ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS
By Wayne Webb
CHAPTER 36
“I am dead?”
Tony was sitting in an arm chair in a hotel suite, where he had been
discharged to that day, after a week longer in the hospital. He was
very much alive and in the moment, but on paper he was officially
dead. Apparently just being alive was not enough proof that he was in
fact alive.
He was getting
better at talking, working the muscles and parts of his brain he had
not used for a fairly long time now, but every sentence was short and
the words came slowly and in smaller bites where he could. He had to
concentrate on what he wanted to say before he said it so
conversations were at a minimum except with Aida, who despite not
having seen him in over a year fell back into the comfortable rhythm
they had where words were not necessary.
Aida and Oriana had
moved from Tonga to Sydney, Australia three months after the plane
crash and there was no ambiguity from the remaining passengers on the
flight, everyone had seen him get sucked out of the plane in mid-air
and since the body, most of the wreckage and the contents of the
plane were lost to the depths the declaration of death without a body
was almost instant.
There was a matter
of the life insurances paid out to Aida, but that money lay untouched
in a trust account and Tony had plenty of money built up over the
years from the business interests and earnings he still brought in
from his famous years and wise investments by his holdings. So
repaying the extra was not a big problem, he had plenty of money. Had
plenty of money, past tense. Now it was all Aida's money as he had
named her long before the crash as beneficiary and executor of the
estate. Now that he was alive though, he needed to unravel the red
tape and his declaration of death overturned. Unfortunately it was
not as simple as being declared alive, it never was going to be that
easy.
He lived in a legal
limbo, and for most people being a non-person and having no official
status would be a kind of purgatory, but for Tony it was as
liberating as being a hermit on an almost deserted island.
Aida had the flight
divert him to Sydney where she was and she put him in a local
hospital in the city, and had a cadre of doctors battling the
infection, the pneumonia and malnutrition from over a year of living
rough on a tropical volcanic archipelago. The Conservation workers
were stunned to find that there had been a man living in the darker
corners of their island for that long without them knowing it. They
found his various hiding places after some searching about and
retracing some of the damage he had caused in his fevered stumble
through the bush to the camp the day he was found. They saw the
stolen items, the clothing, some of which they recognised and some of
which had been taken from the wreckage washed ashore. They also dug
up the buried suitcases he had hidden in his cave headquarters and
pieced together an idea of what his life had been like and how he had
managed to stay alive and hidden for so long on Raoul island, right
under their noses.
He had broken laws,
the island was a conservation zone and fishing inside it's waters was
illegal, but no one seemed that interested in prosecuting him for
those infractions. Technically they were incursions of New Zealand
law, and he was firmly under Australian jurisdiction and not even
legally alive. He could not fly, work or do much at all that required
any kind of paperwork until that was cleared up. Even when it would
be eventually all squared away, his story was fascinating and
intriguing and no one was pushing for a settling of the legality of
being a voluntary, or partially voluntary castaway.
The police in
Sydney did come to talk to him and he answered their questions
truthfully, albeit in short sentences. They quizzed him on how he
survived the crash but his answer like many of the details
surrounding the incident on the plane was “I don't know.” because
he did not. The police knew more about the cause of the incident than
he did, the fault in the engine was caused by a lightning strike and
it in turn caused a specific part which was since found to be faulty
in all plane models of that age, to explode and then, the plane
cascaded into deterioration from there. That particular part
exploding started a world wide recall and refit of all the other
aircraft of that type in service, some of the planes being put of
commission entirely. They still asked the question, but he did not
have anything too much to add.
Except why he did
it. Why did he hide out in the bush, away from everyone for that
long?
“Because I had
enough.”
The senior police
officers nodded, knowing enough of his story by now to understand
what that meant. They had no particular crime to charge him with, no
one was baying for a conviction or an extradition, but it did seem
like that someone should talk to him, find out what and why these
things had happened. Curiosity got the better of them and so the two
most senior police officers in the media office came down to the
hotel where Aida had put Tony in hiding, and everyone assumed that
they had a job to do, and so they went about asking him the
questions.
Tony knew less than
they did except about the daily routine of living life as a castaway.
The workers and scientists had the evidence of what he was doing,
eating and surviving, but no one knew how he was feeling or thinking
until they asked. Tony himself had no articulated the thoughts he had
out loud and even now he was just arriving at the reasons in his own
mind.
They left him
alone, not having satisfied their curiosity but also not finding any
excuse to question him any further when most of the whys and
wherefores were just unknown.
That left Tony,
Aida and Oriana alone in the hotel, guards hired to watch the
entrance of the suite and keep reporters and well wishers away from
Tony at all costs. Even though he had been gone for a while now and
presumed/declared dead, it took very little to ignite the public
interest in Tony once again, it was a life he could not escape. He
knew it, accepted it and had decided after all these years to embrace
it, face it and deal with it.
Aida called Room
Service and ordered them some lunch, Oriana sat and stared at the man
she thought had been dead for well over a year. She was a little
older than he remembered and had grown considerably in that
intervening time, but she was still a child. She had come to terms
with his death and now he just turned up again, like a nightmare she
could not shake away again. She still felt the guilt for the
lightning strike and the subsequent hiding, fleeing and bizarre
twists their lives had taken since he umbrella had been caught by the
wind and blown onto the church roof. Italy was a lifetime away, and
she was no longer that same little girl full of enthusiasm and fun,
she was withdrawn and overcautious about life.
Tony could see it
in her eyes when she looked at him like he was a ghost, her own
private one. He felt that it all had to stop, it was not a matter of
his own safety or his own fame at stake. That was the mess of
conflicting motivations that moved him stubbornly down a path of self
flagellation, using the public’s desire to watch as a whip for his
sins. Oriana chose none of this, she was as innocent as the gust of
air that blew him up after that parasol.
Her reticence, her
broken spirit and the end of her childlike approach to the world was
on him. He didn't need to fix himself, he was already broken and no
matter what he would always be broken to the world that watched.
Oriana though, he did not want her to go down any road except the one
where she could grow up without all the pressure, fear and
responsibilities for things out of her control.
Tony had blamed
himself for everything that had happened to himself over the years.
He had riled up Roy into stabbing him. He had taken the stage dive
that split his skull. He had ripped open his wounds on stage and
invited people to be part of his open punishment of himself. He
stepped in front of a bus. He wiped his own memories to start again,
but once again he put himself in harms way and got hit, this time by
lightning. He shut down completely, unable to interact, unable to
give anyone what they wanted from him, except the woman who wanted
nothing but his company. And then to avoid that happiness and punish
himself for finding he jumped to his death. A legal death of a
castaway presumed dead on the ocean floor. He cut himself off from
everyone and everything and still fate and circumstance put him front
and centre of the human experience again.
“You can't avoid
it.” He looked directly at Oriana and spoke to her as succinctly as
he could. “Life happens to you. You don't happen to it.”
“What are you on
about?” Oriana had picked up a slight Australian twang and her
English was very good, immersion learning had taken root with her.
She had difficulty conversing with her brother over Skype calls in
Italian from his apartment in Rome.
“You don't make
life happen.” Tony massaged his throat and sighed heavily, he
wanted a thousand words of denial of guilt and a forgiveness of her
and himself and so much more, but it had been too much recently and
he could only manage a few words at a time.
“I don't
understand you. I never did. You're ...” Oriana shrugged and left
the room, there was some level of understanding passing between them,
but all the words that he wanted to say would not have conveyed what
he wanted to have her understand anyway.
Tony needed to talk
to someone, but he needed everyone to listen.
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