by Avery Kloss
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour. It’s vegetable stew.”
“Okay.”
“Are you all right? You seem … a bit down.”
“I’m good. Just tired.”
“Let me know when you’re hungry.”
“I will.”
Every day that followed repeated the same pattern, where I struggled to get through my classes, and to at least appear to be a functioning member of society. All the while, I felt like death inside. I sat every day with Maven, the girl offering me a cookie and not speaking more than three or four words, which I appreciated. I did my best to get some work done, trying to focus on classes and finishing homework and studying for quizzes, but the darkness only grew, and by Friday, I could not get out of bed.
“Are you sick, Brie?” Mom stood over me, her look worried. “You’ve been coming down with something all week.”
“I don’t feel good.”
“I’ll call the school.”
“Thanks.”
“If you’re not better by Monday, you need to see someone. Are you taking your meds?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “Things were good for a while.”
Gravely disappointed with myself for the broken state of my mind, which I had no control over, I cursed under my breath, tossing back the covers. “I’ll go. I got it.”
“Just stay home. You don’t have to pretend for me. I’m gonna give Dr. Walker a call.”
“Don’t. You don’t need to do that. I’ll be totally fine by Monday.”
“Oh, Brie.”
“I will. It’s cool.” I flung hair over a shoulder. “I just … need a shower.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, honey. I'm not going to judge you. We’ve been here before. We can get through it. I'm just wondering if there’s anything to shorten the episode, so you don’t suffer needlessly. Do you have any idea what might’ve brought it on?”
It had been the dream from last weekend, but I did not wish to discuss it. “I’ll take a long walk, starting later today. Dr. Jessops said exercise and fresh air helps.” That was true to some extent, but this time, I might need a crowbar and a sledgehammer to break through it. “Don’t worry about me, Mom.”
“What kind of mother would I be, if I didn’t worry?”
“This isn’t your fault. This has nothing to do with you.”
“They said you’ve always had a chemical imbalance. Even as a kid you had down times. If you want to speak to someone, please let me know. I’m sure Dr. Walker would—”
“No! He’s your boyfriend now, and that’s weird.”
“I’m so sorry.” A deep frown creased the space between her eyes. “I’ll break up with him.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You’re happy. You deserve to be happy.” She had been laughing and singing to herself all week. “I’m gonna shake it off. I’ve got this. It won’t get the best of me this time. It’ll be different, I promise.”
Her look revealed skepticism.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Make the call. I’m staying home. I’ll go for a walk. I’ll walk all day, if I have to.” I had to fight it, letting it win all week. For the first time in days, I sensed the smallest measure of control. “Sunshine and air. It’ll help.”
She offered a pained smile. “Oh, Brie. Please, if there’s anything I can do, tell me, honey. If you want ice cream or a funny movie or if you want to go to Portland to shop, tell me.”
“I’m gonna take a shower, drink coffee and then walk. It’s going to be awesome.”
13
A Pink Floyd record played, the voice of Roger Waters in my ear. I sat on the floor before the fireplace, watching flames flicker around a splintered log. As I rocked back and forth gently, my toes peeked out beneath a long, white nightgown. I really tried to rally, doing whatever I could to boost my spirits, even stealing a glass of wine earlier, but nothing seemed to help.
A knock sounded at the door. “What?”
She peeked her head in. “I’m going soon. Do you need anything?”
I faked a bright smile. “I'm good. I’m loving these old albums.”
“I’m glad. Clark’s picking me up in a bit.”
“Have fun, Mom. You deserve to be wined and dined and treated like a queen.”
“I feel terrible for stealing your therapist.”
“I spoke to him once. That hardly qualifies as my therapist. I’ll get another one.”
“I made an appointment for you for Tuesday. Clark recommended her. I hope you like her.”
“Just don’t go lesbian between now and then, and steal her.” I tried to keep it light, making a joke.
She laughed, “Oh, boy. You won’t have to worry about that one.”
“Have fun, Mom.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better. Gosh, I was worried.”
“No reason to worry. This is a worry-free zone. New house, new town, new beginning.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for. It’s what I wanted, but I just don’t want to stress you out.”
“You’re not. You didn’t cause it. You can’t control it. You can’t cure it.” I had picked up a few nifty sayings in my time spent in therapy. “I'm responsible for my own happiness. I’ll … manage.”
She appeared hopeful, yet not entirely convinced. “Yeah, but you still need to have another therapist, at least for a while. These moods hit you and wipe you out. I can only guess what you’re going through. I see you suffer, Brie, and it hurts me.”
It took every last bit of effort I had left to pull a happy mask over my face. “I’m on the mend. It was a … rough week, but I feel better. I’ll see the woman on Tuesday. You have fun. Dr. Walker seems like a nice guy. I’m glad you found someone. You’re too young to be the lonely widow, Mom.”
“We all miss your dad.”
“But he’s gone. You gotta move on.”
“You do too. You’ve been so unhappy most of your life. You’ve always had dark moods. You’d hide in your room most of the day. I thought you were playing, but you were just sitting there.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe we should’ve tried harder to make a brother or a sister for you.”
I wanted her to go away. The veneered look upon my face threatened to slip to a deep frown, if she stayed another minute. “I was enough work for you guys. I wore you out.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t your date picking you up soon? You should get ready.”
She sighed. “All right. You’re right. Now’s not the time to rehash everything. I’m glad you’re on the mend, so to speak. I won’t be gone long.”
“Take your time. Enjoy your night.”
A smile appeared. “I will. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
I waited for her to leave, exhaling a long breath the moment the door closed, my shoulders sagging. Keeping up the “happy” façade proved utterly exhausting. I listened to a car arrive and voices speaking. That ended moments later, as the vehicle drove away.
Alone now, I thought of absolutely nothing, my mind tired, beaten down and flattened like a pancake. All week I tried everything possible to lift my spirits, the motions of pretending had sapped every last bit of mental strength. Although … one option remained available, and I believed now it might be … the only one left.
Getting to my feet, I glanced at the record, the black disk spinning around, while the sound of rock music filled the room. Opening the door, I padded barefoot down the hallway, the wood floor creaking in places. Entering one of the bigger bedrooms, I approached a set of doors that opened to a balcony, the coolness of night hitting me like a bucket of ice water. Far from deterred, I went to the railing, while wind blew hair in my face, the air chilling me to the bone.
Before I lost my nerve or the resulting consequences changed my mind, I pulled a plastic chair over, stepping on it. A howl hooted in the distance and the orb of the moon glowed between the branches of t
he tree nearest to the house. Shivering, I placed one foot on the flat portion of the metal railing, struggling to balance, while I lifted myself to a standing position. One good gust of wind would push me to the ground below, the impact lethal, but that was the point, wasn’t it?
Here I stood, at the precipice of a decision years in the making, the moment of surrender at hand, and I would meet my fate head on. This life, with its burdens and suffering, the torment of depression and all of that … stuff, I planned to end once and for all. My mother would go on, the woman far stronger than I.
Do it, Brie!
If I waited another minute, fear would get the better of me. “The last choice is the right choice.”
Dark strands of hair blew about my face, a contrast to the white of the nightgown. The garment tangled around my legs, while I shivered with cold, balancing precariously on the small metal railing. I lifted my chin, eyeing the moon overhead, partially hidden by a dark cloud.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whispered.
Holding out my arms, I jumped, the rush of falling shocking me with brutal awareness. In those three seconds, I deeply regretted my actions, wishing now I could take them back—with all my heart—but it was too late.
I opened my eyes to darkness, feeling a sense of peace so profound; I welcomed it. I had been here once before, following a suicide attempt, having the same sort of experience, although not for long. This time would last forever. I remembered what I had done, the startling pain upon impact that I felt for only a moment, and then oblivion, welcoming it. I floated now, my body a pile of broken bones, while the spirit moved to another plane of existence. The pain that cut so deeply no longer stung, the sweetness of relief, of peace, smoothing out all the rough spots. Floating to some unknown destination, I felt a presence then, a sense of warmth, something comforting … what was it?
“My dear,” said a voice I recognized, my grandmother’s face appearing. A bright, glowing light floated around her. “It’s not time for you yet, Brieanna. You’re going to have to go back, sweetheart.”
“Grandma,” I cried, emotion washing over me. “Grandma!”
“It’s not your time.”
“I love you! I miss you! Where’s daddy?”
“We’ll be waiting for you when the time’s right. You must go back, Brie. Go back, honey.”
“No!”
But, as I protested, I felt a pull, something separating me from my loved one, my grandmother suddenly appearing smaller and smaller, her form drifting towards the light behind her. I fought to stay with her, but it proved fruitless, the tunnel closing in around me. I floated again, seeing myself from above now, a vision in white upon the ground, although I wasn’t alone. A man knelt beside me, pressing his wrist to my mouth.
“There we are,” he said in a lightly accented voice. “Drink, little one. Drink.”
Despite trying to end my life and seeing grandma again, my lack of success relieved me greatly. The regret of hurting my mother in such a way, especially after she had already lost dad, propelled me downward to the body— my body. I had so carelessly thrown myself from a two-story balcony. I slowly came back, the coldness and discomfort of being alive the first real sensation, a sign to redouble my efforts. The ground felt hard and damp, my feet and hands nearly frozen. I tried to open my eyes, to see the world again.
“Can you hear me?” said a voice.
Other than the cold, I felt no pain, although something warm coursed through me, like I had taken a sip of brandy, the sensation creating a bit of a buzz. Licking dry lips, I tasted blood.
“There you are.”
I gasped for breath, opening my mouth to inhale frigid air that burned my lungs. “What?”
“Welcome back.”
“W-who are you?”
“A helpful neighbor.”
I shivered, my fingers closing into fists. “What happened?”
“Humans can’t fly, you know. It was foolish of you to try.”
He looked familiar; he was the man who changed our flat tire on the roadside last week. “Mr. … Murray?”
“Indeed, but call me Gabe.” He grasped my arm, lifting me to my feet.
I should have broken my neck in the fall, not to mention every other part of my body, but I did not feel a single bit of pain, although I shivered in the cold.
“Let’s get you inside.”
“I should be dead right now. Why am I not dead?”
“The real question is why would you want to kill yourself in the first place. You should count your lucky stars I was … in the neighborhood. I saw what you did, you impulsive, stupid girl.”
I deserved a lecture and so much more, my actions appalling.
“Life is a blessing. It’s a gift. It shouldn’t be wasted. Someone so young—so beautiful—filled with so much potential, you should rejoice to be alive. You should never take it for granted.”
Tears welled in my eyes, the gravity of what I had done feeling like a punch in the gut. “I know.”
He touched my face, while a hint of sympathy softened his stern features. “Let me help you inside.”
“All the doors are locked.” I glanced at the balcony. “That one’s open.”
“Let me help you up.”
One arm went around my waist, Gabe lifting me effortlessly, while he grasped a lower branch. We were high up within seconds, the climb brisk. I hardly had a moment to think about how strong he must be to accomplish this task. The man gently tossed me over the railing.
I stared at him, shivering, and crossed my arms over my chest. “W-what are you? Are you … with the circus? A trapeze artist?” His low, throaty laughter filled my ears.
“No, but I often feel like a clown. I’m … I do a little yoga.”
I did not believe that for one moment. “Right.” I opened the door, feeling warm air.
“I’d think twice about skydiving again. You might not get so lucky next time.”
I lifted my chin to look at him, finding him oddly appealing. “I should be dead. I was dead. I saw my grandma.”
“Like I said, you’re lucky.”
He appeared younger than I thought, with impossibly perfect skin, far paler than my own. Mirth-filled, wide-set eyes sat on a rightly proportioned face, the jawline strong. Thick, glossy dark hair hung to the back of his neck, where I impulsively wrapped my arms, hugging him.
“Thank you.”
He stiffened, gently pushing me away, an unnamed hunger flaring in his eyes. “Go inside, Brie. Go, and lock the door.” A hand landed on my lower back, giving me a shove. “Goodnight.”
I turned around to say something, but he had disappeared.
14
I felt so odd in the hours after the attempted suicide, although … it had been a success. For all intensive purposes, I had died. The fact that I actually jumped off the railing of a second-story balcony staggered me. I let the weight of those actions sink in, while twinges of guilt and regret made me nearly sick to my stomach.
“A permanent solution to a temporary problem,” I uttered, sitting in the parlor by myself, mother not home from her date yet. “Wow. I really did it.”
Despite everything, I did not have one single bruise or scratch on me, the horrible feeling of dread and unhappiness gone. Perhaps, the fall had knocked some sense into me, or it was … Gabe. I pondered the situation, reliving everything, every moment of what should have been the end of my life. I had seen my grandmother, who hadn’t judged me for harming myself, only saying it wasn’t my time yet, and to go back.
“It wasn’t my time,” I whispered.
At nineteen, I had not begun to live life, never visiting Europe or having had a real job or even a romantic relationship. For the first time ever, I did not feel that deep well of loneliness and loss, a grief with which I seemed to be born. I felt, dare I say, normal? And, what about Gabe? Who was he? Why had I seen him bending over me with his wrist at my mouth? Why had I tasted blood? Was that his blood?
“He must’ve done CPR
,” I whispered. “Why didn’t I break all my bones? He seems pretty strong. Maybe he caught me.” Yet, no one stood below when I fell. “Okay, then the ground provided a buffer. I did land on grass, after all. It must’ve been soft enough to protect me.” I doubted that would have somehow made a difference. I should have broken my neck. “Maybe it was a miracle, a second chance.” What would I do now? “I don’t know.” The events of the evening could not be explained. I had a few questions I needed to ask Gabe Murray, deciding to contact him as soon as possible. “Go to bed.”
I ventured to the second floor and to my room a moment later. The record on the player spun around, the needle near the center, making scratching noises. I turned it off, shutting off the light and climbed into bed. Grasping the covers, I listened to the sounds in the room, hearing some creature scurrying around in the attic.
Sleep claimed me most blissfully a little while later … the dreams soft and sweet … the feeling peaceful.
“Brie?” A hand shook me. “Honey?”
“Hum?” Cocooned in warmth, I snuggled further into the bedding.
“It’s almost noon. Don’t you have things you wanted to do today?”
“Mom?” I flung the covers back, smiling. “Mom!” She sat on the bed, her hair done and makeup on, looking so beautiful. I hugged her, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Oh, Mom.” If I had died, she would be in agony today, absolute agony.
“Oh, my goodness. Are you all right?” She hugged me as well.
“I’m good. I’m so good.”
“I guess you must’ve slept well.”
“It was the first good night’s sleep in a while, yeah.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“How was your date?”
“Really nice.” A smile appeared. “I’m going to an antique store with Clark later. Do you want to come?”
“No. You guys go. I’ve a ton of homework to do.”