Gone

 

“I haven’t eaten in 4 days” – she said. “all I do is lie on my bed and cry, and shake ‘cause I need it. I need the drugs that took my life away. This is now a meaningless existence, this has no point”. I tried to persuade her from such a pessimistic statement, but she was already gone. She was sitting right in front of me, but her mind had wandered off again. So we sat down and had some tea.

 

11:15 a.m. again. I’m outside the coffee shop, hanging around, waiting for her. Our conversations seem to get weirder every time we meet. It’s like she leaves pieces of her mind everywhere she goes, so when we get together, she seems more absent minded than on the prior encounter. She drifts off and starts to talk. “I was feeding the birds, on a park, don’t ask me where ‘cause I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know what to say if you asked me where I was.” I wanted to cry, ‘cause I still remembered my best friend as someone who didn’t ramble as much. But I didn’t. I stayed quiet, just listening to her talk every fifteen minutes or so. She wasn’t talkative since the incident. It was like someone had blown out the candle she carried inside.

 

We took off for a walk. It started to rain. I wanted my friend not to get wet, so I offered some solace. She said: “it’s OK, I don’t mind the rain”. I didn’t want her to get sick or anything. So I watched her walk under the rain, after she denied getting under the umbrella with me. There wasn’t much I could do! She was leaving me already. I knew it’d get worse.

 

I offered her a ride home. She agreed. For the first time I felt she was letting me in again. “I only agree to meet you ‘cause I know you like to see me” – she said out of the blue. I nodded and kept on driving. I knew the end was near. As she was getting off the car, I grabbed her arm and said: “if you need anything, I’m just a phone call away OK?”. On that she replied with a smile, one that suggested she didn’t need me. I got scared. So I panicked. I got out of my car, and walked her to the lobby.  She lived in this apartment building, classic 50’s style like you see in the movies. She ended up living alone, right after the incident…

 

Once she was married, led a happy life. One day she got home from hanging out with me, we had gone shopping for silly stuff like wigs and lava lamps, and she found her husband on the floor. He had overdosed on sleeping pills. The tragedy that her eyes saw stayed with her for good. I could see it in her eyes whenever I gazed deep in. She couldn’t mask it. She had lost love, her soul mate. She struggled to keep up a conversation, a routine.

 

When we got to the elevator, I said: “I could go with you, we could watch talk shows and make fun of people with weird hairdo’s…what do you say?”. She looked at me, in fact, she stared at me without talking for a while. “Well?” - I said. “Is that a no?” I was trying so hard to keep my best friend alive. I feared she’d die without Brian. I feared she’d follow his heartbreaking fate. I wasn’t all that wrong.

 

Later that evening, I got a call. My friend was gone. She got into her apartment, cried for a couple of hours, unhooked the phone (she knew I’d be calling); then got a gun out of the drawer, got into bed, put a pillow over her head and killed herself. My very best friend in the entire world was gone. For two years she survived without her other half, but she felt so empty nothing could heal her. A part of her was gone already, and now the other would follow, to get back where she belonged. I sat down and cried, but I wasn’t shocked. I kind of knew, but I didn’t say goodbye. Call it wishful thinking, but I always hoped she’d stick around. I hope she knew I love her. I hope she reunited with her long lost love, and that they are now looking down on me, as I mourn this loss. I think about her everyday, but I know she’s better off. I know she is home.