(040)
A canoe floats gently down the river, a passenger at either end.
“Let’s pull in here.” Hugo says from the front. “I gotta piss.”
They place their oars to the right in unison and the nose of the boat veers towards the bank, touching down in front of a sycamore tree. With a deftness honed through repetition Hugo hops onto land and pulls the boat in for Jonas to do the same. They lift the boat from the water together and Hugo dips behind the tree, undoing his belt on the way.
Jonas opens one of the waterproof satchels in the middle of the boat and removes a worn and sagging plastic bag, carrying it over to the water’s edge to take a seat. He rummages in the bag and pulls out a miniature baguette along with ham, cheese, cucumber and a blunt looking knife to help put it together. By the time Hugo saunters over and sits between him and the boat, waiting for the bag to be passed over, he’s close to having done so, but he stops and shoots Hugo a look, palms facing upwards.
“What?” Hugo asks.
Jonas gestures with one hand towards the water.
“Hands?” He says.
Hugo scoffs.
“You think that water is less likely to make you sick than my dick?”
“That doesn’t matter, if you were to ask which I’d prefer in my mouth then what do you think I’d answer?”
“Well…” Hugo squints.
“Hands. Please.” Jonas cuts him off.
With another scoff Hugo rocks himself forward to reach the water, slapping his palms down on the surface. The resulting wave misses Jonas but very nearly soaks the bag before he yanks it away.
“For fuck sake Hugo, you almost hit the food.”
Hugo laughs.
“It’s your sandwich you’re ruining.” Jonas snipes.
Hugo rolls his eyes, shaking his hands off and rocking back into a squatting position.
“Exactly! So why get so arsey about it?” He barks, the grin on his face twitching into a snarl.
“Yeah, well…I’m just saying.” Jonas says, setting the bag back down and adding the final touches to his lunch.
Hugo wipes his hands on his thighs and stands overlooking the water.
“It’s the last one anyway, so who cares.” He muses.
“Hmm?” Jonas says, not looking up.
“Before we’re back to the grindstone.” Hugo sighs.
“Mmm.” Jonas nods, revelling in his first bite.
“I saw this film recently – about vikings, and how their purpose in life was to find a glorious death in the battlefield.” Hugo says, turning to look at his friend. “You know, Valhalla and that?”
Jonas continues nodding and chewing, taking a second bite.
“So in the film the main character has gone through all this trauma and he’s this absolute beast because of it. Someone killed his father when he was a kid, and his mission is to kill him or to die trying – and obviously you want that for him – but along the way he also meets someone and has a baby with them, and they have the option to leave and go off and live their life together, but it’s one or the other…you know?”
Jonas nods when Hugo looks at him but otherwise busies himself with finding a packet of biscuits he’d left in the bag.
“And that moment when he has to choose…leave with them or go towards his possible and – spoiler – eventual death…I put myself in that position and…I got it. We spend our lives fighting to stay alive just to keep staying alive, only for death to eventually catch us whether we like it or not. I don’t know…the anticipation…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just dedicate your life to trying to end it, in a blaze of glory and that. Don’t you think?” Hugo looks at Jonas, who’s wiping crumbs off of his trousers.
“Um…” Jonas starts.
Hugo swivels on the spot and reaches into the canoe, collecting both oars and chucking one onto the grass beside Jonas, who flinches.
“Pick it up.” He says, raising his above his head.
“What are you on about?” Jonas frowns.
“Don’t make me hit an unarmed man.” He shouts, banging the oar against the boat, a crazed look in his eyes.
“Jesus! Careful!” Jonas cries.
Hugo raises the oar again, leaning his head back to roar into the sky.
“VALHALLA!”
He charges towards Jonas who lunges and swings the oar up to ward off his oncoming friend. A misjudgment in how fast Hugo is moving means he catches him in the side of the head and whips it sideways, sending Hugo into darkness.
.
infinite .
silent .
emptiness .
then .
a .
dull .
sense-of-panic .
that .
gnaws
and
nags
water
squelching burning
heavy
throbbing pain
coughing
coughing
coughing eyes sting
bright light
Jonas’s face fills Hugo’s vision, his lips pressed against his own, he pushes him away and rolls to his left to retch more water onto the grass, feeling it also running out of one ear as he does. A muffled sound reverberates in his head and slowly changes from a bassy rumble to something recognisable.
“What the fuck?” Jonas shouts between coughs of his own, “are you mental? What were you thinking?” He shoves Hugo, who brings his hand up to his throbbing cheek and the painful cuts inside.
“Fuck,” Hugo coughs, his voice hoarse from use, “you must have caught me good.” He tries to smile but winces at the pain.
“Seriously not funny, you almost fucking died– and almost killed me in the process.” Jonas stands and begins peeling his wet clothes off. “And hardly a fucking glorious way to go about it.”
Hugo exhales a laugh, led on his back.
“No Valhalla then?” He asks.
“No, no Valhalla.” Jonas snaps.
Hugo lays in the grass feeling his chest rise and fall, despite the occasional rattle of water in his throat. His body trembles slightly as the adrenaline works its way through him. Relief bubbles up into laughter and he writhes and convulses as he hacks it out.
“Sorry,” he wheezes, “I was just fucking around. I didn’t expect you to take my head off.”
Standing in his underwear Jonas throws his wet shirt at Hugo, cracking up a little in spite of himself.
“Thank god it ends today,” Hugo says as the laughs begin to subside, “one more day together, and you might actually kill me.” Another laugh slips out, but only one, and then he lays there breathing heavily and looking up into the sky, trying to ignore the quiet disappointment lingering at his core.
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