Andy & Jenni

“This can’t be happening. Am I dreaming? There is no way this is real.” These are the only thoughts that I can manage to think of as I lean over the toilet throwing up the breakfast I had that morning. Why had my mom waited until after I ate to tell me anyways? I should have seen the signs, I should have told someone the things that I saw her doing. I blame myself for this, for ALL of this.

 

 

            “Wake up, Wake up, Wake up!” I yelled to Andy as I ran up her stairs to the bedroom. I knew there was no chance she was awake it was 10:30 in the morning on a Saturday that girl didn’t get out of bed until at least noon on a good day. But anyways, before I went into her bedroom I went into the bathroom. I noticed something that was not okay. I mean I knew she cut but not like this. There was a broken razor with the missing blade in the sink and dried blood. I held back my tears and pretended like I didn’t see anything. I had to get out of that room immediately. I went to Andy’s room and slowly went to her bed. “Andy”, I whispered. She seemed startled to see me like she forgot that we had plans to go get waffles this morning then hit our morning, well afternoon, workout routine. She muffled back some useless words and shooed me out of her room so she could get dressed for the day. I wanted to inspect her wrists, or thighs, or hips, or wherever she was cutting this time but I didn’t want to see her hurting, I wanted to pretend that everything was going to get better.

 

 

            I finally pulled myself together, as much as one girl could after just hearing that her best friend had committed suicide. I went back down to the kitchen where my mom was sitting at the table staring blankly into her cup of coffee, she seemed more upset than I was right now, probably because she raised Andy as one of her own for the past nine years. “Mom, I need to go see Andy”, I said. My mom just looked at me with this expression that I wasn’t able to read. Instead she looked back down at her coffee and said “Hunny, Andy is gone. We can’t see her we have to help plan a funeral, we have to be there for her brother, we have to…” and then she trailed off. That was the last thing I heard my mom say for the next week.

 

 

            I never realized how hard it would be dealing with death. It is such a weird concept to me. Andy and I used to talk about death all the time. Well she would mainly do the talking and I would just listen (another warning sign you idiot). She would tell me about the funeral she wanted, she wanted a beautiful and happy environment, doesn’t everyone? She wanted there to be no tears and for her brother to play “Forever” by Chris Brown for her on the guitar. I tried my best to have him do that for her but everyone thought that I was being insensitive, what a laugh huh Andy! But she used to tell me that she wasn’t afraid of dying. Andy had the most beautiful mind, that was one of the many things I loved about her. She would tell me that God, or whoever I wanted to believe, would be there waiting for me. He didn’t care what had gone on on earth he was just happy to have His child back home. I believed her I really did but there was always this part of me that questioned it. I remember I asked Andy how she was so sure that that is what happened, her response gave me the chills. She told me it was because her mother was up there with him. She knew that her mother couldn’t just leave her behind and would do anything to have Andy back with her, okay I thought that was normal. Then she continued to tell me that she realized there was a much quicker and forgivable way to get to her mother. Andy said she would one day commit suicide. I never thought she would do it, I cried that night because I couldn’t deal with the thought of losing my best friend forever. It’s ironic the situation I’m in right now, don’t you agree?

 

 

            “Jenni, call 911, the timing isn’t right.” Andy said to me so calmly. I thought I was dreaming until I looked up at her and she had a bottle of Tylenol in one hand and a razor in the other, there was blood running down her legs. “Andy! Holy S**t!” I screamed at her as I picked up my cellphone and dialed 911. I called for my mom to get into my room, I didn’t even realize I was sobbing until my mom came in and I collapsed on the floor. The whole time I was having an episode, Andy stood in the middle of my room without saying a word, holding the half empty bottle of pills in one hand, the razor in the other, and the blood dripping down her legs leaving stains on my carpet. I stayed on my floor that night, inches away from the puddle of blood that had been left behind, while my mother rushed Andy to the hospital to save her life for the second time.

 

 

            It’s been a month since Andy took her life. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the blood stained carpet that happened over a year ago. Why hadn’t I been there a month ago like I was that night? There is so many what ifs in situations like these that I don’t think anyone ever gets peace of mind. It was selfish of Andy to go the way she did. I hope she was happy when she did it. I hope that she was looking at the picture of us from third grade as she sat there and bled to death. I hope that she is forever my guardian angel. I hope she knows how much I loved and will continue to love her.