Sunset Phonecall

Was it five years ago? 

I think it was. 

Sunset on a summers’ night and a phone call from a stranger.

He was sat in a car, near a beach and it was clear he had been crying.

I could tell he was young, perhaps thirty.

He had a clear English accent almost devoid of local lilt or twang.

He told me he was a teacher but refused to give me his name.

I worked so hard on that phone call. 

I kept him engaged and I listened. 

And he talked so sadly about how he felt and how much he wanted to die.

His class had scored poor marks in their A levels and he felt a failure.

He had felt a failure all of his life.

For an hour he talked and he even laughed when I asked him to share with me what music he had listened to in the car. 

He didn’t know that I was sensing I was losing him and that I was playing every trick in the book to keep him talking.

I heard him open the blister pack of tablets and he admitted he was piling them on the passenger seat

My colleague mouthed are you ok from her booth and I shook my head. She came over to listen on the spare headset and jotted down ideas to help.

They helped, the man talked a little more.

We talked about the nice things in his life, his friends, his family but he grew sad when the sunset finished and he told me it was almost dark.

I asked if we could call him at another time , to support him, to listen, but he refused politely

I listened as he took a few of the pills.

And he cried a bit more 

Before gently ending the call with a click.

My colleague blocked all further calls and brought me a coffee and a hankie and 

I ate some chocolate digestives and I cried a little

Cried in frustration and for the futility and waste of it all.

I will always remember that call