THREADS

I was there when the Universe was created. I have made galaxies with my own hands and
built planets out of nowhere. I have raised humanity and, without you noticing, I was there,
causing wars and love stories that will remain in history.
Many of you believe that your future lays in my hands, whereas some of you have tried to
fight against me, but are you sure that your life belongs to you or that I am undefeatable?
No matter how long I have been there, I am always amazed by you, humans, and your way
to perceive your own existence; believing that you are alone when actually my only job is to
link your lives.
The threads which linked Kamala Byron to reality were there before she was born. Kamala’s
parents had run into each other in different places, and, since the first time I saw them, I
knew they were meant to be.
Kamala’s mother, a few years after she moved from India, fell in love with a fair wealthy
British gentleman, who in the future turned out to be Kamala’s dad. At first, her family was
against the marriage, but when they discovered that he belonged to the Byron family, known
by their huge fortune, they accepted with the only condition that their children would have to
follow the Indian tradition. That is how Kamala ended up being engaged at the age of four
with someone that she would not meet until the day of the wedding.
The environment that surrounded Kamala made her spend a lot of time alone since her
parents were not around her when she needed them. Nevertheless, in exchange, she could
do everything she wanted. While her parents were away for business, she would plan parties
with the most popular people at university and let herself try every single substance that got
into her hands.
But what people did not know was that she had two secrets. The first and most hidden one
was her passion to listen and to write music. The songs she composed expressed her
deepest thoughts and hidden feelings towards existence and when she wrote, she felt the
ink leading the pain out of herself. The second one, which she had buried deep within her
mind and had never shared with anyone, was her idyllic conception of life. Her motto was:
go on your path, even if you live for a day. She dreamt of living fully while she was young
and was disgusted by the idea of the old age, so she scheduled her life to be as exciting as
possible and planned her early death thoroughly.
Her mind had not changed even when I connected her thread with Evan Jean-Paul’s. The
first time they noticed each other was in their introductory session of creative writing class.
After forty minutes that seemed like an eternity to Evan, the teacher changed the subject.
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—So now I want all of you to write the first thing that comes to your mind; a poem, a tale,
anything —said the teacher while taking her glasses off—. You have fifteen minutes.
A few minutes later, someone in the class raised their hand.
—Mrs. Achebe, may I read my piece?
The teacher nodded and tapped the table, so the bold person would join her in the middle
of the room. Evan followed the voice and saw a brunette and swarthy girl, who looked as if
she hadn’t sleep in a while. The girl made her way down to where the teacher was, cleared
her voice and started reading.
—You, who called me from the darkness with your love —she took a deep breath—. With
bright light that can only come from the darkness, you stood before me and smiling like a
wildflower…
For a brief moment, she looked up from her paper, and Evan’s and Kamala’s gazes crossed.
Her voice ricocheted, making the whole class lend an ear to her words, the meaning of which
made everyone hold their breath, and specially, reached Evan’s core.
When she finished reciting, the class was over and everyone picked their things up, but
Evan, who took his time waiting for a chance for Kamala and him to meet in the way out
and, luckily, exchange a few words.
Kamala wore her headphones, passed by his side without looking at him and continued her
way to the next class. Evan hurried up trying to reach her and, when he finally was standing
behind her, he touched her back. Kamala turned around and took her headphones off.
—Hey… This could sound a bit weird, but I was wondering if we could talk for a moment —
he panted as if he had been running, he took a deep breath—. Oh sorry, I haven’t introduced
myself. I am Evan —he said.
—Okay, Evan, so... what do you want to talk about? —she chuckled while she walked into
the classroom.
Evan was about to answer her question but he suddenly realized that he was not in his class.
He then proposed to meet after the classes were over so they could talk and, if it was
possible, to go together in their way home. Kamala was intrigued so she accepted his
propose.
When the classes finished, Kamala was waiting for him at the university front door.
—Everybody's talking 'bout the way you left your man, so wave goodbye and… —she
hummed.
—Everybody's talking 'bout the way you held his hand —continued Evan when he
recognized the song.

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—You know that song? You sure have a good taste in music. But tell me... Evan, right? By
the way, I am Kamala, Kamala Byron. So, what did you want to talk about? —she said. Her
charming mood captivated him so much that he was not able to reply immediately.
—I just… you got everyone’s attention while you were reciting your poem and, uhm... I only
wanted to learn about you. You have something special —he blurted and, after having
realized what he just said, blushed. Evan did not know how she would interpret that, but he
wanted to be his friend. They kept talking and, without noticing the passing of time, they
ended up rambling through the town.
From then on, they became closer and gained confidence in each other, to the point of
confessing their deepest secrets.
—Kamala, there is something that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time —Evan knew
this was fragile information, so he took his time to think the exact words to say—. You know
I haven’t been going to University lately, right? —Kamala nodded— The thing is… I have
been diagnosed with a terminal illness and the doctors recommended me to be in the
hospital full time so the treatment would be more effective, so I had to drop University —she
did not reply right after the message. She knew how important University was for Evan, and
she suddenly looked as if she was questioning her own thoughts.
—Is there a chance that you will survive? How high is the possibility?
—Low, very low —Evan answered sighing, looking down to the ground and frowning.
—Are you afraid? —asked Kamala after a long time in silence.
—I am —he admitted.
—Everyone is afraid of dying, —she finally said— but what scares me the most is not having
lived fully. Don’t you think so? —Evan nodded, thoughtful— For me, that last part is much
more important than living longer. Plus, being old sucks —she stopped for a moment, and
then continued— So, what are you doing? Why are you giving up on your dreams when you
should be living your life to the limit? Pursue your goals, you won’t regret, and death will no
longer be as scary as you believe it is.
—As if it were that easy! It’s not like it’s a decision you make overnight! If there is a chance,
even if it is the tiniest, I want to live. My life is not only mine; many people would suffer if I
passed away. Wouldn’t you?
—I would like to be death by the time you die —she answered without thinking.
—...what? You really mean that? How… how can you say that?! —he could not believe her
words.
—It’s very easy for you! Look at how many people love you! I’ve been alone all my life.

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—I AM here for you, I DO care about you. And, plus, you say it is easy for me? I don’t know
if you heard well, but I’m about to DIE! —Evan left; he could not stand that situation anymore.
Kamala did nothing to stop him, and at that moment, she hated being what she was like.

When Evan arrived home, he saw his sister Emilie alone in the dinner room. She was
standing in front of the window and was holding some papers in her hands. He did not notice
them.
—Emi, something just happened and I... do you have a se... —he could not finish his phrase
when she turned around and interrupted him.
—Evan, we need to talk —said Emilie, without taking her eyes from the papers. She
hesitated for a moment— Dr. Nilssan has sent the results of your last inspection —he could
not hear her last words; her voice tailed off and, all of a sudden, she burst into tears. That
was the first time he saw her weeping since he was diagnosed. All this time she had not
showed a sign of weakness but, he knew that it was just a mask she wore, which was
burdening her just not to worry him. He appreciated all the effort she had made.
—It’s OK —he run to his sister and hugged her— You don’t have to say it, Emi… everything’s
gonna be alright —he had made a decision, and now it was his turn to wear the mask.
Days passed and Evan went back to University. When Kamala saw him for the first time
after so long, all she could feel was relief overtaking her. She got closer to him, now both of
them were standing in front of each other without saying a word.
—I apologize for what a said to you the other day —Kamala said to break the ice.
—You don’t have to apologize for what you think, Kamala. Now I understand. My life is
shorter than ever so, if I have to die young, is my decision, not destiny’s —there was no sign
of hesitation in Evan’s voice.
—From now on, our lives will be nice while they last —she stated.

It was Friday when it happened. Emilie was worried. His brother looked so weak since he
quitted the treatment. He had already passed out two times, and that was the third and last
time that the paramedics rushed Evan to the hospital.

A few days after his passing, a small group of people gathered to celebrate Evans life and
to bid him farewell. Emilie did not know half of the people there but it did not matter; if they
were there, they must have loved Evan. Funerals were not an important ceremony for the
Jean-Pauls, they were more of a reunion of people that had once cared for someone that

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was no longer by their side. That was the only reason why Emilie decided to dedicate a few
words of comfort to the people that had once loved her brother.
—I’m not going to explain how wonderful Evan was, because, if you are here, you know —
improvising a speech was not as easy as Emilie expected. She glanced up, looking at the
people there gathered, but she did not see Kamala—. You know what? I wasn’t mad at Evan
for being ill nor at the doctors who didn’t have a cure for his disease. No, I was mad at
destiny. Why did it have to be my brother? Why did he have to be so young? —she paused
once more— But then, I realized that destiny had put us together as well, that it had made
us live the best experiences and had the best memories together. That I met Evan thanks
to destiny and that he followed his dream until the end thanks to it. Destiny gave us the
chance to meet him and had made Evan who he was. Somehow, I’m thankful and I hate
destiny at the same time.
Emilie went back to her seat after what seemed a long time, right beside her mother, who
was looking down, tears dropping from her face. No wise words could make the pain go
away, so Emilie decided to hug her mum as tight as she could. After a while, she noticed a
presence in front of her. She looked up and saw a hand offering a tissue, which she grabbed
without a word.
—You have my deepest, sincerest sympathy —it was Dr. Nilssan and her always
emotionless face—. Evan once was a fighter. I’m glad that you, Emilie, are one now. That
speech was beautiful.
Emilie had no time to thank her for all her hard work during all those years helping Evan
before Dr. Nilssan was gone. But, as the woman walked away, Emilie could feel the weight
of Evan’s loss in the doctor’s shoulders, and could then notice the bond that united her with
the old woman. She then wondered what had united their lives in such a way.
At the same time, the doctor was making her way to her car, lost in thoughts. Frederica
Nilssan was not sure about her life decisions. Strongly than ever, she asked herself: “If I
were to live this life again without changing any of my actions, would I? Is this what I
deserve?”. She would have liked to stay with the Jean-Pauls a bit longer, but half an hour
later she had to be in the Medicine University, giving a speech to its students, pretending
her experience made her any wiser than other people.
By the time she arrived at the auditorium, a big number of students were there, waiting for
her. “Not so long ago, I was there, sitting and hoping that the following talk would change
my life. Young and fool.”
The headmaster introduced her briefly while she prepared the presentation. She was then
used to talking to big crowds and her palms did not sweat as much as they used to. Thirty
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minutes went on filled with theory and technical words that only experts could understand.
And in the blink of an eye, the last slide came up. In it, it could be read “Euthanasia”.
—Last but not least, who can tell me what this term means? —Frederica took a sip of water
waiting for someone to raise their hand. Someone finally did and by looking at him, he
answered.
—Is the fact of ending a life to relieve intractable suffering
—You are right, mister…?
—Riley.
—Alright, Mr. Riley, and… what do you think about euthanasia?
—I think life is worth living —he said with confidence in his voice—. No one should take their
own life —Federica could not help but judge the young man.
—What would you do if your patient was suffering from an incurable disease which caused
them great pain and they asked you to finish it? Do you think you can decide how others
choose to live their lives?
Michael Riley was thinking of a good answer to that question, one that would make him look
as if he had no doubts. Little did he know that a thread connected him and the doctor, and
that, from then on, he would deeply question all his thoughts and assumptions, but that is
another story.
Meanwhile, Dr. Nilssan had gone on and finished her presentation. After a round of
applause, the amphitheater emptied, and even if Michael did not notice immediately, a lot of
questions began to emerge in his head.
I would like to tell you that Michael began to be more critical and thoughtful about his actions.
I would like to tell you that he did felt sorrow the first time that one of his patients died in front
of him, but I cannot. All I can tell you is that Michael was connected with hundreds, maybe
thousands of people throughout his life. His actions influenced all those people
unexpectedly, as much as Dr. Nilssan’s had influenced his. Maybe his bad mood on a bad
day had made the driver of that taxi Michael took realize how much he hated being a taxi
driver. The taxi driver had then quitted his job and pursued his dream of being a dancer.
Maybe his hopeful smile and soft lies had made the heart of a patient flutter for a second
right before their last moment alive. And all of those things, because of me.

Franca Amongero and Rosi Silva

07/06/2019