Soul mates

I feel that we have always been together. Even before the sperm met the egg and we began our physical existence. We have drifted through space and time without consciousness but being in some indefinable way. All leading to this moment, to now. To the decision that must be made.

To begin with all we ever needed was each other, two sides of the same coin. Janus-like, one looking forward in hope the other looking back in despair; one bright and shiny, newly minted; the other tainted and sullied.

 

I think I was about ten. We were having a family holiday at the seaside, Suffolk somewhere. Father didn’t approve of foreign holidays, ‘England’s got everything,’ he’d say. ‘Rain is what makes it such a beautiful place.’ Mother just agreed, she never did seem to have an opinion of her own. Her life revolved around him and not us. She loved us in her own way but she didn’t need us like she needed him. I think that was why we were so close. Strange I should remember the incident so clearly, I was only ten but I suppose a very knowing precocious ten.

 

I know it is many years ago, and much has happened since, much of his doing, but I can still picture the scene. I know as a child I could not have put it into words but age and experience have given me that ability.

It was late afternoon, we had been on the beach since lunchtime, mother and father were dozing and I was getting bored. The sun, yes it had been a very sunny day, was low in the sky producing long elongated shadows of our bodies. I tried half heartedly to catch his shadow but soon gave up the futile task. The sun made the sea sparkle as though it was made of jewels. I was fascinated. I had been told to stay away from the water but I could not resist it. It was his idea. ‘Let’s have a race,’ he whispered into my ear. ‘They’re asleep. They’ll never know. It’ll be fun.’

I always did, and still do, find it difficult to resist him. I looked back at my parents, father in a deck chair, a newspaper over his face its edge gently flapping as he snored. Mother curled up on a beach towel, a novel forgotten at her side. Other families like ours dotted about the beach, some packing up ready to go, others taking a last dip in the sea.

‘Come on,’ he whispered again.

I often wish I had been an artist. That scene is so vivid in my memory that if I had the ability I am sure I could paint almost every grain of sand.

After that day everything began to change.

 

‘On your marks, get set…’ before the go was out of his mouth he was gone. He could always run faster than I could, he had no need to cheat but always did. In fact he did everything better – well that is until today.

He was rapidly approaching the waves skipping lightly over the pebbly beach. His high-pitched laugh seeming only to be heard by me. I found the going heavy; the stones hurt my feet. A couple of times I thought I would fall but there was our goal, the sea. The water gently pulsating back and forth, white foam left to be assimilated by the next onslaught. He stopped just at the water’s edge and mouthed ‘come on!’ and ran into the waves, hardly making any impression on them. He disappeared from view. I was desperate to catch up not wanting him to think I was a coward.

‘Wait!’

And there I was in the water. I didn’t notice the cold and I was not afraid, he was there to help if I needed it. The suck of the waves as they ebbed and flowed pulling me further away from shore. As I said I was not afraid at first but then I couldn’t see him and I was out of my depth. I began to panic and thrash about. Salty seawater went up my nose and into my mouth, I began to choke. I looked towards the sand and there he was, laughing. I saw him just before I sank below the surface.

The next thing I remember I was lying on the beach with my back being thumped. I coughed, spluttered and opened my eyes. I was turned over and there were my parents staring down at me. I’m sorry to say that they looked more angry than worried.

‘You silly boy Philip! You gave us such a fright,’ this said to convince onlookers that they were concerned. ‘We told you not to go near the water, that it was dangerous. It was lucky that your mother woke up in time and we managed to pull you out.’

Even at the age of ten I was aware of the anger. I tried to say that it wasn’t my fault that it was him. And he stood there laughing. That’s the first time I can remember anything so big and important but I’m sure there were times before. My parents bundled me up in a towel, collected all our belongings together and went back to our hotel. They did not say a word to me on our way back but I got the impression that it was my fault and that I was responsible for spoiling the holiday.

I was sent to bed early with my tea on a tray. Of course he was there smiling in the sorry way he has when he’s trying to get round me. ‘You don’t think I’d let you drown do you, who do you think woke mother up?’

Of course I forgave him.

 

I suppose people today would call him my ‘imaginary friend’. It is well documented that lonely children make these up as playmates. Caring parents allow them this fantasy knowing that a day will come when the friend is no longer needed. Plates are set at the table for them, space is made on the sofa and even a stocking is hung up at Christmas. Parents without imagination call their children ‘silly’ and are told not to make things up. Parents like mine ignore these friends, deny their existence in the imagination. I first mentioned Adam when I was about five, at the time I believed everyone else could see him, hear him, and touch him. I can’t remember what I said, probably something like ‘Can Adam have some too?’ I can’t remember the words but I can remember the reaction. A stone cold stare. Almost no change in expression not a word spoken; almost but not quite as though they’d not heard me. Even now I feel that they knew who Adam was.

 

Since that day in Suffolk many other things have happened. Other times where my life has been in danger because of things he’d made me do. Times even when others’ lives were at risk. He was my soul mate, the dark side of my soul. As I grew older the dark side grew bigger until today when there is only a slight glimmer of good left. But is there enough to make the correct decision?

 

I have made few friends during my life; Adam seemed to be enough. I suppose those who tried to get close sensed something. I met Laura at university. I had decided to go, not for any interest in the subject I had chosen – or Adam had chosen, - but because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. ‘It’ll be fun,’ he’d whispered in my ear. ‘Think of all the things we could do.’ My parents were happy to have us off their hands; someone else could have the responsibility. The bright side of my soul was brighter then and it hurt. ‘We don’t need them,’ he’d hissed. ‘We’ve got each other!’

 

It was with Laura that I had my first sexual experience. Something that not even Adam could compare with. For a time I nearly forgot him, did not listen to his whisperings. All my spare time was spent with Laura, going to concerts, exhibitions, and theatres and spending the nights together. I began to think, to hope, that I might have a normal future, get married, have children. But there he was, waiting his chance. Laura’s mother was taken ill and she had to go home to look after her. He was ready, knew which buttons to press. He was aware of my insecurity, my need to be loved but my fear of rejection. He began whispering in my ear, ‘You really think she’s gone to see her mother! It’s an old boyfriend you can bet. She’s rutting away in a bed with him at this very minute. She doesn’t know what love is. I can see it in her eyes, it’s lust. She’ll soon get tired of you; you’re no great shakes in bed. She wants someone with experience, someone to give her pleasure. What do you know!’ I tried to switch him off, played loud music, drank too much, but he was always there whispering. When she came back I watched here every move, tried to look for double meanings in her words, and of course I found them with his help. I saw things, who doesn’t? She’d smile at a stranger, take too long to answer the phone, be late for dates, and be less than enthusiastic in bed. Without Adam these would have meant nothing. ‘I told you didn’t I? Just look at her flirting. She can’t wait to see the back of you.’

‘You don’t need her! What can she give you that I can’t? I know what you’re thinking. Sex! You can get that anywhere. Pay for it if you have to!’

I began to suspect as he grew stronger, and I weaker, that he was in some way able to influence others. No one ever acknowledged his existence, not even Laura at our closest moments. Gradually our relationship cooled, Laura seemed somehow frightened, she said she couldn’t sleep and was having nightmares. She began to look pale and ill, had a haunted look. Told me she could hear whispering but couldn’t make out the words. She began to make excuses for not seeing me. ‘The doctor has given me some anti depressants, he says that I’m working, and playing, too hard. I need rest and early nights. You don’t mind if we don’t see each other as often do you?’

I found it very difficult not to sneer.

And then she fell down the stairs, broke her leg very badly and had to spend some time in hospital. She wrote me a note, ‘Philip, I need to see you. We have to talk!’

‘You’re not going are you? She’ll have you on a piece of string doing all her errands for her. Ignore her, she doesn’t want you anyone would do. You just happen to be convenient.’

I believed him until another letter came. I didn’t give him time to think, or myself. I went to the hospital and found her alone in a side ward her leg held up in traction. She looked so ill and seemed to have lost a lot of weight. She saw me and tears began to roll down her cheek. Silent tears.

I forgot all my suspicions and fears didn’t give him a chance to plant further seeds. I went and put my arms around her and held her tight.

‘Philip, I’m pregnant!’ I looked at her in disbelief, ‘and I’m scared.’ I held her even tighter; I could hear his whisperings beginning.

I took my arms from around her and looked at her again. I realised that I loved her that she was the first person I had truly loved in my whole life.

‘Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll look after you. We don’t need anyone else.’

It was if a great weight was lifted off me. I felt free.

When she was able to leave hospital I took her back to my flat. I was happy for the first time in my life. He tried his usual tricks but I managed to switch him off and eventually I didn’t hear him at all. I suppose I should have worried, knowing him as well as I did but I was so busy nest building that I didn’t have time to think.

From that day, at least until now, my life changed and changed for the better. I saw my life through a different pair of eyes. I was not suspicious of everyone and their motives; I wanted to be in the company of others. Laura blossomed, she lost the haunted look and I was looking forward to the future, our future.

He did not bother me although I was still aware of his presence in the dark recesses of my mind, embedded in my soul.

Then Laura became ill, extremely high blood pressure. The doctor insisted that she spend some time in hospital. She didn’t want to go and I certainly didn’t want her to but we both knew that this was the only way.

And he was back, her very first night away.

‘It’s not yours. Its father could be any one of a dozen. You’re a fool, easily convinced. Do you really want a cuckoo in the nest? Still she might lose it.’ He sniggered at this; it felt as if a whole regiment was walking over my grave. I looked at him; he had that knowing look I recognised from many occasions. The times when bad things had happened and I just knew that he had been responsible and I knew that he was the reason that Laura was in hospital.

‘You don’t need her, let’s go back to how things used to be.’

That was it, I needed her and not him but how to get rid of him.

‘You’re right, I need you, you need me,’ I said. ‘Let’s forget all about that slut.’ It really hurt me to say it but I just knew he could harm Laura and the baby. The only way was to get her as far away as possible.

When the doctor said she could come home I suggested she stay with her mother for a while. ‘She’ll look after you, take care of you better than I can. I need some space myself, time to think.’ I could see the hurt look, the one that had disappeared over the last few months. I had to persuade her, and him, that I was serious. She did as I asked I put her in a taxi saying I would keep in touch. I only intended to phone her once more.

I could now put my plan into action. I had to get rid of him and I could only think of one way. This is the decision I have to make continue with him and risk what could happen to Laura and my baby, and I do know it’s mine, or get rid of him for good. No choice. I’ve managed to put together enough tablets to do the job. He won’t be able to stop me, killing myself will kill him.

 

 

‘Philipa, are you talking to yourself?’ Laura was sitting in the garden watching her five year old daughter playing, ‘You are a funny one!’

‘Course I’m not talking to myself. I’m talking to my friend Adam.’