Chapter 6

Mid-April 1963

In the morning, I caught the bus for the last day of the spring term in a dark mood. The bullies must have sensed I was vulnerable and attacked. I struggled through the day, full of appalling thoughts about what my life would be like without Col’s friendship, without Mutti Frida’s deep well of humanity.

On the bus, my world was falling apart. Without Col’s friendship, I couldn’t face this life. This time, I would get a knife.

There was a calmness within me after that decision, and I sat there, watching the scenery flow past. Even though it hadn’t snowed for a week, white patches still clung to the shade under trees and hedges. I knew people would talk about this winter for over fifty years.

From the bus, I walked home. My mother was still at work, but my sister might have been home – but not today, it seemed. I scrabbled for the key behind the step of the shed and let myself in. Selecting a sharp knife from the kitchen drawer, I left, locking the door and putting the key back in its place.

If I wasn’t home, my mother would assume I was at Col’s house, so I would have plenty of time. I walked down the garden, over the fence and into my secret garden.

Under the cedar, the needles were dry and provided a cushion of sorts. I knew the drill, stripping off my coat and sliding up the left sleeve of my school jersey: only one arm this time.

I pulled the knife out of my schoolbag and examined my wrist, reminding myself of the location of the artery. When Seneca suicided after the failed plot against Nero, he had sliced along the artery, not across it, to hasten his end.

So be it.

I poised the knife over my wrist, working out how to best do this in a single slice.

“Willi. Willi, stop.”

Col appeared beside me, grabbing my hands.

“No – leave me alone.” For a moment we struggled, but my emotions surged up and I collapsed in tears, huddled over in the needles. I lay there as emotions tore through me and receded. A hand stroked my hair and I stirred, sitting up.

Col saw me glancing at the knife, which was still in his hand. He dropped it behind him. “What is going on, Willi?”

My breath came in gasps. “I can’t go through this again. I can’t do it alone.”

“Willi, you are not alone.” He grasped my hand. “I care for you, Mutti cares for you – your mother cares for you. You are not alone.” With each statement, he squeezed my hand in emphasis.

“But you are leaving me for Lili,” I said. “And if you go, so will Mutti Frida, and my mother is not enough.” Tears started down my cheeks again, loosed by the ineffable sadness suffusing me.

I saw Col stiffen. “You were going to ... to kill yourself, weren’t you?”

I stared at the carpet of needles.

“Because I have another friend?” Anger built in his voice. “A person can have more than one friend. How can you be so stupid, so ... so selfish?” His expression changed. “If that’s who you are, I’m not sure I want you as a friend.” He stood up, anger suffusing his face. “Here’s your knife, then. Get on with it.” He tossed the knife on the ground at my feet and stormed off towards his house.

With my eyes closed, I leaned back against the tree, my old brain berating me. I was being selfish and might have destroyed my friendship with Col. Clasping my arms around my calves, I bent forward, resting my head on my knees.

I wanted to go after Col, but I was so ashamed I couldn’t do it. All I could think of was going home and hiding in my room. I opened my eyes – and the knife lay in front of me. I reached to put it in my bag.

“Willi. No. No.” Col threw himself past me to stop me.

Col lay there, motionless on the pine needles.

“Col? ... Col?” He wasn’t moving. I scrambled towards him. “Col.” I screamed.

He levered himself up, rubbing his stomach. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“Col. Are you okay?”

He pulled the knife from the ground.

“I’m fine. The handle of the knife dug into me.” He stopped, probing my face, an unspoken question hanging between us.

“No, Col, I wasn’t going to. I was going to pick it up and go home.”

“But when I first arrived?”

There was a prolonged silence until I dropped my eyes.

Col touched my arm. “I’m sorry I said ... what I said. I was furious with you. I don’t want you to kill yourself. You’re my best, my closest friend.” Col’s voice was cracking, breaking my heart. He collapsed forward, grabbing me and burst into tears. After a while, he peered up at me with tears running down his face. “Oh Willi, how could you think of doing such a thing?”

“I’m sorry, Col.”

He sniffed and sat up. Then he grabbed my wrists, inspecting them.

“Have you tried to do it before?” he asked, searching my face.

I nodded.

“Oh, Willi. When?” Anguish coloured his voice.

“The day I first met you, I was about to ... do it, but something stopped me.”

“What?”

“I don’t know; something ... happened and I found I couldn’t do it. At least not that day.”

Col knelt there, holding my hands and staring off into the distance. He squeezed my hands to get my attention and locked eyes with me. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Willi, promise me you won’t do this again.”

The desert of my remembered life stretched years-long ahead of me. “Col, I don’t know I can promise that.”

“You must. You have to.” His face screwed up in heartfelt fear. “I can’t do...” The knife drew his eyes down, holding them for a second before they flicked back up to peer into mine. “ ... this again. You must promise me.”

I swallowed, tears coming to my eyes. I knew I had contemplated this in the future and on occasion gone beyond contemplation to preparation. Yet, somehow, I had survived.

“What if I promise to talk to you ... if I ever feel like this again?”

Col scanned my face with his warm, bright eyes. I could almost feel them tracking through my tears.

“You’ll talk to me if you ever feel like doing this again?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Col pulled me into a crushing hug, only releasing me when I grunted with the strain of it. Then he turned, leaning back against the trunk beside me. We sat in shared silence for quite some time as the day faded.

“Come on Willi, we need to get to my house. Mutti will wonder what’s going on if I’m not there when she gets home.” He stood up – and noticed the knife still in his hand. He paused, lips pursed. “Here. You’d better put this in your bag so you can put it back when you get home.”

I took the knife and stored it at the bottom of my bag. “You’ve got pine needles all over you.” I smiled and started brushing Col down.

“So have you,” he said with a grin.

Once we had removed all the debris, we set off to Col’s house.

As we walked in, Col rubbed the dirt on my cheek. “You need to wash your face and hands.” Tear-moistened dirt was smeared across my hands and on Col’s face.

“You, too,” I said, smiling.

Soon we were sitting on the sofa, a blanket tucked around us, about to read.

Col stopped as he was about to pick up our current book. “What did you mean, I can’t go through this again?”

“Pardon?”

“When I first arrived, and you were going to ... you said I can’t go through this again. What did you mean – again?”

Had I said that?

“I don’t know.” I turned to Col, shrugging. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Col sensed the tension in me. “Okay, I wondered, that’s all.” He eyed me, trying to make sense of this.

“Are we going to tell anyone about this?” His soft voice laced with concern.

I tensed, swivelling so I could see right into his eyes. “No.” It was almost a shout of fear. I took a breath to calm myself. “Please, please don’t tell anyone. I don’t know what would happen to me if anyone else found out.”

“I’m scared, Willi. What if you try again?”

“I’ve promised to talk to you if I feel that way again.” I was pleading. What would my mother do if she found out I had tried to kill myself? Twice.

Col’s eyes rose to mine. “I know.” There was a long pause. “But what if the problem is between us and we aren’t talking like today? What happens then?” The fear in Col’s voice caused it to waver.

“If there’s a problem between us, we must talk about it.” I saw Col struggling with this. I took his hands in mine. “We must never let it get that far.” Our friendship was in danger of slipping away and I couldn’t stop it. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s very scary and you’re right to be worried. Please tell me if this is too much for you ... if it is, I’ll go.”

Col sat, his eyes closed. The world seemed to shut down around me. Intent on not showing any emotion, I started untangling myself from the blankets. A hand on my shoulder restrained me.

“Willi, you are one of the most intelligent – no, you are the most intelligent person I know, but you are also the most stupid.” The hand shook me, hard. “You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to go.” His eyes searched my face. “But you’ve scared me – and that you have this still in you scares me even more. But you’ve promised to talk if things are getting too much.” He paused, seeking ... something. “For us though, perhaps we need a special word we can say to each other if a fight goes too far; a word to make us both stop and think about what is happening.”

I sank back into the sofa, flooded with relief he didn’t want me to go. “A word? I don’t understand.”

“A word that won’t happen in normal conversation. If either of us feels things are getting out of control, we can say it and we have to stop and find out what’s bothering the other person.”

“That’s a good idea. What word?”

“Umm ... how about ... Gundagai?” I was surprised Col knew that Australian place name.

“Gundagai?”

“It’s a place in Australia – there’s a song about it our geography teacher played us.”

I shrugged, to mask my surprise. “Okay, Gundagai it is.”

Col took my hand. “Tomorrow, Liliana is coming for lunch with Mutti and me. Please, will you come and meet her?”

I sensed this was an important test. “Thank you, Col. I would like to meet your new friend.”

Col squeezed my hand and picked up our current book – Müller’s poetry. He paused when he sensed me tensing as I recalled its blighted love and dark, suicidal vision. This might be too much for Col right now.

“Are you OK, Willi?”

I gave him a smile. “I’m fine.” We must speak about this, soon.

I arrived at Col’s house before ten o’clock the following morning, hoping to be there before Liliana arrived.

Mutti Frida answered the door. “Hello, Willi. They are in the lounge room.”

I was a bit taken aback Liliana was here before me, but as I took off my coat, Col burst out of the lounge room.

“Willi. Come and meet Lili.” Col dragged me into the lounge room, eager to introduce us.

I had only thought of Lili as a rival for Col’s affections, so I was surprised when she wasn’t at all like I expected. Instead of the slight, dark girl of my imagination, Lili was a blue-eyed girl, with her fair hair pulled back into a single long plait. She was taller than me, more how I expected a Scandinavian to be.

“Lili, this is Willi.” Col laughed at the combination of our names.

Lili stood up. “Hello, Willi.” She said in unaccented English, but using the German pronunciation.

“Oh. Call me Will. Willi sounds strange coming from you.”

Lili gave me a shy smile. “But that will confuse everyone here who calls you Willi.”

“Oh. All right then.” I said, shrugging.

Col picked up a pack of cards from the side table. “I thought we could play Hearts?”

We sat on the floor and explained the rules to Lili.

“I have played something like this game with my parents. They call it Czarny Piotruś.” She slipped into Polish.

“Do you speak Polish at home?” I asked, wondering how much Polish she knew.

“Oh yes. We speak English too, but my parents want to make sure I don’t forget my heritage.”

She knew what she was saying when she called Col szkop.

“What does szkop mean?” I asked.

Lili sat up, eyes swivelling between Col and me.

“Willi, that’s not very nice.” Col glared at me.

I glared back. Lili deserved this for what she had done to Col.

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70 year old Will wakes in 1962 crouched beside a railway track about to suicide...

Through my Eyes. Again.

Robert Hart

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Robert Hart

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