Would you talk to me?

Just imagine I arrive at your home at midnight. You open the door, and we talk until 3am, sitting on the terrace. Suddenly, your phone rings downstairs. You go down to answer it. It's my family calling – to tell you that I passed away at 11pm, an hour before I even arrived.

Would you come back to the terrace to talk to me?

I read this in the status of my dear friend Fatma a couple of weeks back and found it a very fascinating thing to reminisce about. Here is my answer...

It is one of these summer nights where you are just enjoying your evening stroll in the warm breeze and are suddenly surprised by a heavy rainstorm out of nowhere. I had been busy all day and finished working late again, when I decided to go out for a walk around my neighbourhood to relax my mind and quiet my thoughts. I was already on my way back, when the first drops of rain started to fall. They trickled down my skin like small pearls of glass and for a moment I just stood there, face lifted towards the heavens, eyes closed. Wet hair flowed down my back, while my clothes became heavier with water. I shivered as the coolness enveloped me like the embrace of something looming in the shadows. My eyes shifted up and down the road, but there was nothing aside from a gentle mist and raindrops, dancing in the light of lanterns framing my path. I continued my walk with a slightly fastener pace than before. I like a good summer rain, but this night something felt different. As if the clouds were crying for a great loss. It didn't feel right to stay and drink in this sorrow.

I am home now and just finished showering. I ruffle the towel through my wet hair as I step towards the window and look outside. The rain has been going on for almost an hour now. I wonder if it will subside until tomorrow. I had been looking forward to this hiking trip with friends for a long time now, and I would really appreciate it, not getting soaked for once. 
I go to the living room and turn on the TV, my naked feet tapping on the smooth wooden tiles. “Two victims have already been discovered. More people are still missing in the debris from the collapsed building.” The newsman just finishes his report and I switch to the music channel. I don't like watching the news. They are only telling horrible stories about wars, terrorist attacks and another village that was flooded at the coast because of climate change. What does it matter anyway, people never learn from it. Why not show achievements, new inventions or little Ayaan, who is raising money for his sister's prothesis? Instead, they instil fear by showing another poor girl who was raped and left in a ditch by an unnamed immigrant. Or was he even an immigrant? They don't even know, but it works well as a scapegoat to create a feeling of unity against the others.

I move on to the kitchen to make myself a hot chocolate, while Wiz Khalifa and Charlie Puth are performing “See you Again” in the background. My thoughts wander as I stir the chocolate into the milk. Suddenly, the doorbell rings and startles me back to reality. I check the time, confused. Who would come at this hour? It is already midnight. And without letting me know beforehand. I worry, something might have happened and hurry downstairs to open the door.
I look at the person standing outside and raise an eyebrow. I notice the rain has stopped as quickly as it started. You seem to have been able to evade the rain, for even your shoes are completely dry. 
“What are you doing here at this hour?” I ask. “Has something happened?” 
Instead of giving an answer, you just shrug your shoulders and enter into the house, removing your shoes. “Why would something need to happen for me to come visit my friend?”
I snort and counter, “Well, you never did before without at least notifying me before.” I realize, that I'm sounding a bit brusque, so I add, “Welcome, anyway. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” you reply, wrinkling your nose. “Is something burning?”
My eyes widen, and I whirl around, storming up the stairs to the kitchen, where I left the chocolate-milk on the stove. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” I curse, while turning off the heat and grabbing a towel to prevent the brown liquid to further flow down the counter onto the floor.
You lean onto the door frame behind me, scoffing, “I knew you were not a good cook, but even messing up something as simple as some hot chocolate? That is a new low, even for you.” I glare at you but say nothing in return while proceeding to clean up the kitchen.

I step onto the terrace, two mugs of sizzling hot tea in hands. You are sitting at the table next to the balcony fence, waiting for me. Your eyes are scanning the city below us, reflecting the shimmering nightlights a bit more vividly than you would expect. There are tears in your eyes and a soft smile on your lips. I watch this scene of serenity for a while, not wanting to destroy whatever moment you appear to be having. Something seems to bring you back to me, and you turn your face toward me, wiping your eyes and smiling even brighter at the sight of the tea. “Congratulations, you have successfully boiled some water!”
I grumble, annoyed by your teasing, and place one mug in front of you, while sitting down in the other chair. “What were you thinking about just now?” I ask. “It seemed to have moved you quite a bit.”
Your eyes flicker in uncertainty, just for a moment, before returning to glance at me cheerfully. 
“I was just marvelling at the view of the city at night.” you say. “It is always beautiful to watch the lights like this.” You sigh exaggeratedly, “I was always so envious of this view you have from your terrace. Everything below seems so small, and it is like we are floating above the mundane world, with all its tiny people and their tiny problems.”
“Hm...”, I mumble, while sipping on my tea. “I don't even know how I ended up here. I was always thinking, it would be nice to have a flat with a view like this, but I never set it as my goal, thinking I don't need it. Even now, it feels unreal, like living in someone else's place.”
“What do you mean?” you ask.
“Well, I just feel like I am not made for this kind of life. I should be down there, among the tiny people, with their tiny problems. Instead, I'm up here, reminiscing how I don't deserve this, instead of actually going down. Pretty hypocritical of me, huh?” I laugh, looking down onto the glowing streets. I feel your stare boring into me, and reclaiming eye contact I ask, “Anyway, how are you doing? We haven't talked in a bit. Work keeping you busy?”
“Not really.” you take the plea and continue the conversation. “Well, the past few weeks it was, but I finished a project today that will keep the stress away from me for a while.”
“That is good.” I reply, taking another sip. I nod towards your mug. “Your tea is getting cold.”
You put your hands around the cup and say, “It's still warm enough. And by the way, I want to talk more to you.”
“What, you're scared I'll kick you out, as soon as you finish your tea?” I ask with a teasing smirk.
You reply, laughing, “It is already quite late, and I suppose you don't want me to stay until dawn.”
“I don't mind too much.” I say. “After all, we haven't talked in a while and as you know, I can do with less sleep than most people.”
“That's what I was counting on.”

We continue talking like this for a couple more hours. It is already 3 o'clock in the morning, when suddenly my phone starts ringing downstairs. I frown. 
"What in the world is up with people tonight. Doesn't anyone sleep anymore?"
"You should answer it. It may be important, if someone calls at this hour." you say, and I agree.
I stand up and jog down the stairs to where my phone just went quiet again. I check the number. Unknown. What the...? Why is an unknown number calling me at 3am? I hesitate for a moment. Usually, I don't answer calls from numbers I don't know. However, I remember your words, and think that it might be an emergency, so I tap the number and call back. Beep... Beep... Beep... "The number you have dialled is currently not available. You can leave a message afte- " I hang up before the bot can finish speaking. I turn around to walk back up, when the phone rings again. This time I pick up immediately.

"Hello?" I say. No answer. "Hello? Who's this?"
"Hello?" A quiet voice answers from the other end of the line and I switch to speaker, to understand them better.
"Who is this?" I repeat, this time a bit clearer. 
"I am sorry to call so late in the night", the other person says. The voice sounds hoarse and is interrupted by soft sobs, "but I heard, you're a good friend of our child."
"What child? Who are you?" I ask, getting impatient. This is probably just some kind of scam and I really can't put up with that right now. "Listen, if you do- "
"I know you often do activities together. My child has been speaking a lot about you and your friends, talking about your trips. Up until a few weeks ago, when my baby didn't talk much at all any more. I thought it was because of work, but now I-…" The voice trails off and is replaced by sobbing. Understanding dawns on me and my eyes fly up the stairs, where you are still waiting on the terrace for me.
"I know who you are." I say calmly, trying to soothe the other person with my voice. "But what are you telling me? Why did you call?"
I wait and listen to the sobs on the phone. Then finally, "My baby was found…sniffle…dead in the evening. It was only four hours...sob...ago, and...sniffle..." The voice breaks again and doesn't finish the sentence.
The frown on my forehead deepens as I press the phone to my ear, even though it is still on speaker.
"What are you saying?" I ask, confused about all of this. "Your baby was found dead? But your baby is here with m-" Beeep...
The call breaks up, and I look at the display, dumbfounded. What in the world was that just now? Was it really your parents? It didn't sound like they were lying, their sobbing was pretty convincing. Then again, I guess scammers are quite good at that kind of stuff. But why would they call me at such a strange time? And they didn't even ask me for money or anything. Isn't that what scammers are usually out to do? Was it a prank? But what kind of sick person calls somebody else in the middle of the night just to make a bad joke like this? And how would they know about our relationship? The voice didn't sound familiar to me. 
This won't do. I try calling the number a few more times, but it doesn't go through. They appear to be on another call.
Trembling I lower my arm, phone in hand, as new thoughts creep into my mind. They said you died. They said you were found dead four hours ago. But you have been with me for the past three hours. Four hours ago I was still escaping the sudden downpour. If this call was real, then who was it that died? And if you died, then who is this person sitting on my balcony? What kind of sick prank is this?

My feet feel heavy like cement as I trot up the stairs, trying not to make too much noise. It seems impossible though, with my heart beating like a jackhammer. Blood rumbles in my ears like a river rushing down the mountain after a heavy rainfall and my vision blures with my puls like an earthquake shaking up the world around me. I feel burning hot and ice cold at the same time as I approach the open terrace door and the sturdy wooden tiles seem to be shaking under my feet like the deck of a ship. Everything feels like a feverdream. I'm waiting to wake up any moment now. To open my eyes and find myself in bed, with the sun fighting through the curtains, illuminating the room. I will be soaked in sweat, but at least I will be alone and safe under my blanket. Not here in this cold night breeze with a dead person sitting on my terrace.
I reach the door and come to a halt. My feet refuse to move any further. There you are. Sitting exactly where I left you, with your tea still untouched and cold by now. You look at me, a knowing smile on your face, and my heartbeat slows down. The rush of blood in my ears subsides and I feel my body relax as I look into your eyes. The fear I was feeling before is gone and replaced by something else.

You return my gaze and I take it all in. I see the sadness, the regret, the pain. I see the humour, the fun, the achievements. We are walking side by side in the outskirts of town talking about the future and the present opportunities, not noticing, how much distance we have already covered. We are together with our friends, experiencing adventures turning into disasters and all of us laughing about it. You call me on the phone to ask me how I'm doing. I text you to convince you to join me on the next hiking trip. I should have asked you how you're doing instead.

My vision blures as I'm drowning in yours and I feel a cold line form on my cheek, originating from the corner of my eye. I blink the tears away and want to take a step towards you, but I hesitate. The smile leaves your face and the light that was dancing so vividly on your iris earlier, fades away. A cold breeze envelopes me, just like earlier, when I was walking in the rain. Just like earlier, when you passed away. Just like earlier, before I had the chance to talk to you one last time.