Maybe I felt guilty for Soph's death. Maybe it was my way of punishing myself. Or I wanted something menial and tedious to spite my father. Maybe I didn't really care about anything anymore because life had lost all meaning for me. At any rate, I took a job at a beef slaughterhouse in the rendering plant.
After the cattle were slaughtered, we took the bones and put them in a giant vat of water and boiled them for ten hours to extract the marrow and collagen for broth. It was a hot, stinky environment. The work was horribly tedious and filthy dirty. The place reeked of death. I absolutely hated it. It was perfect.
I kept to myself. After work every day I loaded my mountain bike into the back of my white GMC Sierra pickup truck and headed for the mountains. I rode different trails every day. When I was out there in the Rockies, the fresh pine-scented crisp air and beautiful views was refreshing, and the trail riding was invigorating. Almost enough to take my mind off of her.
No matter what I did, or where I went the pain followed. The dull ache of loss and sorrow became my perpetual companion. I thought with time it would fade, but it was not to be. Even two thousand miles away, something reminded me of her daily. I felt like I was living under a dark cloud of depression that followed me around everywhere I went. The summer flew by in a blur.
Fall came and winter set in early in the mountains. Eventually I had to stop riding when a deep layer of snow blanketed the trails. After work I went back to my apartment and didn't know what to do with my spare time. Often, I'd sit on my bed and stare at the wall with a blank expression like I was dead inside. Life held no meaning for me anymore. It became a mundane cycle of meaningless repetition. Wake up. Change. Go to work. Come home. Shower. Change. Kill a few hours. Go to sleep. Then repeat—over and over again.
The Colorado winter was brutally cold. And dark. It stretched on for months. Eventually Spring came. I hoped with the changing seasons my mood would improve. Especially when I got back on my bike in the mountains. But it didn't. I had to force myself to drag my butt out of bed in the morning.
After work I didn't even want to go ride anymore but I was making a conscious effort trying hard to move on. I had to get on with my life.
Then as the weather warmed up more, all I could think of was the rapidly approaching one-year anniversary of Sophia's death. It haunted me. I thought of her constantly. When the day came, I skipped work. I was grief stricken and couldn't get out of bed.
Around noon I got up. I wasn't hungry so I skipped eating. I didn't even feel like biking, so I left my bike in my apartment and got into my truck and drove up into the mountains.
I drove around randomly and pulled over into a dirt parking lot I'd never seen before. It was filled with two dozen cars and trucks. A carved wood sign indicated it was a trailhead for a place called Lover's Leap. I started off at a slow pace. It headed high up toward a spectacular peak. The views were impressive, but not enough to take my mind off her or lift my spirits. I hiked for several hours up the steep and winding trail.
In the late afternoon I reached Lover's Leap. The name seemed appropriate. I was standing at the edge of the cliff. There were still slippery patches of ice in shady spots along the trail. I inched forward until my toes were hanging over. Jagged rock and boulders gave way to a shear drop hundreds of feet. I looked at my watch. Five oh three. It was exactly a year ago that Soph took her life. Guilt and grief washed over me. The pain was unbearable. I pictured her beautiful white lifeless face. It felt like yesterday.
The wind was blowing in my face. I hoped a momentary gust would sweep me off the edge. It would make this easier. I stretched out my arms, tilted my head back and leaned slightly forward.
Something inside me resisted. Deep down inside, part of me was screaming, don't do this-it's not worth it. I couldn't force myself to take that last step.
Another part of me said, Shut up. This is hard enough as it is. I'm in pain. My life is already over. It's almost done--one more tiny step and it will all be over, and the pain will be gone. Life holds no meaning anymore. It's time to end it. It was time. Soph, if there is something after this life, I'll come find you. We'll be together again soon. It's time to seal the deal.
I remembered her last words.
I wanted you to know I always loved you.
And then,
I'm so, so sorry about everything. I'm such a horrible, horrible person.
"No, you're not Soph. You're the most beautiful, amazing, incredible person I know." Knew.
Her words pierced my heart like a dagger.
Then the ghost of Sophia came to me as a voice in my head.
"Don't do this. It's not your time. There's so much more for you to accomplish."
Tears of numbing hurt, anger, loss and pain rolled down my cheeks.
"How do you get to tell me not to do it?"
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You deserved so much better."
"All I wanted was you. That was all I ever wanted. Now you're gone and look at me. I'm listening to voices in my head."
I laughed at how pathetic I was.
"Even the ghost of you still haunts me--a year later. I can't, won't ever find happiness or meaning again. This life holds nothing for me now. I desperately want to see you again. And maybe I will if there is some kind of life after this. I miss you. I want to be together with you again."
All of a sudden, I heard a girl screaming. At first, I thought it was Soph. For a split second, in my mind, she was calling out to me. This time I could save her. Without thinking, I automatically sprang into action. Somehow, I knew exactly what to do. It almost felt like I was a puppet with someone else pulling the strings.
I ran a hundred yards down the trail, around a corner to a group of rock climbers frozen in shock as they gazed down over the edge. I wrapped a chain around a tree, roped up and lowered myself downward in one fluid motion. All of a sudden, it hit me. I'd done this before. It was my recurring dream playing out in real life. Every detail was exactly the same. Confidence set in. It would be OK. I knew I'd save her.
Sure enough, I made it down and grabbed her. I clung to her with every ounce of energy I could muster, and everything played out exactly as it did in the dream. The Search and Rescue helicopter arrived and safely took her away and I rappelled to the bottom of the cliff.
I sat down on the boulders at the base of the cliff as the climbers congratulated me with smiles and warmth.
What now?
The dream didn't go any farther than that. I didn't know how it ended. I couldn't possibly hike back up to the top and finish what I'd come to do. Not after an experience like that. I was curious if the girl would be OK. She looked like she'd sustained multiple injuries—possibly some broken bones. I remembered the ill-fated ambulance ride to the hospital hoping and praying the paramedics would save Soph, but it wasn't to be...
But this case was different. This girl would live. I was sure of it. This time, I'd saved her. She was alive because of me. I got into my truck and drove home. I was exhausted so I crawled under my covers and went to sleep.
The next morning, I got up and went to work like normal. I was filling a vat with bones when my supervisor approached.
"There are some people here that want to see you."
He led me into the reception area at the front office. It was a female news reporter with a male cameraman.
The woman approached with a microphone extended.
"Are you Oliver Kelly?"
What was going on?
"Yes?"
"Would you like to tell us about your experience on the mountain yesterday afternoon?"
"Sure. I was out doing a little hiking and I heard screaming..."
I recounted the story just as the events unfolded. I only left out my purpose in being there and my intention to jump.
"What you did was incredible."
"Thanks. But I didn't really do anything anyone else wouldn't have done in the same situation."
"No, I don't think so. What you did took real guts. You risked your life. You're a hero, Oliver. The world needs more guys like you."
"Thanks," I said modestly.
"OK, cut."
The camera was shut off.
"By the way, I was in the hospital earlier today visiting with Alix and she was really hoping you'd stop by sometime so she could thank you."
"How's she doing?"
"She broke a leg and several ribs. She has a collapsed lung, so she'll be in the hospital for a while, but she's stable. She'll be OK. If you like, I could give you a lift to the hospital so you could go see her. I'd love to get that moment on camera."
"Nah, I don't know if she'd want to be on TV. She probably needs to rest."
"Oliver, you're a hero. Someone got the whole thing on video. You're going viral. It's been watched over seven million times. You're going to hear from, Good Morning America, soon. They want to get you to New York for an interview as soon as possible."
I cringed at the thought of going back to New York.
"I don't know. I'm not so sure about all this..."
"Alright, I'll tell you what. Let's call Alix at the hospital and ask her. OK?"
"Yeah, I guess."
The female news reporter motioned to the cameraman to start rolling.
She dialed the hospital and got Alix on the phone.
"Hi Alix, I'm here with Oliver and we're wondering if we could come visit."
As Alix spoke, her words haunted me. That last time I'd heard that voice she was absolutely terrified and screaming for her life. She said yes, any time was fine, and she was really looking forward to meeting me. Her words came raspy and labored. I felt sympathetic imagining the pain she must be going through.
"I get off work at four. If you come back, then I'll go to the hospital with you."
Sure enough, at four-oh-five she was waiting for me at the gate to the parking lot. I got in my truck and followed her to the hospital. She led me in, and we rode the elevator up to the eighth floor, down a hallway and into a recovery room.
Alix was laying bed in a cast with an IV sticking out of her wrist. The rest of her arm was in a cast. Her face was bruised, and black and blue all over. She smiled as I entered the room. Her warm expression pierced my heart. I silently approached her side and stroked her hand gently. I imagined a hug, or any other type of physical contact would be painful.
"I'm Alix."
"I'm Oliver."
"Nice to meet you, Oliver."
"You too."
She was about my age. She was Asian, probably five feet tall, thin, with short hair and penetrating brown eyes.
I felt uncomfortable being put on the spot and having this conversation recorded on camera. The reporter asked Alix if there was anything she wanted to say to me. I immediately regretted agreeing to let them tag along. I felt they were being pushy and intrusive.
"Let her rest. You don't have to answer that."
She smiled at me with appreciation.
"It's OK. I just wanted to say thank you for risking your life to save me. Two seconds later and I would have fallen. One day, when I'm healed up, I'll give you hug."
"I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done in the same situation. I was just in the right place at the right time. I'd do it again tomorrow without a second thought."
The reporter zoomed the camera in on Alix's face.
"Alix, do you think you'll ever go back up on the mountain again?"
"Well, I'll probably be in the hospital for a while and then they tell me it'll take almost a year of physical therapy, but eventually, I don't see why not. I love the mountains."
I wanted to swear at the reporter and call out her insensitivity. I was tempted to push them both out of the room and close the door.
Instead, I inhaled deeply, counted to five in my head and exhaled.
"How 'bout you, Oliver?"
I politely answered.
"Yeah, I go up there almost every day after work. I'll probably go mountain biking up on Dakota Ridge this weekend."
"You think you'll be rescuing any more damsels in distress?"
"Probably not. But like I said, I'd do it all over again tomorrow if the occasion arose."
The reporter had an endless stream of questions, and I didn't know how much longer I could maintain my composure. So, I excused myself hoping if I left, they'd leave poor Alix alone. Couldn't they see it was painful for her even to talk?
"Well, I have to run. It was really nice to meet you, Alix. I hope you get well soon."
"Nice to meet you too. I'm sorry you have to go so soon. Will you come visit me again some time?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"I'd really like to get to know you better."
"Alright. Maybe I'll stop by again sometime next week."
"I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere. Thanks again."
I booked out of there as fast as I could.
On my way home, I stopped at McDonalds for a bite to eat. A little kid behind me in line poked me in the back, then pointed to a video screen on the wall.
"Hey mister, you're on TV."
There were whispers and murmurs in the crowd around me. Everyone pointed at me and turned to look at the screen, then back at me. I was not comfortable in the spotlight with them gawking at me like that. I turned bright red with embarrassment. Someone patted me on the back. The guy ahead of me offered to pay for my meal.
"Thanks, that's really kind, but you don't have to do that."
"No, please let me do something small for you."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"OK."
It was all I could say without getting choked up. Some people wanted pictures with me. It was all so overwhelming. I posed for a few people and then took my food to go and ate at home.
Sure enough, half an hour later, someone from, Good Morning America, called asking if I'd come to New York to be on the show for a live interview. It was surreal. I couldn't help but wonder if everyone would still consider me a hero if they knew the real reason I was up on that mountain. I'd take that secret to my grave, but it felt deceitful accepting all the accolades as though I was something I wasn't. I politely declined their invitation, there was absolutely no way I was going back to New York.
"I really didn't do anything special. You're all making a big deal out of nothing."
Everyone kept congratulating me, saying nice things. The next morning, I got up early and went to the grocery store for some milk and a couple Bismarck doughnuts. An older woman approached asking if I were single. When I said I was, she asked if she could introduce me to her daughter.
I didn't know what to say. It was the strangest thing that ever happened to me. I could be a serial killer for all she knew. I didn't want to be rude, so I agreed and scribbled down my number for her.
By afternoon I regretted doing it because somehow my phone number got released publicly and it quickly began ringing nonstop. I had to shut it off to get any peace. There were even people who came to my apartment and knocked on the door trying to meet me.
Throughout the ordeal, I put on a happy face, thanked people graciously for their nice words as I downplayed the act of heroism. It was ironic just how wrong they all were about me. I laid low figuring the entire thing would blow over after a few days.
I couldn't have been more wrong. Investigative reporters dug around and found out where I went to high school. They started interviewing anyone who know anything about me. It didn't take long before they found out about Soph. They pieced it all together and connected the dots discovering this all unfolded on the one-year anniversary of her death. As the plot twists and turns unraveled, the public became more and more interested, and the more interested people became, the deeper the journalists pried into my personal life.
A witness came forward stating he saw me standing on the edge of the cliff about to jump. Someone posted a video of me playing my very first show at Starlight Coffee Shop when my pants fell down.
Other videos popped up. There was one of me jamming in the best guitar player contest at the bowling alley in Newark. There were a few other videos from the shows I did with Gravity Source. They interrogated Rob and a few of my high school friends.
Someone mentioned that after Soph died, I vowed to never touch a guitar again as long as I lived. It was embarrassing to have my life so exposed like that, but it quickly took a turn for the worse. Speculation swirled about how I was the last person to see Soph alive. She was a married woman, and I wasn't her husband.
The story instantly took on a scandalous element and public interest sickly spiked further with people imagining the worst. The narrative suddenly shifted an instant one-eighty. I went from hero to villain as the story grew and grew. I got death threats. A few people even twisted the events of Soph's suicide publicly posing the question, was she murdered?
I started wishing I'd just gone through with it. This was nuts. I had to leave. I had to pack up my truck and sneak out of town in the middle of the night to get away. But there was no way I could gather all my stuff. If they saw me loading my truck, it would telegraph my intentions to world.
But if I took one bag of essentials and disappeared for a week or two—maybe find a remote place to hole up in the mountains. Surely, they wouldn't camp out in front of my apartment that long waiting for me to return. I could come back to retrieve the rest of my stuff and then move somewhere. I couldn't ever show my face in Denver again. That was probably the case anywhere in the US.
Maybe I'd go to Canada. I'd heard nice things about Vancouver. I packed a bag—just what I'd need to survive for two weeks roughing it in the back country. I set my alarm and woke at three a.m.
Outside my apartment, in the middle of the night, there was still a crowd of investigative reporters staked out. It was insane. I was starting to panic. If I ran for it, they'd get me on film, and I'd look guilty--suspiciously sneaking away in the middle of the night. But I was trapped in my home. I'd have to leave eventually.
There was really only one way out of this. Go back up there and finish what I started and end it once and for all. I grabbed my keys and put on my Saucony running shoes. I grabbed a flashlight and put my hand on the doorknob. I took a deep breath about to sprint out to my car and dash away in what was certain to become a mad chase.
I pictured a swarm of paparazzi pursuing me. I had to try to lose them somehow without drawing the attention of the cops. It was doubtful. If they followed me to the trailhead, I had to sprint up the mountain before anyone could catch up with me. I didn't want them getting me on camera.
I was steeling my nerves about to go for it when I pictured Alix lying in the hospital bed peacefully sleeping. I'd promised her I'd come visit again. I couldn't go without saying goodbye. The hospital visiting hours weren't for a few more hours. So, I took off my shoes and went back to bed. I'd say goodbye to her, then I'd go finish it.