Suicide Notes From A Wedding

by Joaquin Emiliano

  “so…” i put my hands behind my back. cracked my neck. “you ready?”

  Bobby smiled. “i think you’re under some kind of impression that something is supposed to happen between us.”

  behind me, the printer completed its task. took a nap.

  “isn’t there?” i asked.

  “it’s kind of been 10 years. maybe more, i can’t quite remember.”

  “it was February of 1999. valentine’s day.”

  “you can prompt all you want.” Bobby chuckled, adjusted his belt. “but i’m celebrating my 5-year anniversary, and whatever you did to me, i’m not sure i could really care less about it.”

  i brought my hands from around my back. let them hang close to my pockets. “yeah?”

  “you still writing, Lucky?”

  “yes.”

  “huh.” Bobby gave it some thought. “not too many people from back in the day hanging onto their dreams with that kind of tenacity.”

  “well, no.”

  “you ever write about what happened?”

  “yes,” i replied. no hesitation. looking to rekindle a little fire beneath an encounter that had somehow gone limp. “short story. called it Proof of Purchase.”

  “why’s that?”

  “we all got something to prove to ourselves. you just happened to be in the way.”

  “anybody read it?”

  to my left, the computers rattled and hummed. “no.”

  “anybody read anything of yours? like, even your friends?”

  “no.”

  Bobby shrugged. “well… maybe that’s just it.”

  “what’s it?”

  “maybe nobody cares…” he removed his glasses, rubbed his right eye with the back of his hand. “i mean, if i don’t care what you did, how’s anyone else going to take the time to listen to you? i’ve been married for 5 years. got a pretty good business going in Carmel. and who else is here, right now? barely even me.”

  through the room’s open doorway, i saw a pair of staffers rushing past. “yes.”

  “nobody cares, Lucky.” he brushed past me. took his pages from the printer. gave them a look, just to make sure everything was in order. “if anything, i’m just happy i can set your mind at ease.”

  i didn’t move.

  “have i?” he asked. “set your mind at ease, Lucky?”

  “you’ve set the table. set the alarm. set the stage.”

  Bobby smiled. “you keep chasing that dream. if meeting you was the worst thing that ever happened to me, it couldn’t have turned out better.”

  he folded his papers and headed for the exit without so much as a goodbye.

  “the best revenge is to refrain from imitation,” i called out. saw him pause at the threshold. now most definitely taller than i remember. “you’re a fucking genius, Bobble.”

  “one of us has to be,” he said, and disappeared. stage right.

  left me the company of giant monitors and a printer with electronic emphysema.

  the way home dug into my back pocket, reminding me that it was time to put an end to this whole mess.

  ***

  James Reckless caught me as i was entering the lobby. “Lucky. just wanted to take a few pictures with you and the Verona crew.”

  couldn’t really say no. got placed in a lineup with the rest of them.

  one arm draped around Korben’s massive shoulder, the other around Chester’s waist.

  my last known photograph…

  we all broke apart. came together in various hugs. tepid assurances for future dates. a little less certain than we used to be about such promises.

  Chester being the lone holdout. “we should all get back together next year. right here. celebrate the one year anniversary of Nicky’s wedding. he doesn’t even need to be here, fuck him.”

  i nodded. “don’t look too hard for me.”

  wrapped myself in his dense arms. kissed his cheek.

  turned and gave James a hug.

  he pulled away. “go back and say goodbye to Nicky. he’s got something for you.”

  “something?”

  “every groomsman gets a gift.”

  “ok…” i checked my pocket, made sure Korben had given me the keys. “thanks, James…” thought about what my final words. not that it mattered. settled on, “hell of a speech last night.”

  left him behind and went back into the dining room for seconds.

  ***

  Kayla’s father had joined what was once our table.

  stood up along with Nick as i cruised by.

  trying to act casual.

  “where you been?” he asked.

  i kept my stories to myself. “the printers in the business center are old.”

  “you’re lucky they even still matter.”

  “word is you have a gift for me.”

  “yeah…” Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny box. hardly a box. navy colored cardboard no larger than a thick cigarette case. wrapped with a sky blue ribbon.

  “thanks,” i told him.

  “you’re not going to open it until you get home, are you?”

  “that’s the plan.”

  “you always knew when to play your cards.”

  “not as dramatic as all that,” i said. shoved the keepsake into my pocket. looked up into those impossibly beautiful eyes of his and smiled. “thanks for the gift.”

  “anytime.”

  “oh, and finally…” i drew him close. gave him a hug. breathed in his rotten cologne. planted a kiss on his neck. “can i finally say congratulations?”

  “thanks, buddy.”

  we let go.

  i saw Kayla standing at the far end of the table.

  couldn’t take much more, and settled on a wave.

  she waved back.

  i turned to Michael, hovering nearby.

  returned his grin with a friendly nod. “thank you for having me, sir.”

  “hope to see you again soon, Lucky,” he said.

  “whatever you’re really thinking, you can count on it.”

  Nick and Michael both laughed.

  i took a moment to savor the sounds, and winked.

  walked the hell away.

  ***

  i was almost out the doors, when Korben and Alley stopped me.

  “damn it,” i said. “can we just have a proper goodbye?”

  “sure,” Korben said. “thing is, we’re having trouble getting a ride back to the bus station. could you possibly drop us off? all you’d have to do then is just punch the directions into…”

  yes, it was just that hard to believe, or remember.

  “oh…” Alley said.

  i nodded. “sorry.”

  “yeah,” Korben said. “i keep forgetting.”

  i smiled. let their awkward slouching make their mistake well worth it.

  “love you both,” i said.

  not interested in their reply, i left the lodge behind.

  back to my car.

  opened the trunk to make sure they had taken everything with them.

  found a large, foam hat in the shape of a hotdog.

  not sure whose fault that was. no doubt it would come in handy at some point.

  got behind the wheel and got things rolling.

  saw the tank bottoming at zero.

  one last stop.

  ***

  2 miles out; a local pump and pay.

  i watched the dollars add up.

  already feeling the erasure.

  put the nozzle back in its cradle, as my hands continued to shake.

  i stepped into the gas station. took a moment to eavesdrop. teenage girl behind the counter arguing with an unseen woman in the back office.

  headed for the coolers, past a colorful brigade of snack foods.

  picked out a few bottles of Gatorade, labels guaranteeing an extreme experience.

  scooped up a pack of peanut M&Ms.

  went to pay the piper.

  the loca
l girl scanned my items. thick arms underneath her grey sweater. tired features, eyes already exasperated with how her day was shaping up. fingernails painted black. gave me the total. tapping her foot as i managed to count out the 7 or so dollars.

  “just passing through?” she asked.

  “seems to be the case.”

  i handed her the bills, all facing the same direction.

  “you work in retail?” she asked.

  “that’s the whole story, yeah.”

  she punched in a few numbers.

  the two of us jumped back as my change flashed on the register’s digital readout.

  $5,532.00

  i raised an eyebrow. “ok.”

  “don’t you even think it.”

  “would be nice.”

  “for you maybe, get yourself 5,532 dollars. and i’d be fired.”

  “and i’d split it with you?”

  “then what?” she punched a few buttons, trying to make things right. “off to Mexico?”

  “how about New Orleans?”

  “are you some kind of crazy person?” she popped the register, handed me my proper change. “people die down there.”

  “that’s the plan.”

  “February sixteenth, twenty-fourteen.”

  i took my change, somehow missing the significance. “i’m sorry?”

  “five thousand, three hundred, twenty-two…” she pointed at the clock on the wall, reading one pm… “that’s the amount of hours left until February sixteenth. twenty-fourteen.”

  i stared at her.

  she graced me with a sarcastic smile. “what? i can’t be good with numbers?”

  i shrugged. “whatever the case, just be good.”

  “great advice”’

  “yeah.”

  “come back and see us.”

  “be on the lookout for a guy named Chet.”

  i went back to my car.

  slipped into the driver’s seat.

  key. ignition. on.

  the satellite radio latched onto its signal.

  Tears For Fears just starting in.

  i made a fire and watching it burn, thought of your future.

  i bowed my head and smiled through a set of uneven tear drops.

  no sobs. nothing left to rattle this temporary rental.

  just the music and the memories of Nick’s wedding.

  a red pickup pulled in behind me, horn blasting.

  driver leaning out of the window. genial requests for me to get the fuck moving.

  it was shaping up to be a day full of sound advice.

  someone up there must have real anxious to get me where i was going…

  i wiped the salt from my eyes, put the car into drive.

  careful to make it onto the interstate without coming to a premature end.

  …because that would have been a little much, don’t you think?

  ###