X - The Departure

 

Leonardo wakes up to the sound of the alarm clock ringing, and has to hit the snooze button three times until he can finally gather the strength to finally get out of bed. Then the hot shower helps him to wake up; he enjoys the feeling of the warm torrent of water falling on top of him, the water drops sliding down his back, the steam that permeates the room. He also enjoys the sound of the water descending in its constant rhythm, keeping the outside world at bay. He’s alone with his thoughts, which today are numerous and intense.

He gets out of the shower and dries himself off with his blue towel. Then he shaves his beard and brushes his teeth. While he puts on his blue jeans and a black T-shirt, he also starts to pack his bags. The truth is, there isn’t that much to pack since besides for his laptop and a Swiss army knife Leonardo doesn’t have any personal belongings. He throws those two items in his big traveller backpack along with some clothing a couple of novels: Jack Kerouac’s On The Road and Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.

When the packing is done he looks around the semi-empty bedroom one last time before he leaves. A few posters hanging up on the walls are the only visible things of his left. One is an image of Batman encircled by bats, watching over his beloved city, Gotham. The other is an image of another super-hero, Spider-Man the web crawler, slinging his webs over Manhattan’s skyscrapers. An inscription says: ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ The third poster reminds him of the day he met Jean-Pierre, it’s an image of Professor X and his X-Men. The fourth poster shows a smiley Tyler Durden holding a soap bar with the letters Fight Club inscribed in it. On the upper left corner of the image black letters spell ‘Use soap’. The last poster, the biggest of all, is a map of the world. That was always his favorite one.

He walks through the city one last time taking in the morning breeze at each step. As he sees them, he silently says goodbye to the places that defined his experience as a student in Leeds: The Eldon, his favorite pub; The Parkinson Steps, the most famous building on campus and rendezvous point to its students; or The Light, the mall where he hung out with his friends so many times.

As he finally enters the coach station he immediately checks the departures noticeboard. ‘Gate nº3’ it says. So he walks towards it with decisive pace until, unexpectedly, he sees a girl with big amber eyes waiting by the gate starring at him intensively. He stops for a second, unsure of what to do and then, without knowing how else react, he starts walking towards her. As he gets closer, he realizes that she is crying.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asks, surprised.

‘I… I talked to Jean-Pierre. He didn’t wanna say anything but I squeezed it out of him. I had to see you before you left.’

‘…Why?’

‘Because I love you.’

‘…’

‘Please don’t go. Or… or go, but at least tell me where you’re going and tell me that you’re coming back. At least give me some hope.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘Please… tell me something at least.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Leonardo turns his back on her and walks away. ‘It’s not fair!’ She cries at him. He wishes he could turn around and face her glance but he isn’t capable of doing so. He doesn’t want to see the tears dropping down her cheeks or her expression of sadness, mixed with anger. So he doesn’t turn around and, step after step, she becomes more distant. He hopes that she can find the strength to forget him.

            He goes into the bus and as he does so he looks back one last time, only to see that she’s not there anymore, she’s gone forever. 

            As the bus moves further and further away from Leeds deeper into the English countryside, Leonardo nests deeper in the leather seat, thoughts and feelings racing up and down his mind.

            He searches in his backpack for one of the two novels that he brought along. He has read them both countless times over, but now both seem more relevant than ever.

            The relevance of Kerouac’s defining work is too obvious to be explained. Huxley’s masterpiece reminds him of how his generation inherited a society governed by the pursuit of pleasure, full of people wishing to be entertained in order to fill the voids in their boring, repetitive, every-day lives. Yet his fingers finally come across an even more pertinent volume, a brand new notebook. It’s a moleskin notebook with horizontal lines, white pages and a black hard cover. The kind frequently used by Hemingway in the early-twentieth century Parisian streets and cafes. It’s the notebook of a writer begging to be filled up with words. He decides to grant it its wish and, after pulling a pen from his pocket he writes:

Traveller’s Log. First entry: The Departure.

                 

Ahead lies the road to the unknown. A mysterious destiny awaits me at it’s end. I do not know what I will find. I don’t even know exactly what I’m looking for. Yet, this “thing” burns deep inside my chest. I cannot ignore this urge that drives me away from safe shores. It’s my fate to wonder, it is my nature to be a wanderer. Like a Samurai without a master, I’m a citizen with no country. I don’t belong anywhere except here, on the road. Behind lies safety, friendship, maybe even love. I leave behind me the ones that I care for and the place that was my home for so long. Yet this is not my choice, it is nature at work. It is the animal inside me.  End of the first entry.

The Traveller is Listening to:
Despair in the Departure Lounge (Arctic Monkeys, 2006)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLS8ffCYN80