But… even if the investigations lasted for weeks, the police couldn’t find out any other reason for Baron’s death than Helen’s run and they concluded that he committed suicide because of the shame of being abandoned and hurt.

And… Brian had believed everything they told him and the hatred has been born in his chest: a hatred headed toward Alfred Stonebridge and Helen Walker, a killing feeling that he intended to take with him to the grave.

Bardain however knew that things weren’t as they seemed to be at first glance, but … being afraid for Brian’s life, especially after reading those lines written in a hurry by Baron, asking Brian not to investigate his death and to forget everything, he preferred to keep silent. And… there was one more thing Bardain hid from his young master: the documents he took from Baron’s drawer and… a letter with a simple, but effective beginning:

„Brian, son of mine,

listen to my words written here and never forget them: there’ve been others who killed me, because of … friendship; there’ve been others that craved so much for my fortune, and because of these, I had to die…”