This night felt like it would never end. I loved the feeling of falling asleep the second my head hit the pillow, savoring the rest at the end of the day. But tonight, facing my past turned my bed into a grave. It was such a difficult dilemma that I couldn't even decide if God was rewarding me with heaven or hell. Perhaps heaven was a punishment for me, and God had thought of this punishment very carefully.
As the morning sun rose coldly, I got out of bed. I brushed my teeth and had breakfast. This was an important detail. I put on my most comfortable clothes and sat down at my desk with a cup of tea. I started writing on a piece of paper:
"My dear, whom I love unconditionally without needing to know, to whom I couldn't write poems under the moon...
I don't know how many letters I've written to you, but I'm not sure if there will be more. I would have loved to say goodbye to you face to face, but sometimes life plays tricks. Maybe tomorrow you'll find another letter from me on the same bench, or maybe this will be my last letter. I hope you've cared about every word I've written so far. If there is no letter on the bench tomorrow, don't wait for me anymore and move on with your life. Have people in your life who will love you without seeing you, be loved a lot. But most importantly...
If there is no letter on the bench tomorrow, leave a slice of cheesecake there the next day. Don't question why, my love, do it for me. I can feel you from afar. Take care of yourself, my uncertainty..."
This was perhaps the hardest letter I had ever written. I had never liked goodbyes. Saying goodbye was not for me; I had made a habit of running away.
I carefully folded my letter and placed it in the envelope. I adorned it with the scent of roses and, taking one last look at my home, I stepped out the door. Hearing the door, Norman appeared at his own door.
"You look different, where are you going, kid?"
"I'm going to Marwell. I'm going to give him a chance to avenge his mother and fulfill his father's will."
Norman took off his glasses and looked at me long and hard. Was he silently saying goodbye to me too?
When he broke his silence by turning back into his house and locking the door, I continued on my way. Maybe Norman didn't like goodbyes either? Could this be his way of escaping?
I walked to the park faster than usual. It was empty as always. I left my letter and took a deep breath for all the letters I had abandoned on the bench. I was going to pay the price.
I didn't stay long there either. It was as if I was in a hurry for the grave. I got into a yellow taxi and headed towards the house where Marwell last lived with his family, where his mother wanted to go but never reached that day. Passing through the roads of my childhood, past the trees, our school, the places where we secretly met with girls in high school, I arrived at the neighborhood with villas. I got out of the taxi before reaching the gates. I didn't even wait for the change, because I was so sure I wouldn't come back.
I reached the big brown garden gate. Without waiting long, I went inside. The house had become neglected over time; the tables we always sat at, the swings had rotted. The trees were no longer as green, the soil was not as lively as it used to be. Even though it had taken a life.
I knocked on the door. Marwell opened it as if he was expecting me and invited me in. This house smelled like my childhood. The living room was the furthest room from the door, unlike the other rooms.
I sat on the sofas with my old friend. Without letting Marwell speak, I opened the subject.
"I buried and thought I forgot the past somewhere, but when I faced you again, I realized the regret inside me. I caused great pain to you and your family. I can't say 'forgive me'. So take this burden from me and do what you have to do."
Marwell fixed his pain-filled eyes on me. In my eyes, there was uncertainty, pain, and indecision.
"I want to talk about these at the place that made us like this, at my mother's grave, on that road."
It was hard for me, but I had no right to speak today. I had to go. So I did. We went back to that night with Marwell's luxurious black car. They had repaired the road. Everything around had changed a lot. While everything had been renewed so magnificently, the only old thing was the accident that happened on this road. The sirens, the cries of people had also worn out on this road.
"Do you have the courage to get out of the car, Marwell?"
He took his hand off the steering wheel, took a breath, and without thinking, opened the door and got out of the car. He started walking towards the exact spot where the accident happened. I was following him.
He stopped at the spot where his mother lost her life. He couldn't turn his face to me. I walked around him and stood in front of him. I looked into his eyes with courage.
"If we could go back to that night, I swear I wouldn't even approach your car, Marwell."
He said nothing. Maybe our experiences had flashed before his eyes. That day, from this exact spot, he got into the same ambulance with his mother. He was drunk; he couldn't even comprehend that the woman lying in front of him was his mother. The doctors said he only whispered my name. Even while drunk, he could understand that I was guilty. Now there was no reason for him not to take my life in the same place.
Marwell took a deep breath. His gaze was fixed on the ground as if searching for the traces of that day.
"If I knew that taking your life here, where my mother died, would bring her back, I still wouldn't do it, you know?"
"I never thought this way when I came here, but..."
"What did you think?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. I smiled and rolled my eyes, "I had breakfast this morning," I said.
He knew very well that I hated breakfast.
"Let's go, Ethan, I forgive you," he said with a serious expression. I couldn't hide my surprise and followed his "please go ahead" gesture, thinking we would talk in the car. I turned around, took a step.
One...
Two...
Three...
As I collapsed to the ground, covered in blood, with the last bit of strength I could muster, I uttered a single sentence.
"You were my friend..."