Stunning

A memoir of my last interactions with my old boyfriend before he killed himself.

"This is real. And it's all on you," he told her. Then he pulled the trigger and shot himself in the chest.

 

This is what Jake's sister told me he said to her during the moments before he killed himself.

 

"He was cold and deliberate. I've never seen him like that before. Ever," she explained to me.

 

I cried. I couldn't understand what happened. Jake and I had just spoken that very day and everything seemed fine, normal. "What on earth happened? What? Why? Oh my God." I was becoming incomprehensible.

 

Granted, we had only been talking online and through a flurry of emails; but it was constant. I even set a ringtone just for him--Duffy's "Mercy" and I would smile every time I'd hear it, which was, well, often. "Pretty f*****g daring, kiddo," he told me. He literally knew whenever I was online; he'd log on and we would chat for hours. Frequently late into the night. We discussed everything; all that we had been doing the past twenty years, our families, our jobs. God, how had twenty years passed? How had we broken up anyway, he asked? I gave my heart to him and he trampled it and then tossed it out the window--once I broke it off, it took me years to recover. I blocked out so much of our relationship...it was just too painful to remember. He asks me if I remember certain experiences, dates, places--much of it I don't. He is upset--says he feels "deleted." That hurts, he tells me. I'm sorry, I say. Self-protection, I guess.

 

I explain that my best friend literally had to pick me off the floor that year after I broke up with him. I found out he was cheating on me, again. I just couldn't do it anymore. When I asked him about it now that we were talking, he was so incredibly sorry. Humbled, He said he realized how amazing I was; what an idiot he was. But why, I asked? Why would you do that, why would you cheat? It still hurts, even now, after all these years. I don't know, he said. Someone new, less cerebral. Gee, thanks, I can laugh now. Always crucified for my brains. One of my biggest mistakes, he said, a HUGE one. My life was downhill from there--with the exception of the birth of my son. And that had its own complications. What do you mean? I clarify. Well, I got the girl pregnant, married her to do the right thing. Divorced her when I found out she was f*****g the neighbor. But at least I have my son.

 

Would you want to be with me now, I ask? In a heartbeat, he said. That is, if you weren't married, he jokes. Yea, there's that, I agree. Do you think we would have made it though? I ask. Remember, you had such a temper. So jealous and angry about other guys. Yea, I couldn't handle anyone giving you attention, that's for sure, he says. I never got that, I said. It's not like I wasn't totally in love with you, you know. Perhaps what you craved was what you rejected I said. Perhaps, he agrees. I remembered your birthday every year, even our dating anniversary, he tells me. For twenty years? I ask. For twenty years, he says. All I know is that you were one of the greatest successes in my life and I fucked it up, he says. I broke my own heart with you darlin. I agreed, sadly. I cried for what could have never been.

 

I want to see you, he says. When, I ask? I'm married, quite happily I might add. I am happy that you are happy, he told me. That's all I've ever wanted. But I want to hold you, touch you, kiss you, inhale you, hug you. I dream about being with you again, he explains. Out of all the women I've been with, it's always been you, babe. ALWAYS. I feel so tempted, even though I would never, ever cheat on my husband. It's all so confusing. I just want to see him, reconnect in person. We talk about maybe at the holidays. He asks if he could have me all to himself--just a drink in a public place--he doesn't trust himself to be a gentleman for anything more than that. I laugh. I'm serious, kiddo, he says. Sure, that's fine. My guy is cool, I say.

 

I find out that he's gone because he told me he'd be online that night and he wasn't. Or the next night. Or the next night after that. I check my emails--nothing. So I go to his wall on Facebook--and that's where I see the RIP messages. Unbelievable. I thought it was a joke. "This is not happening," I kept repeating to myself. But unfortunately it is all too true. I am stunned.

 

And now, he's gone. I just can't believe it. I go online and he's not there. I hear "Mercy" and my heart drops. Of course I change my ringtone and delete poor Duffy from my ipod. I just can't even bear that song anymore. Facebook is a double-edged sword for me. I love reconnecting with so many old friends and networking with new people--but this experience has completely thrown me. My emotions are so raw.

 

A day or two before he died I told him I had found my diary from one of the years we were together back in the 80s. He told me to shred it, burn it. I laughed--it wasn't all bad I told him. I had written that there were nights he held me the entire night, so gently, whispering how much he loved me while I slept. So sweet. He said he remembered it all--those nights were such clear, pure memory for him, something he held onto even now. He told me my body was perfect (and doesn't every girl want to hear that) and he just couldn't get enough of me--he wanted to be touching me at all times, even in sleep. He asked me for current pictures; I sent them. Stunning babe, he said, simply stunning. And my heart melted all over again.

 

So here I am, dealing with the whys. I don't think I'll ever understand. Though I do know now that he had been out of work for a year at least, estranged from his teenaged son, staying with his sister in her already packed house, sleeping on an air mattress--the best she could do but which just makes me cry. So the political consultant's job he had didn't exist, his truck that he drove (and loved) was parked in her driveway due to lack of funds for insurance and registration, and he didn't want us to talk on the phone because he couldn't even afford a cell phone. He was so depressed that he made up a life he no longer had. He hardly left his sister's house, even to go outside in the backyard with her kids or mow the lawn. He didn't even try to get a job which is so unlike him.

 

He was a scrappy guy, a pull-yourself up by the bootstraps kind of man, a bull-rider for God's sake. I saw him take on all kinds of jobs back in the 80s when he needed money, before he got a full-time gig as a manager at Longs Drugs: chimney sweep, tree-cutter, bread truck driver. He would do anything he needed to make money...so I'm still having a hard time getting my mind around his giving up.

 

I'm mad at him, so pissed! For killing himself and taking away a father from Dillon, a who-knows-what from me, and for doing this in front of his sister. WTF? I just don't get it. Maybe he was bipolar--we know he clearly had anger and impulsivity issues which is part of the reason I had to let him go. Yet he took pride in being "crazy" and taking risks. So am I being selfish? Maybe. I just would rather have him alive and not speaking to me than...this. Did I have anything to do with it? God, I hope not.

 

I can only hope not.

 

 

Author's Note

ignore the fact that I haven't put quotations around most of the dialogue. this is my first draft.