Barren

He had fallen far, by the looks of it. The rooftop would’ve been easier, cleaner—a swift drop to peace. But no, he was always one for theatrics. The cliff, jagged and ancient, cast its long shadow over his mangled body like it was trying to hide what was left of him, as if even nature felt shame in what he had become. I wanted to feel sick, but I wasn’t. I know I should have felt sick, though I was more curious than anything, curious to see what he had decided to become, the kid I once knew. When the cops rolled around, and saw me, calm as ever, they decided I had gone into shock, no matter what I told them. One of the dispatches drove me over to the hospital, stabbing me in the side with questions about how I was doing at every damn red light. I responded with the same: “I’m fine”, and sometimes adding a: “really!” for flair. In the end the hospital let me go, and the police remembered they had a job to do, and brought me in for questioning.

We talked about him, if there had been any “signs” as they kept calling it, and “no” I told them. He had been his usual self, even up until the night before he… jumped.

That night he threw his curly head backwards over his shoulder and looked straight into my eyes, and I forgot how to breathe. His teeming white teeth fought ruthlessly with his dazzling eyes, all for my attention. I didn’t know what to do, so I leaned in and kissed him, before he had a chance to begin talking about what he was so damn happy about. When he said it was me who made him happy, part of me wanted to believe it, but another part wondered if his happiness was more about the thrill of making the choice of ending his life.

Just like all the other people around me who fall like flies.

When I put it like that, it sounds suspicious, doesn’t it?

Damn why do I keep framing it that way? I’m attracting bad luck I guess, everything I touch seems to die. I am one for melancholy, I know. The next time someone died around me, the police thought so too, and I guess you might even think so. But before I get into it I need to vent something else. I tried dating lately, believe it or not. I don’t even know why, I looked laughable in the dress. The guy went on and talked about something, I don’t really know what. It might have been the pyramids, or was that the previous guy? When we left the restaurant I thought he would look like a dog, mouth watering over a bone, and we would eventually make it over to his place, but he looked disappointed to be honest, and I didn’t get it until I got home and looked at the pissed off face in the mirror—completely fair, my guy.

My manager is starting to side-eye me. I think in a matter of weeks he might have to turn his whole self around and tell me off. I might just make a big scene instead, and spare him the trouble, it’s not like I need an income anyway, I’m just leeching off of mom and dad. I’m low maintenance, lucky them. Food has lost its taste, and it only makes me fat anyways, and the gnawing makes me feel less empty inside.

He had a great head of hair, it sounds weird, I know. I won’t even try to convince you that it doesn’t, but he did. He looked like the kind of guy who, when you pointed it out—would say: “Oh, I never thought about that. I guess I do”, Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I guess it is, but I can tell you one thing, being bald; the people who have lost, have gained the ability to see. That came out more poetical than it needed to be. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. After I went to the precinct with Mr. Prodding, the weight of the moment bore down on me, planting itself in my side where it festered into a tumor. The doctors said it was stress, but they didn’t understand it at all. My life had turned into something out of Groundhog Day after they hospitalized me, after I swore my head off just to get them to check me out. Not that I felt any real responsibility for my health at that point; I had stopped caring after losing him.

There was one person, though—a girl, actually—who taught me how to see.

It was stupid, ah—who am I kidding, you’re the only one who’s ever going to see this. It was beautiful. The girl, the moment, the light that flooded through the window, and warmed her pale face up to a soft smile. If she had been a boy, I would have thought I was in love. She was a warrior, more so than me anyways. She looked up at me, it caught me off guard, she looked straight into my soul, but I couldn’t tear myself away. This 10 year-something girl, standing by the bell, knowing she would never be able to ring it. I felt ashamed, and I knew she saw it in me, this hollowness, a barren landscape, pain, guilt, frustration, she saw you, and him and then she pulled it all out of me, and I finally cried.