Phillip Boyce - Issue 34

My name is Phil Boyce and I live in Belfast, Ireland. In my mid-40s I decided to attempt to fulfil a lifelong dream of becoming a writer. I’d been writing a website called the OiNK Blog for a few years about a classic 80s humour comic which proved a success and so I began to diversify to cover other titles. Through this I’ve got to know lots of individuals in that industry whose positive feedback on my work inspired me to take the next leap. I am currently co-writing a book about the OiNK comic with one of its award-winning editors, Patrick Gallagher. I am also writing a one-off bookazine project centered around classic British comics from the 80s and 90s which I intend to fund through Kickstarter. This competition entry is my first piece of fictional writing that I’ve released into the wild.

On a personal front, when I’m not attempting to recapture my youth via these comics I’m playing my Nintendo Switch, watching Knight Rider (that’s more recapturing, isn’t it?) and Doctor Who, cat-sitting, cooking, swimming, being engrossed by Ancient Egypt or creating pub quizzes. Oh, and I’m always counting down to Christmas.

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Voices

(On the stage is one man in a darkened room, the spotlight on him as he reads out both parts. He holds a neatly folded peace of paper in his hand.)

VOICE 1:

I hate this. The pain. When does it end?

VOICE 2:

It won’t. It’ll always be there, just like it should.

VOICE 1:

It shouldn’t! It’s been six months!

VOICE 2:

Yes, it should.

VOICE 1:

I’m not saying I don’t want to feel anything…

VOICE 2:

I know what you’re saying.

VOICE 1:

I just… I’ve had enough… I’ve had enough of saying goodbye to those I love.

VOICE 2:

They’re at peace…

VOICE 1:

(Sarcasm) They’re at peace.

I’ve never understood that whole “they’re no longer in pain” thing. He’s dead.

VOICE 2:

He was in pain for so long, you know that, he no longer has to suffer.

VOICE 1:

I know. Stop trying to use logic on me.

VOICE 2:

What else do you expect me to do? You’re the one who wanted my help.

VOICE 1:

It’s not like I have much choice.

VOICE 2:

Oh gee, thanks.

VOICE 1:

Stop taking it personally. It’s not possible for you to take things personally.

VOICE 2:

It’s your fault I’m the one you’re talking to instead of your friends.

VOICE 1:

They haven’t lost a parent. (Frustrated)

(A moment’s silence)

VOICE 1:

You’re right. I know you’re right. You’re always right. I hate that.

VOICE 2:

If I’m right then you’re right.

VOICE 1:

There’s that logic again. Okay yes, dad was in pain for a long time. Years. Then when mum died… it was like he’d just lost his reason to get better. He just… stopped.

VOICE 2:

And towards the end…? (Leading)

VOICE 1:

The last time I saw him in the home he was in good form, seemed so suddenly upbeat, he’d perked up. I thought he was on the mend. I was so happy for him and he seemed genuinely happy for the first time in a long time! Now… well, now I think he was happy because he knew he was going to see mum again soon. He hadn’t even seen her for the last six months of her life because they’d both been ill. Couldn’t go to her funeral either. The day they took him to the hospital he said nothing, just lay there and kept kissing his wedding ring. He knew.

VOICE 2:

If you believe that then you should believe what people say about him not being in pain anymore, about being at peace. And our pain, the pain both of us feel right now, is a small price to pay for their peace.

(A moment’s silence)

VOICE 1:

I don’t know if I should do this. Are these the right things to say?

VOICE 2:

He’d have loved to have heard this.

VOICE 1:

He should’ve heard it.

It’s strange, isn’t it? The random memories that come back when we lose someone we love. These stories though, are they the right ones?

VOICE 2:

That’s all we have in the end, just the stories we leave behind. The lives we touch while we are here, the people we leave behind.

VOICE 1:

(Looking at the piece of paper) Life lessons, he called them. I don’t think mum would’ve agreed. (Laughs inwardly)

VOICE 2:

Did you just smile…?

VOICE 1:

I can remember it so clearly, even though I was so young. Dad teaching me how to dust the house when mum was out by showing me which of her ornaments to swap about into the wrong places to just make it look like he’d done it. (Laughs outwardly but suddenly takes a deep breath) How do I get over this?

VOICE 2:

You don’t.

VOICE 1:

Oh here you go again.

VOICE 2:

Just listen. We’re not meant to get over loss. All we can hope is that we leave our loved ones with happy memories, each one that resurfaces making it that little bit easier to live with that loss. Your parents… our parents left us with an endless supply. You’ll be fine. But right now, grieve.

(A woman enters the room)

WOMAN:

Noel?

(The room lights up, replacing the spotlight and showing us the room, with Noel standing in the middle, alone)

NOEL:

Oh, hi Holly. Are they ready for me?

HOLLY:

Yes. You have your eulogy ready?

(He nods)

HOLLY:Are you sure you want to do this?

NOEL:

Holly, don’t hold back on telling people how you feel about them. Don’t leave it for their eulogy.

END