A Year Without Sleep

By Al Stone

The early twenties, the college years - they're supposed to be the best time of your life. For Miles, they haven't lived up to it. His life is going nowhere, slowly. He's hoping a year abroad, in Canada, will change everything.

"A Year Without Sleep" is a novel about what happens after you choose life. Told through a series of vignettes, each based around a different woman, it's a story about coming of age, coming to terms with life, and learning to let go.

This debut novella from Al Stone is a searingly honest portrayal of growing up fast as a young man in a world that seems built for everyone else.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Al Stone
• Release date: Apr 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9780987492401

Al Stone

Al Stone (born 1982) lives in Sydney, Australia, with his wife.

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A Year Without Sleep

Published by Al Stone at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Al Stone

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Faith

Natalie

Rachel

Josie

Cindy

Barbara

Adrienne

Coda

Prologue

A week before, while being driven to his surprise party, Miles had felt like a condemned man being led down death row, shackled and complacent. He couldn’t even summon the energy to be defiant. He had resigned before then, resigned completely from this sponge cake life. He had spent his teens and university years slouching on trains, scowling at the television, searching chat rooms for a connection. Dodging the glances of neighbours and family friends.

The feeling now, standing at the airport gate, was strangely similar to that condemned feeling. Except that this death would be a rebirth, a metamorphosis. Turning away, he couldn’t think of anything to say, and he couldn’t have mimicked the tears in his mother’s eyes had he wanted to. He was simply numb.

Somewhere over the ocean, his mood started to change. All the frustration, all the boredom, the fear and the shame, drained away through the fuselage. It dispersed over the ocean, a new Pacific garbage dump. His lungs felt empty, expansive. Upon landing, he would be tabula rasa, twenty unsatisfactory years erased for good. Like the Phoenix.

The white noise of the engines dispelled any chance of sleep. Staying awake resembled a nightmare – wasn’t that the wrong way around? He imagined that, when he did sleep, he would dream of falling asleep, over and over again. But in the bitter haze, down deep somewhere, beneath even the guilt, he felt an unfamiliar feeling. Later, when it came back again, still unfamiliar, he would realise it was freedom.

He watched the sun rise over the clouds, starting with a narrow band of bright light and exploding into dazzling spectrum. It felt like they were flying directly into the sun.

Faith

The clock hands creep towards the mark

Today I look towards my goal

This is my final spitting spark

This is the day I take control

There'll be no more procrastinating

For now I know what I must do

This is a memory I'm creating

This is my loaded gift to you

For I was never cold enough

This is the breaking of our pact

A celebration of our love

And this, my lone unselfish act

Is my release, is my delight

This is my proof, this is my price

A kiss that lingers on the night

This is my final sacrifice

*****

The train started at a crawl, through the neat suburbs of Vancouver, then over the river and up towards the snowy peaks pointing severely above the wisps of cloud. All around was lush and green, in the last flush of summer. Forest fires burned in the distance, lending the atmosphere a smoky haze. When darkness fell, Miles slipped out to the smoking car, to reflect and listen to the conversations of the ViaRail employees. The townships came and went, climbing into the hills like fairy castles, illuminated with the dull glow of the silicone lights. Every now and then they would pause to let the rattling lumber trains pass. Morning broke slowly, the river valley bathed in a grey light. Malachite green rivers snaked up to monoliths of granite. And then there were prairies, then industrial wastelands, then the sprawl of Edmonton. And Faith.

She hadn’t invited him to come, but she hadn’t discouraged it, either. They had been friends since she was eleven, chatting almost every day online. They had a special bond, they both agreed. He had been a part of her life, and she of his. He had seen her through her first boyfriend, her exams. He had read everything she had ever written. He had called her once, out of the blue. She had sounded so child-like; surely it wouldn’t be the same now. She was a woman, on the cusp at least, and she was worth waiting for. What if she showed up with friends, giggling and whispering? There he would be, an aching Humbert: despicable, pathetic.

Frustration, for days. He couldn’t get her on the phone, and she was never online. He had told her when he was coming, hadn’t he? How stupid not to arrange a meeting place beforehand. It was all done in such a hurry, adding these ten or so days onto the start of his trip. He had delayed it just long enough for Karen’s wedding, slipping past sleeping bodies on his way out. This could be the longest ten days of his life. He contemplated walking past her house. He couldn’t work the payphones properly. He killed time walking through the city, drinking coffee, smoking long cigarettes in the gardens. At night he lay on the hotel bed watching music videos, drinking whiskey. Smoking cigarette after cigarette, putting them out on his arm. The rush was electric. Each one left a perfect white blister. He started to spell her name.

He practised his speeches in his head – the greeting, the parting, the promises for the future. He had so much to tell her, to spit out at her feet for her to pick up and cherish. He was a low dog, beaten too often to bark, grovelling with upturned eyes for the chance at a falling crumb. He was a vile spider, a predator. The time by himself was killing him, the ulcer in his stomach rupturing, the acid devouring his insides. The phone rang.

Hello?

Hello, sweetheart.

Mum.

How’s it going so far?

He swallowed a lump, a little too slowly.

It’s not quite going as planned.

And that was all he could get out before he wept. He imagine the camera shot, slowly spinning as it drew up, he a shaking white spot in the centre, ever diminishing until the blackout.

*****

At last, a path that crosses mine!

A free-flowing river

Black hounds are pursuing me

For crimes I have long atoned

They will not find me in here

I can not now make the town before dark

So I’ll let the river take me, strong and swirling

Soon I’ll be heading south

Maybe there will be some green grass county

A wink and a meal for a lonesome traveler

A quiet place to lay me down

There is no big white boat to take me downstream

So I’ll wade out to the middle

Where the water whispers to me

"Lift your feet from the rocky bed

I will carry you now, weightless

Close your ears and eyes

And just let go".

*****

Finally, he made contact. They made plans to meet up on Saturday, at the street festival. In line for coffee, he thought he recognised her as she approached from her head shot, but he couldn’t be sure.

You must be Faith, he came up with.

You must be Miles.

She was like that, sassy, half-mocking. Smart.

Excuse me while I just go say hi to my friend.

And just like that, it hit Miles how ridiculous this whole thing was. What was he doing here, in a foreign place, friendless and clinging