The Suicide Diary

by Rees, Kirsten

  I kept my make-up simple and my Mother curled the ends of my hair so it hung in loose waves down my back. I pulled my dress on, applied lip gloss, and fastened on my shoes.

  As I stood in front of the mirror to check myself over, my Mother came in to offer me one of her little jackets. She paused when she looked at me. “You look beautiful Nina. Really grown up.” she said and smiled but there was a sadness in her voice too. “What time are you meeting the girls?” she asked.

  I looked at the clock and realised it was only 7o’clock; I was too early and I was hungry again but I didn’t want to spoil my dinner, so I put music on again and began painting another coat of nail polish on my nails.

  At 7:45pm my phone flashed with a message from Chris, ‘Running late sorry. I’ll meet you there about quarter past - looking forward to seeing you again x.’ I hesitated before calling to book a taxi – for a few moments I imagined myself the victim of a joke sitting alone in the restaurant while Chris and his stunning girlfriend arrived to have dinner.

  I'd already told my Mother my fake excuse for going out so I couldn't really back out without faking some kind of illness. Admittedly, the humiliation of being stood up had been part of the reason I hadn’t told her the truth about the date in the first place, and now I would have no one to agree how much of an asshole he was if he didn't turn up. Not that my Mother would use such a word, and besides a secret was better than her pity. I was shaken from my thoughts by the taxi horn beeping from the street outside and I headed out after saying goodbye to my Mother.

  As I watched the ice in my glass shrink smaller and smaller, it started to feel like being stood up might be reality. Almost every other table in the restaurant was full with couples talking in low voices and large groups laughing and chattering over one another. I had already looked around the room three times, so I sat rigid in my seat trying not to fidget or look around the room again too anxiously.

  Suddenly the seat across from me was pulled out I looked up to see Chris looking down at me. I’d been sat there for seventeen minutes, but I was so glad he actually turned up that it didn’t even cross my mind to frown at him.

  He slipped his coat from his shoulders and hung it over the back of the chair.

  “Hello beautiful.” he said.

  I just stared at him in wonder and brushed off the compliment.

  “Hi Chris, you look…” incredible, gorgeous, perfect. “…good.” I replied.

  “Thanks I had a job interview earlier, hence the suit.” He undid the buttons at his wrists and pushed up his sleeves. It was such a normal thing to do and yet watching his hands, I began to wonder what it would feel like to have them around my waist.

  It really wasn’t fair that he’d been at a - most likely stressful - interview and didn’t have a hair out of place, while I had spent hours getting ready and still wouldn’t look as good as he did if I’d had a team of stylists, make-up artists and hairdressers work on me for twenty-four hours straight.

  Chris ordered a bottle of wine and I sat holding my breath hoping the waitress wouldn't ask me for identification. However, the magnetism I'd noticed at the party seemed to be a constant for him, as the waitress smiled and offered a selection with a suggestion of one in particular.

  "I'm starving; shall we decide what to eat?" My horror in being caught staring at him meant I nodded my head and buried my face in the pages of the menu that had entertained me while I'd waited for him. Thankfully my Mother was keen on family dinner at various restaurants so the dishes were not too unfamiliar.

  Once we had ordered, the bottle of wine was brought to the table and our glasses were filled with the sweet, fruity liquid. Again, I was grateful to my Mother as her belief had always been to bring up her children with a healthy respect for alcohol by introducing it to us gently under her own roof. I always wondered if she took the notion from my father's Italian heritage or simply thought it better than becoming the holy grail of teenagers and having our first taste of alcohol through peer pressure. This wine was sharper than I liked but I sipped it slowly and felt a little less out of place.

  "You look very pretty, that colour suits you." He smiled and his eyes ran down my front.

  "Thank you, it was just something I had in my wardrobe." I replied with lie number one.

  "So, what have you been up to since I saw you at the party?" he asked.

  "Oh, I've been pretty busy with getting organised for university, so my friends and I have been shopping for clothes and books." Lie two, at least it was mostly true apart from the friends part.

  “I never did the Uni thing; my Dad had a friend who works in advertising and got me a job right out of school. I thought at the time I could study later, you know go back after I’d got some work experience. Now I just think that the whole point of Uni is to get a job at the end of it and I already have a job I love so it seems kinda pointless.” He shrugged and lifted his glass to finish off his wine.

  Chris made it easy to talk to him, gently teasing details of my life from me and patiently answering the few questions I asked of him. He told me about the promotion he wanted by next year and where he saw himself in another five. To a seventeen year old girl, he seemed so ambitious despite being only two years older. Chris had grown up with his dad and a younger brother, but I didn’t ask after his Mother since he hadn’t mentioned her. I was grateful he didn’t ask me too many questions, since after our chat at the party there really wasn’t much left for me to say.

  The meal was delicious but I took my time with my glass of wine so he only topped up his own - as tempting as it was to drown my nerves, I was perfectly capable of embarrassing myself sober so I didn't need the added help. I was also conscious of trying to act like a legal adult and not a teenager taking advantage.

  After dinner Chris took me to a bar and after another small glass of wine I began to relax. It seemed almost too sudden that our evening together came to a close and I had to say goodnight to him.

  I glanced at my watch to find the hands had spun through the last three hours and it was almost twelve o’clock. “I’ve had a really nice time, but I should probably say goodnight soon.” Was I asking permission or telling him?

  “It’s still early!” He disputed. He hadn’t even looked at his watch, but the bar had only begun to get busy in the last hour.

  "I've got a ton of stuff to do in the morning, so midnight's kind of my self-imposed curfew." Actually it was my Mother-imposed curfew. Lie number three. I still lived with my family, while he had his own flat, so he walked with me and waited in the taxi queue. Just moments before my taxi pulled up, he pulled me close and kissed me with his mouth pressed tightly to mine. I felt self-conscious knowing there were people behind me, while Chris barely seemed to notice or care. The people in front had pulled off in their taxi and the next one drove in to its place. He broke the kiss first then kissed me lightly on the cheek and whispered goodnight in my ear.

  When I climbed into bed, I noticed my phone flashing blue and I flipped it open to find a text from Chris. 'Really enjoyed our first date. I'll see you soon x' I fell asleep thinking this is how it should have happened the first time around.

  After that night glorious, unabashed, adoration was showered upon me. It was exhilarating and new and I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. Our second date was a double date with his friend Anthony who turned out to be the flat owner and party host from the night I had met Chris. I'd only briefly met him in between his kissing sessions with Sarah. It would have been a bit awkward since we hadn't spoken again after that, but she wasn't the girl holding Anthony's hand. I was introduced to the pretty brunette that I never met again and she wasn't the last.

  "I have something for you." He grinned as he presented me with an envelope which I took and quickly opened. Inside was a small, rectangular card and a long strip of white card. I looked at him confused but he gestured to look at them. I pulled the two items from the envelope to find it was a driving licence and a strip of photographs. More to th
e point, it was a driving licence with my photo on it and someone else's date of birth which made me nineteen years old. The photos I recognised from one of our dates when he had pulled me into one of those photo booths and taken a bunch of pictures with me sat in his lap. I had been horrified when he made me sit alone for one of the pictures but when he pocketed that one I was secretly pleased that he wanted to keep it. Now that I realised he had a purpose for the photo and I wasn’t sure whether to be happy he had gone to effort of getting me fake ID or disappointed that he hadn’t really wanted a photo of me to keep.

  He had already given me a few photos taken at one party or another - some of groups of our (his) friends, a couple with him sat with his arm around me and some which were on my own since he had taken most of them. I had thrown away any with just me in them.

  Now I was holding one half of the four tiny photos of us - the striking difference between us only dropped my confidence even lower and I wished I could cut myself out of the pictures.

  Chris knew so many people and we went from dinners, to gigs, to birthday parties, and various other events and before I knew it June was over and the heat of July was hanging over us. There was always something exciting going on in his life and for some reason he wanted me along for the ride. I don’t mean literally since although Chris had a car he never came to pick me up and seemed to have no interest in meeting my family. Since he rarely mentioned any members of his family, I tried not to take it personally. It seemed as if he had adopted his close knit group of friends as his family, and I got to know them well enough since most of my time with Chris was as part of the group’s active social calendar. I'd yet to start University and hadn't kept in touch with anyone from school, so I had nothing to invite him to but he didn't seem to mind. Although I’d taken on a part-time job which occasionally had events on evenings and weekends, I barely saw the girls from school so my social life was almost non-existent apart from the time I spent with Chris and his friends. He assumed I had a social life beyond spending time with him and I didn't bother to correct him - not exactly another lie, more omission of the facts.

  My usual excuse to my Mother was I meeting a friend for a catch up and movie, while in reality I would get a taxi to meet Chris in whatever bar or party we were going to. It surprised me how easy it was to lie to her about my whereabouts. Somehow it just seemed easier to keep the truth from her. He was nineteen and spent most weekends at gigs and alcohol-fuelled parties. More often than not, Chris stayed on at the parties long after I had left in time to get home for 1am. I was a little put out the first time he kissed me goodbye on the pavement as my taxi pulled up. "Baby, it's a party, I can't help it if you have to go home early. I work hard and I deserve to let off a little steam at the weekends. Don't make a scene in front of my friends. I'll call you in the morning." he said. It was like he had his answer ready before I had even finished making a fuss and handed me a note from his wallet before closing the taxi door.

  That ‘morning’call was usually late in the afternoon, if it came at all, and his voice always sounded hoarse as he spoke. The weeks passed quickly over the summer and it became my routine.

  He should have been out of my league; I knew I'd never be perfect so I tried everything I could to at least make myself perfect for him. I wore his favourite colour blue and listened to his beloved bands and watched the movies he loved. My empty social calendar meant I was always available for him, but I had the sense not to make that obvious by keeping up the pretence that I had lots of other things going on too. I'd read every magazine article on 'keeping your boyfriend happy' and 'how to play it cool to keep things hot'.

  He could be unpredictable, and it was sometimes difficult to know what he expected but I was determined. There were times when it wasn't enough and now and then I'd do or say something wrong.

  The first time I knew I had messed up, we were at his friend’s party; I'd only had one drink but something didn't feel right. Everything was just a little blurry and it was as if everything was in slow motion. I tried to get up but it was as if I wasn't quite in control of my limbs. It felt as if I was floating up out of my body. Had I died? You would think that was the kind of thing you would be sure of. There wasn't a bright light beckoning me, but then I panicked and tried to search for the sensation of heat or any flame-tipped fingers that might be calling me instead. My heart rate slowly returned to a steadier pace when I found neither. In fact the party still seemed to be going on around me.

  I had to find Chris, he had been here a while ago and he had brought me the drink and told me I was beautiful. I didn't believe him, yet it was so incredible to me to hear him say it. From where I was sitting, I couldn't see him anywhere. Leaning over my glass, I peered inside but the black liquid looked and smelled like vodka and coke should.

  Nina hated vodka and coke! When she rarely had a drink it was usually a small glass of wine or something with lemonade. ‘How can you date someone and not know this?’ thought Alex.

  I didn't like coke with vodka; it was too sweet a combination. It should have bothered me that I’d mentioned this to Chris this many times before, and yet I had smiled a thank you when he handed me the glass.

  Chris came back to me then and pulled me up from the seat. "You've been ignoring me. Why didn't you come and sit with me instead of them?" His face was so close to mine, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I tried to speak but couldn't seem to get my mouth to form the words, so I stared at him hoping he would realise something wasn't right. He had to remember he had been the one who had got up to go speak to someone. And then I thought I recognised the expression on his face - it was the look he got right before he would kiss me.

  I was vaguely aware of being half-carried; half pushed up two flights of stairs to a dark room and felt the weight of his body as he pushed me onto the bed. It amazed me that he wanted me at all, and I wanted to make him as happy. For some reason I couldn't seem to make my limbs function and so I lay there with my head swimming and my body limp. I felt his mouth kiss my face and neck but his stubble scratched at my skin like claws. He fumbled for the fastenings on my clothes and then my underwear and moments later he pushed into me roughly. I couldn't find my voice to cry out and so he didn't notice the pain he was causing me. I don't know how long he kept on as I slipped into unconsciousness.

  Alex realized he was gripping the edges of the diary so tight he almost broke the spine. Her words were describing something that had happened years ago, and he could do absolutely nothing about but that only made him feel angrier. There was a lot more to her diary after this so he knew it couldn’t be the reason she had decided suicide was her way out, but he had a feeling this was a part of it.

  I woke with a start to find myself in a taxi, and the driver trying his best to wake me without touching me. I could see the pity in his eyes as I took in the fact that I was alone in a taxi outside my house and I had no idea how I got there or if I even had enough money to pay the driver. He must have guessed what I was thinking.

  "Not to worry love, your boyfriend gave me the fare from your purse. He said to say he'd call you." said the driver.

  I stood in the doorway fumbling in my bag for the house key and trying to clear my head. The clock on the wall said one o'clock in the morning. Thankfully, no one was up but I still had to let my Mother know I was home. I made my way slowly to the kitchen and poured a glass of water which I tried to drink as I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry it up the stairs without spilling it everywhere. I started unsteadily up the back stairs and using the wall for support I made my way to the little W.C. since it was farther from my Mother’s room than the family bathroom. The cool dark floor looked inviting, but even in my confusion I was still aware of my family and the lies I had told. If they found out where I'd been, I would never be able to see Chris again. I pictured him dramatically cast out like Romeo and I couldn't bear the thought.

  Splashing my face with cold water helped a little and I managed to steady my breathing and follow the wa
ll again until I reached my Mother's room. I tried to sound normal as I whispered "That's me home, goodnight" to her and dragged my heavy body towards my welcoming bedroom. Unlike the other doors in our beautiful, old house, I had made sure the hinges on mine were well oiled, so I could quietly creep into my room without the noise waking one of my brothers. I didn't want either of them to hold the threat over me of telling mum I had been drinking. No matter how much they loved me, leverage was everything during sibling rivalry.

  My body seemed to sink deep into the mattress and I pulled the quilt tightly up under my chin. Despite the thick cover over me I felt cold and lay shivering in the dark. Now I was wide awake, when a moment before I’d felt like I wouldn’t even make it to my bed. I hadn’t been a virgin but Chris hadn’t known that and it had been our first time together. I felt awful that I couldn’t even remember most of it and only flashes were coming back to me. He would call me in the morning. I would speak to him then. I lay staring at the ceiling for a while, and not too long after I must have fallen asleep.

  It was two days before his call came. He didn't like when I called him in case he was busy with work, and so I waited as patiently as I could. I know it sounds pathetic, maybe I knew that at the time too, but you keep telling yourself it's alright until you know better.

  "Baby I've missed you so much. Tell me you love me." The sound of his voice through the phone flooded my mind with memories of the last few months. I had been angry, frustrated and disappointed, and yet everything I had been ready to say to him was somehow lost in the back of my throat. He had said the one word that had me distracted. ‘Love?’ He wants to know that I love him. If I love him!

  "You must know how I feel." I replied.

  I couldn't quite bring myself to say the actual words straight away. A small part of me knew I was admitting defeat.

  And that was how it went on between us. I was as enamoured as a snake to a charmer. Only hearing his music and swaying to the rhythm he created. When we were out, he was so attentive and sweet to me. For those short periods, I would feel like I was worth his adoration and I wanted it to last forever.