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  Jenny grabbed Kyle with all her might and wept loudly.

  “—an accompanist...to help...you...warm up?” Kyle said sheepishly, but instantly knew something had happened and so he returned his newfound love’s embrace and held her as tight as he could.

  “What’s wrong, Jenny? What’s wrong?”

  13. PRESENT DAY – AT THE HOTEL

  “Just say something, Mr. Robert,” Amir said, smiling. Robert was now sitting in the centre of the stage. Amir had just hooked up a microphone that came alongside Robert’s right cheek. The skin-coloured microphone was attached and secured on Robert’s ears, sitting just like a pair of glasses would but with the wire going behind the head instead of over the nose.

  Robert vacantly looked out into the room. It seemed larger now from the stage. There had to be about fifty tables with at least eight chairs around each. All the tables were covered in white tablecloths and decorated with floral centrepieces. Each table had two clear glass water jugs and tall drinking glasses. A pen and a pad of paper had been provided in front of every chair. A dozen hotel staff members were running about setting up while Greg was animatedly speaking to the hotel’s head guy and giving him instructions.

  “Mr. Robert, sir, please, I need to check your level,” Amir said patiently.

  “Yes,” Robert said robotically. “I am sitting on the stage with the Leaning Tower of Pisa behind me and...” Robert glanced at the huge clock hung over the door, “it is nine-thirty.”

  “Mr. Robert, sir, can you just pull your mic away from your face a little?” Amir gestured to Robert, showing him how to do it. Amir was sitting to the side of the stage behind a table with a soundboard, four iPods and the computer Monique had set up.

  Robert tugged a little at the microphone, bending the flexible metal attachment a little farther from his cheek. “Okay, how’s that?”

  “Yes, perfect. Thank you with all kindness, Mr. Robert,” said Amir.

  “Thanks, Bobby,” Monique said, coming to stand beside Amir at the sound table.

  Robert said nothing to either one of them. He just sat there, staring blankly out into the room, listening to the clinking and clanging noise the staff made as they set up the hall.

  “How does the screen come down, Amir, for all our projections?” Monique asked. She had done a set up like this numerous times and was pretty sure she knew how it worked. But after Robert’s little outburst at the stairs earlier, she found concentrating on the set-up was helping to calm her nerves a little.

  “Ah, watch this, my dear!” Amir stood up, walked to the wall and pressed a button. A huge white screen came down about twenty feet behind Robert and stopped about three feet above the floor.

  “Great, can we check out some of our visuals?” Monique asked as she went to the computer and opened up a program.

  “Just press play.” Amir smiled.

  “Okay, this is Robert’s intro,” Monique said.

  The screen went dark blue and, as the sound of trumpets filled the air, the screen came to life: first with the name “ROBERT SANCHEZ”, which dissolved slowly into a photo showing the magnificence of Mount Everest. As the drums started building, it seemed as if the mountain was coming closer and closer to the audience and then, just as the oboes sounded, the mountain turned into a picture of Robert, who was standing on the edge of a frightening and jagged glacier and smiling the smile of a conquering hero. His dark sun goggles were flipped onto his forehead, his hair tossed by the wind. Robert was dressed in a red winter jacket and pants with bright yellow boots that came almost to his knees. Just as the piano, clarinets, flutes and a harp joined in, a colourful collage of photos danced across the screen in time with the music. Robert clinging to the side of a frightening ice fall with his ice pick dug in, Robert scaling a precarious 90-degree ledge of ice, a dramatic shot of Robert walking across a ladder that bridged a deep hollow pit of what looked to be a snowy grand canyon.

  As each picture filled the screen, it would then crack like ice and fracture into many other smaller, more dangerous looking photos of Robert’s mountain adventures. Then, as the cornets, trombones, bassoon and what sounded like a huge timpani drum played, the screen started to fill with multiple pictures of Robert in other parts of his life: some of Jenny appearing with the words “the Father” and Monique with “the Husband and Partner” followed by photos of Robert with huge groups of teenagers and younger students in what looked like school gymnasiums.

  The last picture was one of Robert with a small group of children of different ages and diverse nationalities. Slowly the camera closed in on Robert, focusing on his colourful orange T-shirt, which read “QUEST-I’m-ON”. Soon the screen was left with only the word QUEST, which then faded into a stunning mountaintop high amongst the clouds.

  And just as the unmistakeable music of John Williams came to its majestic end, Robert wheeled around and faced the screen. It was at that precise moment that the irony hit him with a sickening thud.

  This music, he thought, the music Monique picked for this intro was from the sound track of Superman. His head sank to his chest when his mind captured the image—not of Christopher Reeve playing Superman and flying mightily in the sky to save the day, but rather of the Christopher Reeve sitting tied into a wheelchair with an oxygen tube coming out of his neck—the Superman who had become a quadriplegic after a horseback riding exhibition.

  Amir stood up and clapped. “Wow, that is great! Just amazing, Mr. Robert!”

  Robert didn’t move. Monique looked at her husband, sitting in that wheelchair, facing the screen with his head down on his chest. Maybe he can’t do this today? she thought.

  Never before had this question been asked! Although Robert had withdrawn from the world and became distant, Monique still never questioned if Robert actually had the strength to do something.

  Even after seeing her husband in the hospital, grimacing in excruciating pain after the accident, even before the first surgery to amputate his right leg and even that night when he came home broken and sobbing because one of his students had committed suicide, she had never questioned Robert’s unique will and fortitude. No matter what happened, Monique had always seen Robert resiliently and passionately push forward.

  She had believed so strongly in her husband’s strength to battle any adversity that even when Doctor Alman had thought maybe one leg could be saved, despite the devastating condition of both of his legs, Monique was adamant that the doctor be frank with Robert and not give him false hope.

  But this morning, seeing Robert sitting in his wheelchair—a dark silhouette sitting in front of the mountain on the screen, the same mountain that took his legs—she thought he looked so small. His slumping shoulders only revealed a man who was defeated and hopeless.

  She now needed to cling to Doctor Alman’s response to her when she told him not to give Robert false hope. The doctor had quietly pulled her aside as the nurse took some blood from Robert.

  “Mrs. Sanchez, forgive me for saying this. I know you want me to be truthful. And of course I will, but I believe that no matter what, it’s important to always encourage, to always give the hope of good news, regardless of how bad it might turn out. Because, Mrs. Sanchez, it’s been said that human beings can live for a month without food, a whole week without water, but we will most likely only survive a minute without hope.”

  And today, seeing the only man she had ever loved look so beaten, Monique closed her eyes and prayed that that minute had not yet passed. But lately, she felt hope was hiding in some other room and quickly sealing the door shut. And so, she thought she had better do something soon, before that door was locked up completely.

  14. 10 WEEKS AGO – SEEMA’S OFFICE

  Seema opened her laptop, typed something and within a couple of seconds, her office was filled with the sound of Claude Debussy’s Clair de Lune. She always played this music when she needed to calm herself and now she definitely felt the need to quiet her nerves. Today was going to be the first day she would see
Roberto Sanchez after his operation.

  She stood up and leaned her head against the window. She let out a sigh, which fogged the glass. As she wiped it clear with the end of her scarf, she could see that a young girls’ soccer match was happening outside. Such a force of might and will! Such abandonment of joy expressed! No one was thinking, just doing, just being—being part of a game. It was all so beautifully simple.

  A knock at the door startled her momentarily. She quickly muted the sound on her computer and wrapped the dark green scarf from her shoulders over her head.

  “Yes, come in,” she called out.

  The door opened. It was Benny. He was alone.

  “I just came up to warn you about Mr. Sanchez.”

  “Warn me, Benny? Why would you need to do that?”

  Benny anxiously swayed back and forth as he spoke. “Well, Seema, maybe ‘warn’ is not the word, exactly. It’s just, Robert...I’ve seen him three times since the operation, and—Well...well, he just doesn’t talk. He doesn’t say a word. As a matter of fact, it’s like he’s a zombie or something. He just doesn’t respond to anything...and I mean anything. Can’t explain it. Just stares like he is looking through the walls.”

  “I’m sure we have seen this behaviour before, Benny.”

  “I don’t know, Seema, I’m not sure. I have been working here at the centre for a long time now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look like this.”

  “What do mean, Benny? Look like what?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it exactly, but it’s weird. I’m sorry, I just wanted to tell you before I bring him up to you. I guess you can see for yourself.”

  Seema gave Benny a concerned smile. ”Thank you, Benny. You can go get him now.”

  Benny shrugged his shoulders and exited the office. “Okay, just thought I should tell you.”

  Seema sank into her chair. She was just about to un-mute the sound on her computer, but quickly stopped herself. It wasn’t Debussy or calming she needed now. It was ideas. She knew she had seen this behaviour Benny was speaking about before. Benny had too. Then Robert’s silent ways must be more profound than either of them had ever seen. She leaned back in her chair, looking at the ceiling, stretched out her arms and let out a long mournful sigh.

  She sat up as Benny rolled Robert into the room.

  “Okay, here you are, Robert. I’ll be back for you in half an hour. Thirty minutes, is that okay?”

  Robert didn’t respond. His eyes stared without blinking. Seema couldn’t help but notice how much Robert resembled one of those homeless war veterans she often saw on her way to work. He looked as if he had not slept in months. His greasy hair was uncombed and it looked like he had not shaved for days. Benny was right, she thought. It wasn’t like he was depressed and didn’t want to communicate. He just wasn’t there! It was as if he wasn’t even in the same room, much less the same planet as her.

  “It’s okay, Benny, we will see you in thirty minutes,” she said. Benny sadly lifted his arms as if to say “good luck because I didn’t have any” and left the room.

  Seema stood up, walked to the door and closed it. As she stood at the door, wondering what to do, Robert’s move surprised her. His hands clutched the wheels of his chair and then he rolled himself to the window.

  She cautiously walked towards Robert, who was just staring out the window. She noticed the soccer game was finished and the schoolyard was now empty except for a woman walking her two dogs. The woman had unleashed her pets and threw a couple of tennis balls, which the dogs furiously ran after and then returned to their master, dropping the balls at her feet. The dogs then sat there—anxiously waiting, trembling inside their skin with such a pent up excitement to chase after the ball again. Seema couldn’t help but notice that it looked like they were going to explode if the woman didn’t throw the ball immediately.

  Seema moved to the edge of her desk, sat down behind Robert and watched the dogs repeat the task over and over again.

  “It’s incredible, isn’t it, the way those dogs sit there? They seem to have that same intensity every time, don’t they? They act as if it will be the first time they ever chase that ball.”

  Robert did not respond to her comment.

  The couple of times Seema looked at him, the same thought of Robert’s smallness annoyed her. Of course, she thought. That huge white cast protruding out is no longer there. Or is it that he now has a larger wheelchair? He just looks so much smaller.

  Contrary to what Benny had said earlier about Robert never saying a word, it was Robert who broke the silence.

  “Look at them—those dogs. Must feel good to them. They chase that ball as if they’ve finally found their true purpose in life.”

  Seema waited to see if he would add to his comment before responding.

  But Robert never spoke again.

  A few minutes later, the dogs’ owner leashed her dogs and walked away. And for the rest of the session, the two of them sat staring out the window, not breathing a word.

  The dead quiet of the room was interrupted by Benny’s knock at the door.

  “Well, Roberto, time to get ready, your wife will be here soon.”

  Robert turned the wheelchair around to face Seema, but never lifted his head to catch her eyes. Benny manoeuvred himself behind Robert to push him out of the office, but Robert grabbed the wheels of his chair firmly and pushed himself forward and out the door before Benny could touch him. Benny followed him out, but then popped his head back in.

  “How did it go, Seema?” he whispered. “He didn’t say anything, did he?”

  Seema didn’t turn to Benny right away. But when she did, her face was filled with a questioning glance.

  “Not a word, eh?” Benny sadly shook his head.

  “No, he spoke,” Seema said, still deep in thought.

  “No! Really?” Benny took a step inside the office. “I knew it! I knew if anyone could get him talking, you could. I know you can’t tell me what you talked about but—”

  “It’s all right, Benny, he only said one thing. We were watching a woman in the schoolyard play fetch with her dogs and then he said something about the dogs, like...it was as if they had finally found their only purpose in life.”

  “That’s it? Nothing else?”

  Seema shook her head.

  “What d’ya think he meant by that? Does it mean anything?” Benny asked, scratching his head.

  “I’m really not sure, Benny. I really don’t know, but Robert was studying those dogs go after that ball as if it was the first time in his life he had ever seen that happen.”

  “Yeah, that’s it! Yeah, Seema, that’s what I was trying to tell you before. He seems to look at everything like he’s never seen it before. Kinda strange...like...” Benny turned his head in thought. “Yeah, that’s it! It’s like he’s some kind of alien who’s come to earth and—Ah, I’m not sure, but something like that.”

  “Like he has never been here before, Benny?” Seema asked.

  15. PRESENT DAY – JENNY’S RESIDENCE

  Jenny sat directly in front of Kyle at the kitchen table, clenching her hands as she spewed out every dreadful thought and concern she had for her father.

  “And, Jenny, you believe because of—well, this talk, you think he...he might...” Kyle’s words stumbled out and he couldn’t finish the sentence, but they both knew the next words were “kill himself.”

  In that silence, Jenny just sadly nodded and nodded.

  “But, Jenny—I mean...everything you have told me about your dad, I think, well, I mean of course he’s going to be depressed—and...nobody knows him better than your mom, and if she thinks him doing this talk is going to help him, well—”

  “—He sent me his journal, Kyle! Today! Why today of all days? You know, I never thought about it. When my mom spoke about it, it sounded like it was the right thing but now—I mean, think about it; him having to be on that stage, talking about climbing mountains and now he’s sitting in a wheel
chair. He’ll be so—Oh, he’s giving up. I know it, I just have this horrible feeling, Kyle, that...that he’s giving up!”

  Kyle reached over and pulled Jenny closer to him. “Jen, Jen, you don’t know that for sure. When my dad found out he had cancer, he went into some kind of depression for over a year until he actually started to deal with it. I mean, your dad—It’s only been six months and look what he had to deal with.”

  “But Kyle, I just don’t know anymore! And it’s not like he’s even my dad now, it’s like he’s somebody else...like somebody else took over his—Oh God!”

  Jenny dropped her head on the table and started to cry. Kyle delicately stroked her hair, “Okay—So you called your mom and she didn’t answer. Is there anyone else you can call to help?”

  Jenny kept her head down, shook it back and forth. Kyle gently lifted her up and kissed her forehead.

  “What time is the presentation Jenny?” asked Kyle.

  “Twelve-thirty,” Jenny replied in a small, tearful voice.

  “Come on, get dressed. Let’s go!” Kyle said in a positive, take-charge kind of way as he stood up. “It’s nine-thirty; we have less than three hours to get to your father.”

  “How, Kyle? How?” Jenny’s sniffing voice pleaded with Kyle, hoping that he could maybe instill the situation with some hope.

  “My uncle, Daniel, works at the small city airport for Fastjet Airline. They have planes that leave every hour on the half hour to where your parents live. If we can get that ten-thirty flight, it’s a forty-five-minute trip so we’ll be there in plenty of time to get to the hotel and—”

  Jenny wiped her eyes and shook her head in bewilderment at Kyle’s knowledge of flights and times. “—Do you have another job I don’t know about? Because that sounded like an advertisement.”

  “Do you think it will work?” Kyle asked.

  “Oh yes, yes, Kyle!” Jenny joyously jumped up. “Wait!” She landed, frozen on the spot, but still swaying slightly from side to side like a sprinter waiting for the starting pistol to go off.