Henry sat in his usual spot in his laboratory. He looked through his journal of his previous deaths. Hanged: Pain scale: 5 not the worst way to die.
Impaled by train rail: Pain scale: 6, not the worst way to die.
Hit by a truck: Pain scale: 4.5 not the worst way to die.
Shot at, dissected, stabbed, drowned, suffocated.
All of these were not the worst way to die.
He wrote in his journal with handwriting that looked exquisite.
Out of all the times I've died, I've returned in water. I've always returned. That's how it's been for 200 years. And in those 200 years, I've always had something to live for. Abagail, Abraham, even the will and persistence to search for a cure. Now I have none of those things. I feel more depressed than ever, so much so that alcohol cannot cure my illness. I've tried to acquire more… sever methods to numb the pain. None have worked. Every time I walk up the stairs I miss Abraham. The chess game we never finished is still in its exact position, right next to his half-empty wine glass, a 1987 Chardonnay.
Curiosity has always gotten the better of me in these situations. 'Who is Adam?' Is a question that is tugging at my mind. 'How does he know my secret?'
Perhaps it's best if I don't think about it for a while.
Abe had taught me much more than I could ever teach him. In fact, I always felt sorry for him. Though I never told him that. I guess I should have.
At age 9, I'd take him to a park. It was a lovely park where children would play and adults would laugh. Abe loved the park, and secretly, I did too.
A mother walked up to us, I remember because Abe knocked a tooth trying to play tag with the other children.
This woman was carrying an infant in her arms. She smiled at the scene of me trying to console Abraham while he was crying. She told me that my son was adorable. It made Abe blush.
I'd take him to a park whenever he felt confused, sad or alone.
At age 24, we took a stroll along a park on a windy afternoon. We were chatting about him and his girlfriend breaking up.
A colleague from my work (I believe I was a surgeon at the time) just so happened to bump into is while on the walk. He smiled and extended his hand to Abe "Henry" He told me "I never knew you had a brother."
At age 50, we were sitting on a park bench, admiring the trees and the peaceful outlook of this world. A friend of Abe's, a young buyer from the antique store saw me and blushed. "Abe, I never knew you had a son!"
If only she knew, it was just the opposite. How Abe must have felt right there. How Abe must have felt when I had to explain to him not to call me 'father' at age 24 because people would begin to question. None of this was fair from the start. Especially not to Abraham.
Part of me wishes that I had just left that poor baby in the orphanage to be adopted by a loving and normal family.
But I didn't. For selfish reasons.
I needed a companion.
Now what am I going to do? There's nothing to do. Every time I've died, Abe's been there to help me. Now there's nobody. For once in my life, I have no purpose, I have nobody that cares. And I have no alternative.
He took a pause from his writing and glanced over to the razor blades placed beside him on his desk.
I wonder if this time… I'll actually die. _
Just as he picked up a razor blade, he heard a knock at the door. Puzzled, he put the blade down and went upstairs to open the door.
It was Jo, with flowers.
"Hi." Jo said, handing Henry the flowers "I heard about Abe. I'm so sorry."
"Pansies?..." Henry asked, smelling the bouquet
"Are Pansies okay?" Jo looked as if she did something wrong.
"No, pansies are great." Henry flashed a smile.
"Listen, I know it isn't the best time right now… But after my husband died, I spent the majority of my time in his old room and all it did was bring back old feelings and feelings that…" She sighed "Feelings that nobody should feel."
"So what do you propose?" Henry gestured for Jo to come in the building as he put the flowers in a vase.
"Dinner. Nothing too fancy. But… Look, you need to get distracted. That's the best way to deal with a loss. The more you think about death, the more you want to die." Jo shook her head "And it's always a shame when people die young."
Henry couldn't help but smirk at her sentence, as if she thought he was young.
"Besides, you haven't been to work and cases have been piling up and... I just wanted to know if you were okay." She told him.
"I'm okay." He replied.
"Good… Good…" Jo nodded "I'll leave then… It's good to see you."
"Aren't we going to dinner?" Henry asked.
"Oh, I didn't think you'd say yes." She sounded surprised at Henry's statement.
"Well you make a valid point." Henry opened the door to his lab. "Just let me grab my scarf."
Jo smiled "Sure."
Henry entered his laboratory and saw the razor blades and his new journal entry. After a second of thought, he quickly tore out the pages that he just wrote no more than two minutes ago, he grabbed the razor blades and threw them all in the trash bin. He then grabbed his scarf and headed up the stairs.
"Just wondering… Is there anywhere you want to go after dinner? Like a movie or-" Jo looked around the antique shop.
Dr. Morgan thought for a moment, he looked at Abe's half-filled wine glass and drank the remainder, he then looked at Jo and tied his scarf around his neck.
"How about a park?"