It was a hollow victory, Hugo thought as he tucked into his last meal. Now that the initial excitement of escaping the care home and boarding a plane to Switzerland had worn off, the stark finality of death began to sink in.
After all his dear friend Ron had done to help him – booking the Dignitas appointment, fetching his passport, lying to the staff and Hugo’s family, and driving him to the airport – he felt bad even thinking like this.
He paused to take a sip of wine, a Malbec that paired well with the beef stew. He’d always secretly loved plane food. Something about all the compartments appealed to his sense of orderliness. But still, he craved something… more. He’d expected to feel relief above all else. Relief that there would soon be an end to the pain and helplessness. Instead, he felt only regret. At all the things he’d wanted to do with his life that would never come to pass. All the adventures he’d never have. All the people he’d never meet.
Because the irony was, he hadn’t taken his meds since yesterday, yet he’d never felt more alive. What was it they said was wrong with him again? He couldn’t even remember. What if he wasn’t even ill? What if all that stuff was just a ruse to keep old people locked away?
Even the thought of being reunited with his beloved Celine didn’t provide the comfort he’d anticipated. He somehow knew that she wasn’t calling to him yet.
The woman beside him put down her cutlery and sighed. Strange. Hugo didn’t recall anyone sitting there before. He noticed now that the deep burgundy of her nail polish perfectly matched the red tones in her hair. And there was a familiar note in her perfume- patchouli? – that reminded him of Celine. He felt a sudden urge to speak to her.
“Regret your choice?” he asked, gesturing to the half-eaten plate of food.
She turned and gave a half-smile. “Je ne regrette rien,” she said, and as she looked at him, her green eyes danced and so did his heart. “Life’s too short for regrets, no? Are you travelling to Switzerland for business or pleasure?”
Hugo, mesmerised by her French accent, had hardly heard the question. “I don’t think I could call it either,” he said eventually.
“Intriguing. It sounds as though you haven’t made up your mind.”
“And you?” he asked, keen to change the subject. Suddenly he couldn’t bear to think about the plans that had preoccupied him for months.
There it was again, that glint in her eye. “Always pleasure.”
They sat in silence for a while, the air between them charged with possibility.
“You know, it might be possible to see the Northern Lights tonight in the place I’m going, in the mountains. It’s a rare sight in these parts. Care to join me?”
Hugo couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. Maybe there was time for more adventures yet…
