I walked into my apartment, for the first time in three days. I left the windows open, so there was a freshness about the place that couldn’t be bottled. It was dark, and I left it that way. I sat my lifeless phone on the desk, and walked over to the window, to watch the sun completely diminish in the distance. Once it was completely dark, I lit a few candles around the apartment. The tranquil desolateness was very welcome. I milled aimlessly around the space for a while, touching things, picking up things, thinking.
I eventually found a place to rest — in the middle of the floor, on the plush pile of the cobalt shag rug. Once there, I got comfortable, and took off my jacket and shoes while thinking about the pain Kendall must have been in to kill himself. I began to blame myself, because after all, I was the one he left his family for. I was also the one he left in Japan without an explanation. I was also the one who he lied to for the year and a half we spent together.
I began to undo my hair, as I worried. I worried about Kendall’s two kids, who were too young to understand what was going on. Hell even at 26, I was too young to understand what was going on. I know how hard it was to grow up without my dad, although it was just because he hated who I was, but still. I needed him to be there, and he wasn’t. I worried about his wife, who had to live with the same memories that I do, of watching Kendall throw himself off that bridge, after hours of pleading with him. No matter how many tears Janelle and I shed, no matter how loudly we yelled for him to get down, it wasn’t enough.
I became instantly selfless at that moment. I no longer gave a shit about what he put me through. This was bigger than me. This was bigger than Janelle. I wanted him to be with his family. I wanted him to see his daughter graduate from High school. I wanted him to coach his son’s baseball team. But now, all I could do is sit and think about how those two kids will have to suffer through the story of how their father killed himself, because he lived a lie. A lie that I was apart of. My heart was one thousand times more irreparable than the morning I woke up alone in Japan. Or found out he was married.
As I lay there, in the dark, this surreality began to set in. I no longer felt like this was real life. Watching someone that you care for take their own life puts an entirely new perspective on everything.To know that someone is in so much pain, they can only resort to the most extreme, is painful in itself. A gentle tap on the door snapped me out of my stupor. I didn’t move. I just lay there, as I heard the tumblers rotate. I knew who it was, and felt a slight sense of relief. “Cristian?” I remained silent. My eyes were open, but I couldn’t see anything. I felt Brian’s energy loom over me like a storm cloud. He kneeled to me, and stared at my lifeless face for what felt like forever. He wiped my face with his bare hands, and it wasn’t until then, that I realized that I was crying. He picked my lifeless body up and carried me into my bedroom. He sat me on the bed, and as he tried to lay me down, I couldn’t let go. I unconsciously held onto him with any strength that I could muster. My mind could not let him go.