She’d been down a few weeks by then. I felt I should do something more than offer an ear to scream into, so I organised a night out. Me, Adam, her and what ended-up as her brother’s hair-dresser’s sister’s yoga teacher. Something like that anyway. No idea who they were, but what the fuck. And she came out of her shell. Which is typical apparently. A kind of last hurrah.
So we’re out and the night progresses. Her and the sister’s yoga teacher’s hair-dresser’s accountant are getting on like a house on fire. He was hilarious. She was giggling like a 6-year old at a puppet show from the get-go. After that they were touchy-feely for the rest of the night. Whispering sweet obscenities into each other’s ear until it was time to split.
At the end of the night, Adam and I saw them off in a cab to what we assumed were a few hours of obscene intimacy after bringing each other to the boil. Turns out she declined. She suddenly said it was too late (no pun intended, I don’t think) and that she’d had a great night and maybe she’d call him another time. According to him, he said ok, she got out at her apartment and he took the cab the rest of the way home. Personally, I think there would have been a bit of ‘tension’ in that moment. Probably a few choice words in the cab as he went back to his apartment. Then onto Pornhub and a few hate-fucking videos to send him off for the night.
Or is that just me?
I found this out later, of course. My first indication that they weren’t going to be the next big thing was the following afternoon. I called her a few times. No luck. At first I assumed they were still hard at it, but by the afternoon I thought it strange that I hadn’t had so much as an emote to confirm that he hadn’t knocked her off and was selling her organs on Ebay.
So I went round. No sign of anyone through the windows. No answer to the bell or knocking. Fortunately, I was in the honoured position of having a spare key, so I myself in. Everywhere was pristine. Books on shelves, carpets clean, no nomadic tribes of dishes colonising the coffee table. Upstairs the beds were made, laundry in the basket. Shoes lined up. Almost made me feel ashamed when I thought about my own position. The only mess was in the bathroom. That’s where I found her.
She was in the bath, head lolling backwards and her throat gaping unashamed to the world. In other circumstances, it could have passed for erotic. Drowned in blood. I’m sure you can imagine. Although, you really can’t.
She’d used one of those straight-edged razors, the ones you see in westerns whenever anyone gets a shave. We wondered where she got it for the longest time and then when they went through her effects – affects? – effects they found a receipt for it and a card for Father’s Day. It was going to be gift for him. That didn’t go down too well.
I almost admire her for the razor. Pills, common place. A razor blade to the wrist, that’s run-of-the-mill, everybody does that. But a razor to the throat. Jesus. That’s ‘Fuck it. I’m done. I am out. Fuck you. Fuck all of you. I am done and out of here.’ That. Is. Fucking. Commitment.
Her dad hasn’t shaved since. He has a beard now. Bushy and black with flecks of grey. Salt and pepper, I think it’s called. The thing is, he looks really good with it. Should have done it years ago. The beard, that is.
So, you know, every cloud.