The Day I Died

“He’s dead!”

I heard the man’s upper-class accent declaiming loudly, felt myself being prodded and pushed, someone holding my wrist and fiddling around with my shirt, pressing something cold on my chest.

Yet I couldn’t open my eyes or speak or even move a muscle.

“Yes, I’m very sorry, there’s no doubt about it, your friend has just passed away,” the posh man continued. “Probably his heart. He didn’t suffer.”

“Oh my God!” I recognised my friend Jim’s horrified tones. “I – er – I’d b-better call an ambulance!”

“No point, I’m a doctor, and I’m telling you no on one on earth can do anything for him now,” the other man continued forcefully.

“Fuck’s sake! We’d better tell the hotel manager then—”

“No need. Look the best thing you people can do is sit tight with your deceased friend here, while I call the police. They’ll be here within minutes and they’ll know how to handle things. Just stay close to the body until they arrive.”

The body!  That was me!

I could hear Betty crying in the background, and shocked gasps from Jim and young Cliff.

After the firm’s boring conference in this seaside town, we’d all gone back to the hotel for a meal. Afterwards, in the bar, I had slipped into what I can only describe as some kind of a deep waking sleep, but seems to have been something more serious.

I heard barroom chatter in the background, while there was a short shocked silence from my friends, who must have been still sitting beside me at our table, as they had been when I slipped away.

“I can’t believe it,” Jim said, voice choking with emotion.

“Nor can I,” Betty added tearfully.

“I suppose we should phone his wife.”

“Oh no,” Betty assured him. “Don’t give that cow the satisfaction. Just between the three of us, I happen to know that his wife will be over the moon – she’ll think all her Christmases have come at once! My sister’s cousin knows that evil witch, and apparently she’s longing to divorce him, but doesn’t want to lose the house. This way she cops the lot – she’ll move in that boyfriend, she’s had for years. Dear old trusting Mike, he’s too decent to realise that the cow has been cheating on him for years, the horrible bitch. She really never did deserve a man like Mike.”

I went on listening, hardly able to believe what I was hearing.

“Do you know something?” Jim went on into the stunned silence. “It sounds a bit over the top, but I – yes I’ll say it! I actually loved old Michael. In fact dear old Michael saved my life last year. I’d had a lot of problems back then, you see. I was drinking heavily, and one night I decided to end it all. Mike happened to phone me, I told him how low I was, and he came straight over and threw away all the pills. Then, next day he insisted on taking me to Alcoholics Anonymous, and I broke free of the booze – couldn’t have done it without him. He did all that for me, and he never said a word to anyone. I really really appreciate what he did, and I never told him. I loved old Mike. And I never told him how I felt.”

“Hmm, yeah. . .” This time it was the younger voice of Cliff, our much loved twenty-something office junior. “Actually this is really embarrassing.  I don’t know what to do. . .”

“What?” from Jim.

“Well, I hardly like to mention it, but the thing is, this morning Mike told me he’d forgotten his cash card, and asked me if I could get him £200 from the machine for this weekend, and he’d pay me back on Monday. Well I did. And – err – well I can hardly ask for it back now, can I?”

“No problem,” Jim answered, and, just like when the doctor had examined me, I felt a hand against my chest. “Mike always paid his debts, I know he’d want to give it back.” There was a pause. “But, sorry Cliff, but there’s no money here.”

“Really? That’s strange because I saw him put it in his wallet this morning. Goodness, he must have spent it all. Oh well, can’t be helped.”

“Hello?” Jim went on. “What’s this? Why is there a photo of Julie from accounts in his wallet?”

Betty answered this time. “Didn’t you know? They’ve been having an affair for ages now. Julie really wants him to divorce his wife and marry her, but Mike was hesitant, she said he was afraid she didn’t love him enough, keeps telling her that he’s too old and fat and ugly for her to love him. But you know what the irony is? Julie would do anything for him, she doesn’t care that he’s got a face like a warthog and a fat arse. He’s kind, and that’s what Julie likes, his kindness. He really should have just ditched that bitch of a wife and gone for Julie, who really does think the world of him. It’s so sad.” She began to cry. “I was all geared up to have a heart-to-heart with Mike to tell him the truth, and now I never can! To think Mike had it all going for him, he could have been so happy, and he just didn’t realise what he had until it was too late.”

“Yes.” Young Cliff went on. “You two have known him longer than me, but I reckoned Mike was a really good bloke too. When I first joined the firm I never thought I’d get through the probation period. I’d had a real rollicking from head office, telling me I’d be out if I didn’t get more sales. I told Mike that I’d decided to pack it all in. And do you know what he did? He passed on every sales contact he had for about a month, losing a lot of money, and that was enough to get my sales figures up, and by then I got the hang of things on my own. But without Mike helping me like that I’d have lost the job, no question. And now? Who knows? I’d probably be back on the unemployment. Yeah, it’s bloody rotten this has happened to a bloke like that.” His voice became hoarse, as if he was close to tears. “Why is it always the good guys who have to die? I loved Mike too. Why on earth is it that we never say what we really feel until it’s too late?”

“And where the hell is that policeman?” Betty wailed. “This is ridiculous! I’m not waiting any longer. I’m going to find the hotel manager, and tell him what’s happened.”

Things went quiet for a while, and then, suddenly…

I was fully awake!

I opened my eyes.

Betty screamed.

Jim yelled “Oh my God!”

And Cliff said nothing, I just saw him drop his glass on the floor, beer spilling everywhere.

A man came over and bent down to talk to me.

“I’ve called an ambulance, sir. What a relief to see you’ve woken up. Your friends were very worried about you.”

“There was this doctor,” Jim added, still astonished. “The silly bugger told us you were dead.”

“Was it a very tall thin man in a dark suit?” the manager asked.

They nodded.

“Must have been Larry, our local lunatic and part-time pickpocket, who’s permanently banned – bloody man must have slipped past security again. He was a nuclear physicist last week, telling everyone to hand over their watches because they were radioactive. I’m so sorry you’ve all had such a scare.”

“I’m not,” I told them all, feeling a flood of happiness flowing through me. “This has given me a chance to make a few important decisions, decisions I’ve been putting off for a long time. Made me realise you only get one life – you have to live every day as if it’s your last.”

When the paramedic arrived, he did all kinds of tests and prodded and poked me, eventually telling me that I was okay physically, but should see my GP when I got home.

“And how are you feeling now, sir,” he asked as he was packing up his stuff.

“I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life,” I told him honestly.

“Yes, we often find that a health scare helps people to see things in perspective – encourages them to get on and do the things they’ve been putting off.”

“And I’m so sorry, I scared you all,” I said to my friends, feeling a burst of warmth towards them all.  

“We’re just delighted you’re okay,” Jim said. He continued hesitantly: “Erm, Mike, while you were unconscious, could you hear anything we were saying?”

“Not a word. I was out like a light.”

“That’s a relief.” He shifted awkwardly in his seat, giving a tight smile. “Look Mike, we need to have a long talk sometime—”

“No need, mate,” I told him, laying a hand on his arm. “Friends don’t need to say everything they feel, we already know the important things by instinct. Besides, we’re English – we don’t do emotions.”

I broke the embarrassed silence, as I felt in my pocket.

“Bloody hell! My wallet’s gone! Someone’s nicked my wallet!” I pretended to be upset, to play a joke on them.

Jim took it out of his pocket. “Sorry Mike.”

Cliff chimed in, shamefaced: “It’s all my fault, I can explain. You see—”

“No need to explain, Cliff.” I decided to put them out of their misery. “Obviously you had to get my wallet to try and find my wife’s mobile number – after all you thought I was dead, you needed to contact her urgently, didn’t you?”

Cliff smiled. “Erm, yes, we did, only—”

“Wait a minute, where’s that two hundred quid, you lent me, Cliff? It’s gone! That fucking doctor!”

 

Image by C, from Pixabay