(019)
Mark locks his phone and drops it in the open satchel at the foot of the tree, glancing through weary eyes at the dark clouds gathering above him. The forecast had predicted sun, but the threat of rain was ever growing. He tugs on the tattered yellow slackline that stretches 30m across the grass between two trees, segmenting a group of tired looking faces against the water.
“Okay guys, head over towards me!” He bellows, ducking under the wire and standing with his legs apart and hands together, awaiting the sleep-addled and disinterested figures to shuffle across the field. He radiates a smile that hides the panic in his heart. The words from the text still echo in his mind.
“I’m so sorry.”
“As you all know,” he begins, sweeping his eyes across them and gesticulating in a way that seems rehearsed, “part of your rehabilitation involves learning the skills to be able to handle what life throws at you without slipping back into your old habits. It is my job to teach you those skills.” He smiles, but no-one smiles back.
“You are probably all wondering then, why I have this set up.” He steps to the side and gestures at the flat nylon rope behind him.
“With this we will learn about impulse control and how to become comfortable with being out of control.” Mark says, ignoring the first drops of rain that have begun to fall. The group, however, do not, looking up at the sky and away from him. Echoes reverberate in the lull of concentration.
“I wish it hadn’t happened.”
“You have to believe me.”
He slaps his hand on the wire and it vibrates in a staccato rhythm like a guitar string.
“In life you will often feel as if you are not in control, which you of all people know too well.” He laughs and a few of them exhale through their nose in response. “And in those situations, it can be very tempting to hit the ‘fuck it’ button and let go of responsibility.” He puts one foot up onto the cable and pulls himself up against the tree.
“Diving into the abyss can be tempting for everyone. The urge to stop fighting it from creeping in at the edges can be overwhelming. You’re convinced you will fall, so why not jump, right?” He surveys their faces again from his new platform, this time finding some nodding engagement.
“What I want you to do today is not to jump. No matter how much your mind tells you you can’t stay on, you have to prove to yourself that you can. You have to tell yourself ‘no’”
He turns his body to face across the divide, his back leaning against the tree. The rain now falls in earnest and the group gather around him under the branches to take cover from it.
Mark takes one big inhale to set himself, trying to quiet his mind.
“Please forgive me.”
The line dips beneath his weight as he takes his first step, bucking and fighting to shake him off. The rainfall blinds him and his feet slide against the slick flat cable, searching for purchase.
“No.” He growls, taking another step away from the safety of the tree and further out into the downpour.
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