A time once remembered

"Excuse me?" I asked the nurse. She looked up from the chair beside my bed. "I was wondering if you could do me a favour? Two actually" I croaked. She smiled and nodded, getting up from the chair. " Could you get me a priest? Or someone I can confess my sins to? Oh, and a glass of water as well, if you'd be so kind. " My hand went to my throat. "Its very painful." She smiled again and made a quick exit from the room, leaving me all alone in the room. It was my hospital room, where they'd put me for the time being. Blank, lifeless would be the words I'd describe the place. Not that I made it any livelier, death swirls around me. I began to think of all that I would tell the priest. There was so much to talk about. The father finally arrived some minutes later with the nurse holding the glass of water. The priest bowed towards me. I nodded back. There wasn't much else I could do from the position I was in.

I gestured to the priest to take a seat next to me, which he dutifully did preparing himself for our conversation. I lay there, contemplating on what I should say. The nurse placed the water besides me, smiled, then quickly exited the room, leaving me alone with the priest.

"Well  to father, I am not sure where to begin " I coughed, took a sip of water, and continued. "You are a man of faith. There were times that I was... questioning of the faith. But now that I seem to have reached the end, I look back and begin to question why. Do you see what I mean father?" The priest sat thoughtfully for a moment.

"Everyone's faith is tested by the Lord. But he is not without mercy, for those that have sinned." I smiled at the priest. I knew of the Catholic faith and its beliefs, but to be told that all was not lost gave me a sort of... pleasant feeling.

"Father. I know you are a Godly man. For this reason, I ask you to take pity on me. I have not been of the Catholic faith but more critical of it. "The priest frowned at this. "But even if I have not been of your faith I just want to make my sins be heard by someone, a stranger." The priest looked hard at me for a moment, maybe thinking that this was some kind of joke. Finally he sighed, nodding.

"God would not turn away from someone willing to repent, so I will not turn away from you friend. But first God would ask your name."

"My name is Nathan Trojan, Father" I took a deep breath "and my life has been full of sins."



The priest was sat up straight, his full attention on me. It was... a slight surprise to have someone, anyone, interested in my life. I didn't know where to begin so I thought I start with my childhood and work my way up to the present. My childhood had been very tough, I told the priest. My family had never been earning much in the way of money and so we lived in the slums of London. It was grey, bland and it constantly smelt of smoke. A layer of grim would form over my skin every day, and it was only every three to four days that I got to wash it off. My school wasn't some extraordinary place of education but instead somewhere that had been built because the government demand we had at least an education until thirteen. My mother was a frail woman who had been malnourished since her childhood. She had brown hair, hazel eyes and had already developed a stoop by the time she was 34. I was eight by that time, a timid small child with a dirty face and a mop of hair. My father who I looked a lot like, was a man who always tried to see the bright side of things. He was a factory worker, a man of labour. He protected his family because it was all he had. After my eighth birthday, about a month later, my mother was going to give birth to another child. But this event went wrong and both child and mother died during the procedure. You must understand, I told the priest, that it was still a dangerous thing to do. After my mothers death, my father and I were all that was left. I was traumatized by this event, of course, and looked for someone who could possibly replace her. During this I found my friend Jonathan Taylor.

"Who was he?" The priest asked.

"Who is he you mean. He was and still is my true best friend. We've stayed beside each other throughout the years. As I was saying..." I told him how Jonathan and I went throughout London together keeping together. He had become family as far back as I can remember. His parents hadn't wanted him and father, even as poor as he was invited him into the family. I never wanted to leave Jonathan's side. Together we did the first sin of my life that I can remember. After my thirteenth year ended, I left school and my father demanded that I earned money to help keep us together and in a flat with a roof over our heads. Jonathan and I went out to try and find work and we found the profession of pickpocketing.

The priest nodded as if he'd heard this before. "My father wanted to know where this money was coming from and I said it was from one of the factories on the outskirts of the city. The factory owner took pity on me and Jonathan and was little generous. We never took too much so father didn't get suspicious." I told the priest, who nodded never losing concentration. "But it was one day when I was fifteen that I finally got caught. I can't remember the exact details, but I just remember that it was my fault. I never accepted it before, but deep down I knew it was my fault. I'm a coward" I whispered to the priest, who smiled sadly. "Jonathan got in a lot of trouble for it. In fact I didn't see him for another year. We kept away from pickpocketing, I guess you could say we got what we deserved."

"I guess you could. What was the next crime that you committed?" The priest asked.



"After that it wasn't till my eighteenth that I committed the next sin. You see, I was tired of living in those slums, watching people struggle to feed their families. It was Jonathan's idea, and because it was the only one we could think of, we chose it. You see this was 1970 and when we saw the news in one of those television shops, we immediately jumped at the idea." I started coughing again. I waited for it to pass before taking a small sip of water, and continued with my story. "You see the provisional IRA had started their campaign in Northern Ireland. The Catholic and protestant sides fighting once more for control" The priest bristled at this, thinking it a jab at his faith. I held up a weak hand to calm him. "You must forgive me. The campaign was long and gruelling and many lives were lost. It takes its toll on a person..." The IRA hadn't given up for thirty years, and during that time a total of 1700 people died. That's a lot for what we would normally call terrorist attacks, it was just like a war. Jonathan and I had joined up before we went home to tell our family. I had thought my father was going to be proud of me, but I forgot that I was his life. When I told him the news, he became furious, enraged at what I'd done. He demanded that I go back to the enlisting office and quit. I refuse of course, I said to the priest, I was too stupid and young. We had a fight, and I gathered my belongings and left. My father stood at the doorstep yelling after me. Pray for me, I yelled to him, pray for your quick end for you have nothing now that I've left.

"You said that to your own father?!" The priest asked, surprise written across his face.

"I was angry and scared at the same time. My father had no faith in my return and it scared me. Could you imagine what that feeling is? I can't even fully remember it, but I know I don't want to experience it again.

"Did he pray for you? Did you return?" The priest asked, almost on the edge of his seat.

"Yes he did. I survived the war and after four years on that godforsaken land, and return to my fathers house. But I returned to an empty house. The neighbours told me that my father was praying for me night and day. He had heard a rumour about my death, about how I..." The door opened to my hospital room and I watched Jonathan enter, still as fresh faced as he had been all those years ago. The priest looked at Jonathan, frowning and turned back to look at me.

"Carry on Nathan. You were talking about a rumour of your death?" I watched Jonathan sit on the window ledge and look at me. I shook my head and smiled before turning back to the priest.

"Err, yes He had heard a rumour about my death, about how I had died during an attack. They said he'd died of a broken heart and a was struck with grief. He had always been there for me and after that I was sure what to do. It was such a... a moment of panic. I tried to find his grave, I needed to find it. But it wasn't anywhere I knew, Jonathan didn't know either. He was just silent throughout." A tear trickled down my cheek, but I left it there, shamelessly. "I just never got to say goodbye, I feel that was my biggest sin and someone else paid for it." More tears began to streak my face. The priest held my hand gently and gave a sad smile. He seemed to have a tear in his eye as well. But Jonathan was still there, stone faced.



"Were there any sins you can remember at this time?" The priest asked quietly.

"No" I whispered back my bottom lip quivering.

"So what happened after this? Did you take over your fathers house?"

"No, I left that part of London, it brought back too many memories. I travelled west to the other side, where it wasn't as smoky and the air there wasn't polluted with tragic problems. I wanted to get away even further, but I couldn't afford it. I settled down immediately, keeping to myself. I bought a flat in a respectable part of London. Jonathan moved in with me as well, and together we started to recover from the war. I met a girl, a brunette with bright blue eyes. She had a smile that just seemed to take away all pain. We bonded together, and I was married. You'll be happy to know it was in a church "the priest laughed and I joined in, if only slightly. "She was kind my wife, but she didn't take a liking to Jonathan. She didn't hated him outright, but was worried what our friendship was doing to us, especially me."

"What do you mean? How can a friendship damage a person?" The priest asked .

"That's what I thought. How can you? But my wife thought so. I told her that I was fine many times. We stayed together for about fifteen years, Jonathan moved away which made her a bit happier and we lived a quiet life. She worked as a phone operator and I went into an office job of checking through piles of paper. But we were content and at peace. But nothing in my life seemed to stay quiet for long. I was 23 by the time of the beginning of our marriage and so after 15 years I was 38. It was a long and happy time. Until an incident that happened during my birthday. Someone that my wife had invited from my old contacts got me mixed up with Jonathan. A silly mistake as she'd had too much to drink. My wife didn't take kindly to this remark. I tried to laugh it off saying that it was an old joke we'd had, but the woman had insisted and then tried to prove I was Jonathan! Why to this day I find it ridiculous, but all things happen for a reason."

"What happened at this party?" The priest asked curiously.

"Oh I'd had too much to drink and in my panic I fled from the place. I got in the car and drove until the car stopped going from lack of petrol. I don't know why it was a stupid thing to do, and it hurt my wife a lot. I was thinking of returning, I mean why wouldn't I? But the Papers showed my wife's true views of me." I took a deep breath remembering the exact words which it said.

"What did the paper say?" the priest asked frowning. I lent over to my table cabinet and picked up a small box. Opening the lid I saw the paper I had bought that day after my wife had left me. I picked it up glancing at the other items then quickly closing the lid, and put it back. I handed the paper to the priest who took it delicately. I waited a few seconds as he searched to find what my wife had said.

"Read it out loud, I forgot what the exact wording was." I told the priest, who having located it, cleared his throat and began to read.

"Mrs Trojan told us that she found her husband to be erratic at times, and always seemed to be running from someone, or something. She told us that when he returned she would tell him she could not deal with what he was doing and a divorce may have to be the option..." The priest trailed off.

"You see? A divorce. She was going to abandon me having got rid of Jonathan. I felt 22 all over again, coming home to find no father. But lucky, someone appeared to help me."

"Jonathan." said the priest. I smiled.

"Yes, Jonathan. It was a huge stroke of luck, wasn't it Jonathan?" I asked him, still sitting on the window sill. He nodded. The priest was looking about the room before frowning at me.



"Jonathan and I travelled North to Manchester where we stopped and once more settled down. I didn't let anyone but Jonathan close to me, but he had to move on again. I was alone, but I didn't mind any more. Alone was what I wanted to be. Everyone round there were total strangers to me, not a familiar face in sight. For the first year, I stuck to my apartment as much as possible. I just felt betrayed by my wife and that she had done that to me. I then finally got a job and lived for another ten years in hiding. A few of the papers published articles about me but no one knew who I was in Manchester so they didn't press the matter. But it seemed London finally caught up with me again. All that smoke had damaged my vital organs. The doctors told me I didn't have long and I panicked once more. Death was coming towards me and... and I didn't have the courage to leave this world, to journey into that unknown. What if it was all just dark, what if..." I got myself too wound up and began to cough, even more violently than before. The priest picked up my water and I nodded my thanks. My chest heaved with the pain inside as the nerves tingled.

"So what happened after the news?" the priest asked sitting back down, Jonathan still sat there, looking straight at me.

"I fled. I tried to run away. Ha. It sounds stupid doesn't it, running from death. But I was so scared of the dark that I clung to the light. I didn't get far. In fact, I'd had it for so long that only about a month remained. That month reminded me of my father that lonely month that was to be his last. I wanted to go back to the beginning, to go back down to London." I said with a sigh. The priest was puzzling over something, and the room lay quiet for a few more moments before he spoke up again.

"What were you hoping to achieve by going back to London, coming back here?" he asked me, gazing upon my tired eyes. I looked at him for a moment then turned back to my small box of things. Picking it up, I handed it to him. He looked at it, then at me before finally grasping it in both hands. Opening it up he looked at the contents inside.

"Those things I kept for a reason. A journey must maintain some of its old parts before venturing out into the new." The priest gently lifted out each item and placed it in his lap. I watched him in silence as each was taken out. There was four items in total. The priest then lifted one out and looked at me, expecting an explanation.

"That there is my old money bag when I was pick pocketing. reliable enough, but it was the one that got Jonathan caught. He gave it to me as a reminder, but I don't know what of." The priest placed it back in the box, before picking up the next item. "That there is my mother's knitting back before she died. She liked to make clothing." The priest looked at it for a moment.

"Why does it say Jonathan?" I froze at this, forgetting what the answer was for a second.

"I told you, Jonathan became part of the family because his own didn't want him." The priest opened his mouth as if to say 'ohhhh'. He placed it back in the box as well and we continued with the items.



The next was my wedding ring. It sat dully in the priest's palm. I looked at it frowning.

"I kept that because despite what she did at the end, I still loved her and this was a small reminder of her."

"Do you Love her now?" I stopped. I didn't say anything. "Do you still love her?"

"Her? No, I... I don't. Not any more." I stuttered. Was I sure of that? The priest simply nodded and put it in the box as well. He picked up the final item left in his lap. It was a photo from Manchester and I remembered it well. I was stood all alone in the photo, with one of my arms stretched out as if hanging on someone's shoulders. The priest looked a it for a moment.

"Its just a photo. That one hasn't really got any meaning in London." The priest nodded. He put it in the box and closed the lid.

"Have you got any-more sins that you would like to repent? Any deeds you need cleansing of?" I thought for a moment but none sprang to mind.

"I have not father. Thank you for your time. God's servants are kind, no doubt you will be rewarded." The priest stood up and took a final bow. He gently placed the box down on the chair and began to leave. I watched him throughout this, his small journey out of my room. But he halted before he reached the door, and turned around to face me.

"One last question Nathan. Did anything happen in the war? Was there any event?" I blinked.

"No. It was only a long campaign and I was glad to leave after four years of it." I smiled to show I wasn't hiding anything. The priest nodded and slowly turned back around. That was when Jonathan finally spoke.

"Why do you deceive this holy man? What wrong has he done to you that you cannot tell the truth?" I looked over surprised at Jonathan.

"I have told the priest everything. Jonathan, there is nothing else to be said." I told my friend. The priest had stopped at the door and was now looking at me again. Jonathan's voice was rising.

"You have told nothing but lies and you know it. Stop lying to yourself and accept what you have done. All this time you have simply run away from your past. Even now with death so close you still cannot turn and face it. I was no friend of you!" I was deeply shocked.

"I...I have told no lies Jonathan. If there is a something I am lying about tell the priest himself and I will gladly accept. Why do you do this to me now? You haven't appeared for so long and now here you are, shouting at me!" I shouted at Jonathan. The priest had stopped leaving at was slowly re-entering the room. But I wasn't concentrating on anything but Jonathan. He began walking towards me.

"What happened on tour? What happened in the war that WE fought together? You were my comrade in that. You remember what happened."

"Nothing happened in the war Jonathan" I gritted my teeth. "It was just the constant threat of getting blown up that's all." Jonathan shook his head and stopped beside my bed. I looked up at him, with confusion written on his face.

"Its about time you remembered. It's not your place to forget." My mouth opened but nothing came out. The something happened that deeply shocked me. Jonathan began to change. His outline disappeared and his form morphed into a new shape. I gasped as the new shape's outline appeared.

"What is my name?" Before me stood a 22 year old dressed in a British soldiers uniform resting a rifle on his shoulder. "What is my name?" I opened my mouth and finally croaked out some words.

"Your Richard Newman. You were in the 9th rifle regiment." The soldier smiled and began to change again. Another soldier was stood in front of him now.

"What is my name?" He asked.

"Zac Loxray, 9th rifle regiment." Again the soldier smiled and began to change. The priest was now sat in the seat beside me once more, but I paid him now attention.

"What is my name?" The next soldier asked holding a medical back in his arms.

"Stephen Tratto. 9th rifle regiment". Once more the outline began to change. Before the soldier even had a chance to ask the question, I said "Lennon Black. 9th regiment." The soldier smiled once more and changed back to Jonathan.



"Who are they Nathan?" The priest asked once I remained quiet for more than a minute.

"They were my brothers in arms. We were patrolling and actually engaged in a gunfight. We weren't prepared for this and were hit badly. Those four men died and I was the only survivor. Pass me the box" The priest picked up the box and handed it to me. I pulled on the bottom and it came off. Out fell a medal. The priest picked it up. "That's a medal for my bravery and effort in beating back that attack. Do you know what actually happened?" The priest shook his head. "I dived below a low wall and lay there, crying. I listened to my team cry for help and scream and each was shot. And I just lay there, unable to move. That's my ultimate sin." The priest nodded slowly as he took this in. I hung my head in dismay as it all cam back to me, hidden under layers of lies I'd told myself. But Jonathan was still stood next to me unmoving.

"But I don't understand who you are then? If your nothing but someone a remember inside my head that I picture you who are you?" The priest looked up, but realised I wasn't talking to him.

"What is my name?" He said.

"Jonathan." I immediately replied unsure of the question. Jonathan shook his head.

"What is my name?" he asked once more. My first instinct was to say Jonathan once more but something nagged inside me. "What is your name?" He then asked. I looked inside the box and poured out the four items once more. Why had I come back to London with these four items? "Who are we?" He asked.

"Are you ok Nathan?" The priest asked. I looked at each of the items, and then remembered all of the story I had told the Priest. :



'During this I found my friend Jonathan Taylor.'



Who was he? The priest had asked.



He had become family as far back as I can remember. His parents hadn't wanted him and father, even as poor as he was invited him into the family. I never wanted to leave Jonathan's side.



I finally got caught. Jonathan got in a lot of trouble for it.



Jonathan and I had joined up before we went home to tell our family



My father stood at the doorstep yelling after us. Pray for Nathan, I yelled to him, pray for your quick end for you have nothing now that we've left.

"You said that to your own father?!"



He had heard a rumour about my death, about how I had died during an attack. They said he'd died of a broken heart and a was struck with grief.



"I just never got to say goodbye, I feel that was my biggest sin and someone else paid for it."



but she didn't take a liking to Jonathan. She didn't hated him outright, but was worried what our friendship was doing to us, especially me."



"How can a friendship damage a person?"



got me mixed up with Jonathan. A silly mistake as she'd had too much to drink. My wife didn't take kindly to this remark. I tried to laugh it off saying that it was an old joke we'd had, but the woman had insisted and then tried to prove I was Jonathan! Why to this day I find it ridiculous.



in my panic I fled from the place. I got in the car and drove until the car stopped going from lack of petrol



Mrs Trojan told us that she found her husband to be erratic at times, and always seemed to be running from someone, or something.



But it seemed London finally caught up with me again.



This all made sense to me now. I had tried running from death. But I was so scared of the dark that I clung to the light. I didn't get far only to a hospital in London. In fact, I'd had it the cancer for so long that only about a month remained. I had tried to run from death because this person. Me. Or at least the me I had been trying to be... was already dead. That month, up until now, had reminded me of my father, that lonely month that was to be his last. Why? Because his son name had died and so a rumour about his death had come about. I wanted to go back to the beginning, to go back down to London, because I had wanted to find out who I truly was, not what I had pretended to be. The four items in my hand now, had been kept as a reminder from my subconscious self, to show me who I truly was. My mothers knitting had been my mothers, but instead the knitting was addressed to a person I didn't want to be. But I could never be truly someone else for my mother and so it has my real name on it. The old money bag I had been the one caught but Jonathan had been in trouble. That was a lie I had told myself both had been me, being caught and in trouble. My wedding ring. The papers said my wife thought I had been running from someone or something, but it had been my past. The vows of a wedding are the two names put forward. By name, I was not married to my wife, and so I was the one who had betrayed her, not the other way around. Finally the picture. I had been with my best friend. But The camera cannot capture what I had wanted it to capture, and so I stand alone instead of what I had thought was besides someone else, arm over their shoulders.

"Who are we?" The voice sounded at the end of my train of thought. I looked into that familiar face, that I would so have happily called Jonathan, and took a deep breath. "Your name is Nathan Trojan. I am Jonathan Taylor." Nathan smiled for the first time in a long while. It was good to see my old friend smile.

"Sorry what Nathan?" The Priest asked. I turned to look at him in my hospital bed.

"My name is not Nathan. I did not mean to lie but I veiled the truth from myself. My true name is Jonathan Taylor." I explained to him how at the beginning of the fire fight, Nathan had been hit by a bomb in the road. His face, mangled, was recognizable and to hid from what he had done he took his friends identity and his name replaced Nathan's. Throughout his life he pretended to be this person that he was not and it had caused pain to many people, but mostly to himself. The heartbeat monitor had begun to slow throughout this explanation and now I turned to look at it. "It seems my time is upon me. Its funny, that after all this right at the end of my life, I find my true self and now I am no longer scared of finding out what's beyond this life. This seems to have been the more painful, but rewarding journey. Thank you for putting my mind at rest." The priest smiled at me. I turned to look at the smiling Nathan. "I will be joining you soon old friend, just don't leave my side this time, we always do things together. Oh and one more thing, dear father." It was getting harder to breath and speak now. "Could you possible place that medal on Nathan's grave. He deserves it more than me. And give this ring to my once was wife. Tell her, that faith in people is as important as faith in God."