First and Final Chapter
It wasn’t that Maurice felt discomfort over success – he’d always found any requests for effort, intellect or physical prowess easily met from whatever personal resource he possessed at any given moment. Neither time nor age had reduced his capacity but neither had it reduced the persistent internal questioning of worth.
Whose worth? Not the worth of the Maurice presented to the world at large. That Maurice was openly approachable, charmingly capable and dependable in even the most trying of circumstance. The question of worth leaned heavily only on the Maurice that Maurice confronted, when his eye turned about to glance inside.
Everything else was reachable, comfortable and manageable but when trying to push through those ever-enfolding curtains separating inner Maurice from that bright and exciting world
beyond, questions of worth rose wraith-like to blur and block his ability to hold on to that success.
Had it always been the case?
Maurice pulled his knees up to his chin, wrapping strong arms around muscular thighs and holding at bay the world that pressed so insistently into his inner realm.
Turmoil in a state of calm – that’s what I feel. So what? It’s all just me looking at me. I’m OK, you’re OK – I read that in a book once. It made sense at the time but it doesn’t make sense to me now. I’m not ok now. I’m not even close to ok. I’m looking out onto a world of controlled industrial activity in a scene of unquestionable natural beauty, yet my platform is dark and shrouded, leaving me peering through an ever-narrowing pinhole at a world turned upside down.
Help?
A real man doesn’t ask for help – he reaches out and grabs what he needs, taking control of his life and the world around him. If someone needs help then it is a man’s role to step forward and do whatever needs to be done.
No obstacle can stand in the way of a determined man who is supremely aware of his ability to make the change that makes the changes he wants for himself and the people who rely on
him. It’s not that anyone specifically told Maurice that. He just knew it as an irrefutable fact.
Yet here he was, a capable man desperate for someone – anyone, to offer to help.
Yet any stranger, friend or acquaintance that offered help would be looking into the face of an assured man, visibly more capable than they themselves could hope to be. Is that ego?
Maurice looked askew at his foolishly confident inner self. How dare you put yourself a step above those you consider friends?
How the fuck can you put yourself above anyone, you hollow shade of a human being?
The afternoon breeze wafted coolly over his face, dragging a warm, salty tear across Maurice’s lower eyelid, bringing a self-loathing lump to his throat and an ever-increasing weight onto his slumping shoulders. It hurts. It hurts so much I can’t feel any more. I don’t want to feel, the hurts is just so – sad.
Maurice’s phone alarm screeched into the afternoon air.
Slowly, Maurice lowered his arms, levering his hands into the cool grass and lifting himself to stand straight and strong.
For better or for worse, he told himself - forcing his legs to obey his order to return to the world he had so briefly stepped aside from.
