Hope’s face was pale, her eyes dead. Aubrey raised an eyebrow with worry at her roommate. She was a little gun shy after being shot down with few terse “Nothing” from Hope whenever she inquired what was wrong.
But something was off. Hope’s eyes bore the raccoon mask of sleepless nights. The girl who would normally share the jokes of the day with her or the loss of a favorite patient at Two Oaks Retirement Home was strangely mute. She didn’t spend as much time just giggling on the couch with her.
Of course not. She’s got a boyfriend, Aubrey said to herself for the millionth time. People change. They move on. They grow up and expand their lives. Hope finding someone should be something she was pleased about.
Hope had met Josh four months ago through Twitter, and it had been a lightning fast romance.
The bliss of that first week together had been beyond anything Hope could have ever imagined. Things had moved quickly since that time. She had rejoiced when he’d found a house in her town and moved to be by her. She wasn’t yet living with him, but was there often — sometimes for days straight. For a time she felt like she had finally come to life. Her body had hummed with life and sensuality in ways she’d not imaged it to be capable of. But darker times had since settled in on their relationship.
Aubrey didn’t know what to make of her friend’s emotional rollercoaster. After seeing Josh, she’d either be giddy, rosie-cheeked and happier than ever or she’d fall into a deep silence with a distance in her eyes – wanting no comfort of conversation. She would not join Aubrey for walks or try yoga with her – something that usually left them both on the floor after loosing their balance from laughing.
As Aubrey stared at her friend who rested on the couch watching America’s Funniest Videos, the doorbell rang punctuated by the audience’s laughter at some clip. Hope made no acknowledgement of the sound so Aubrey set down the knife she was chopping carrots with and headed to the door, wiping her hands on a towel.
She opened the door to the blond hair, hazel-eyes, and broad smile of her love.
“Hi, hon,” she said jumping into his arms with a kiss.
Hope shifted on the couch when she heard Aubrey greet her boyfriend, Brad. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his tall form. His short blond hair was perfectly messed up in its usual fashion. His eyes twinkled with happiness as he gazed down at Aubrey.
Hope winced slightly watching the pair embrace.
“Come on, man o’ mine and help me finish this dinner,” Aubrey said.
As he nodded, Brad noticed the attentive stare of Hope and gave her a smile.
“Hi. How’s it going?” he asked.
“Fine,” she answered coolly, her single syllable topped with the absence of a smile. She rose from her lounging place and exited to her bedroom. The door creaked shut a moment later.
“She okay?” Brad asked, though the answer was obvious.
Aubrey shrugged. “I don’t think so, but she won’t talk about it if something is wrong.”
Her forehead crinkled slightly with concern, pondering again the moodswings of her friend. Shaking it off with the shudder of someone who’s just had her grave walked over, she handed a wooden spoon to Brad.
“Stir the sauce for me?”
From her room, Hope heard a burst of laughter.
Brad was the perfect partner for Aubrey. They had met a year ago at the radio station where Aubrey worked as a reporter. They’d found a shared a passion for language, music, and fine food. They were both hopeless romantics who clearly felt the sun rose and set in their lover’s eyes. They made a striking couple, as he was the fair counterpart to Aubrey’s black hair and olive skin.
It was the kind of relationship Hoped dreamed of and had thought she’d found with Josh, but that wish bore cracks like a neglected windshield, splitting till it blurred the vision of before.
The jealousy she felt watching Aubrey and Brad, the loathing she felt for herself, the longing to be loved welled up in her till she wanted to scream. The tears flowed but they weren’t enough to release the pain.
Only one thing would relieve this. Only one thing would let it out. Hope took the razor blade out from her bedside table drawer, along with some gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and cotton balls.
She took off her shoes, socks, and pants. She clutched the razor blade and made a tiny river of blood on her thigh again and again.
Finally, she was calm again. She cleaned and bandaged the wounds. No one but Josh knew what it took sometimes to make it through a day for her. Like her scars, she kept the depths of her pain hidden.
* * *
A few days later the smell of garlic, onions and mushrooms sautéing laced the air. Sarah McLachlan played on the stereo as Hope cooked. Josh returned from his evening walk. She ran to him, threw her arms around his neck and placed a long kiss on his lips.
“Hey there. Dinner’s almost ready. Could you set the table?” she asked.
She busied herself tearing apart a head of lettuce and dumping pasta to the boiling water. As he came up beside her to grab glasses, she’d playfully bumped her hip into his. He laughed and smiled at her. She gave him a quick peck and returned to her cooking. It had been a good night, free of the arguments that were becoming more frequent.
He bent down to pick up the gray kitten he’d picked up shortly after moving in. He’d named her Luna. He doted on her far more than most humans. After a brief cuddle he set her back down to go romp and play.
Hope stared at his sweet face, his jaw so strongly carved, his deep brown eyes. There wasn’t anyone more beautiful to her. His smile lit her up.
“I love you, hubby,” she said to him across the room.
“Love you, too, wife,” he returned with a broad smile.
“Love you love you love you love you,” she chanted.
They had come to use the words wife and hubby as symbols of affection and the future that surely lay ahead. But the endearments weren’t enough to keep the blissful peace for long. Something always shattered their fragile truce. It might be a look she unconsciously threw him. She might not praise him in a manner he wanted. Or she might hurt him like she did this night by asking whether he’d gone out on the town that day to look for a job.
He exploded in a rage.
Her eyes were wide and unbelieving. She said, “Stop, Josh, just stop.”
He did not even acknowledge her as he paced in front of her shouting.
“Stop. Stop. Just stop!” She screamed the last syllable.
He ceased the verbal flood and looked at her, eyes burning with hate. Hope stared at the man who had once won her heart, been sweeter and kinder than anyone she’d met. She didn’t know what happened to that man. There wasn’t even a glimmer of the person who’d take her face in his hands and weep because he found her so beautiful. The stranger before her did not resemble that person at all.
Hope looked down, studying the patterns of the rug. After a moment she said, “Don’t ever talk to me that way again.”
He moved in until he was inches away from her and said, “Or what?”
“It’s over.”
“If I’m so horrible, just end it,” he challenged.
Stunned she wasn’t able to answer.
“You blame this all on me, like you’re so innocent. I’m sick of that,” Josh said and with a fast stroke he laid a backhand across her face that sent her consciousness spinning for a moment.
Neither had heard the knock at the door, nor its opening. Brad, who was dropping off a housewarming gift on behalf of he and Aubrey, rushed Josh and pinned him against the wall not letting him move.
“Get the Hell out of here for a few minutes,” Brad said. Josh shook him off wordlessly, his eyes never leaving Hope’s face.
He turned and got his coat. Slamming the apartment door behind him, he walked out into the night.
Brad took Hope in his arms and held her while her tears flowed.
“Are you all right?”
She’d nodded. “I want to ask you something.”
“Sure. Anything, Hope. You know that Aubrey and I are here for you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to help you earlier.”
“You have to swear to me. Aubrey can’t know.”
“Ah,” he sighed. “You can’t ask me that.”
“I mean it, Brad. It wasn’t a big deal. It never happened before.”
He shot her a look of disbelief.
“Nothing justifies what he did,” he said. He noticed her grimace and softened somewhat. “You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who will treat you well, care for you, be there for you.”
“He is,” she shot back.
“No, he’s not. He might want to be, but he’s not.”
Hope glared at him, aching inside. He’s wrong. He doesn’t know how good Josh is to me. He’s not perfect, no one is. But he loves me. I know he does.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” he said. “I know you probably think I’m the biggest ass on the planet right now, and I’m sorry. I’m worried about you. Aubrey is worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I can handle my own life. Now promise me. Promise me you won’t tell her.”
“Come on,” he pleaded.
“No. Promise! Let me live my life. She doesn’t need to know. It has nothing to do with her.”
“Of course it does. She loves you. Aside from that, it would be a complete breech of trust if I kept this from her. She’d never forgive me for not telling her. Now I won’t say anything if you want to tell her, but she needs to know. She’d want to be there.”
“You’re being melodramatic. I’m fine. If I feel like I need to talk to someone I will, but it’s my choice. Not yours.”
Rather than further push her away, he nodded.
“Okay. I hate it. But I want to do whatever you need,” Brad said, adding in his mind even if it’s not what’s best. “I mean it though. We are here for you.”
* * *
Two weeks had passed. Aubrey watched the laughter in her friend’s eyes slowly drain. She was an infrequent visitor now to the apartment, spending her time with Josh and work. But Hope had come home yesterday evening. A quiet pondering seemed to have settled upon her. After dinner she’d slipped into her room, but Aubrey could hear her now fluttering at the other end of the apartment.
Hope’s back ached as if someone had taken a 2”x4” to her. All morning she had been nauseous, throwing up anything she dared to eat.
As she hugged the toilet, waiting for the wave of sickness to pass, she relived the moment when the doctor told her she was pregnant.
God, how stupid could I be?
She hadn’t told anyone yet. Not Aubrey. Not her mother. Not Josh. She needed to figure out in her own head what she wanted to do first. She felt like Hell so now wasn’t the time to tell anyone. The thought of all the well-meant advice pouring in was dizzying.
She couldn’t stand all of the noise filling her head right now. She had enough without the chorus of friends and family adding their harmonies.
Finally, Hope felt she could brave standing up again. She washed her face and brushed her teeth with robotic disassociation. Her life was transformed to the point where she didn’t recognize it. Here she was only 22 in the most intense, screwed-up relationship she’d ever been in, and she now had to think about having a child.
The practicality of abortion held no appeal. The life growing inside of her sang loudly, and she thought it beautiful. She’d curse herself forever if she ended it. She had no right to chose whether the child should come into this world or not. She just had to deal with the fact she had screwed up.
She could hear the singing of Aubrey as she moved about cleaning her room. She’d sense something was wrong soon if she hadn’t already. Aubrey would push until she knew the details of Hope’s problem.
Hope could already picture with crystal clarity the look of disappointment in Aubrey’ eyes. The look that said, “What on Earth were thinking and how could you be so stupid?”
The words would be unsaid, but the look would speak deafening volumes.
Oh well. She’ll say what she wants. It doesn’t matter.
She opened the bathroom door only to nearly slam straight into Aubrey. Both startled and then giggled.
Hope noticed the pale countenance of her roommate and asked if she was okay.
She started to answer yes, when a searing pain in her abdomen bent her in half, and she nearly dropped to the floor.
Aubrey grabbed her and holding her up led her down the short hallway to her room.
Once Hope laid down, Aubrey asked, “What’s going on, Hope? Do I need to get you to a doctor?”
Aubrey stroked her friend’s hair as her face contorted with pain.
“I think it’s the baby,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Baby? Oh Christ, Hope! Why didn’t you tell me?” Aubrey stopped herself. “I’m sorry. Hold on.”
Aubrey pulled out her cell and made a quick call to the emergency room at Mercy Medical Center and helped her friend to the car.
Once at the hospital, Aubrey placed several calls to Josh’s cell phone before getting through. He agreed to come over and seemed in genuine disbelief about the whole episode. He was as clueless and stunned as she had been. The coldness of his tone and his seeming lack of concern grated on her and she eagerly awaited his arrival to read the emotions on his face and see if they matched the tone of his voice on the phone. If so, she would likely let him know exactly what a callous bastard he was.
She paced and paced in the waiting room after giving up on the five-year-old Redbook and four-year old McCall’s. She could have cared less what diet Oprah was using at that moment or how to turn her man on in bed even after 10 years of marriage.
Finally, she spotted Hope being wheeled down the hallway by a doctor. She looked better than before and relief flooded Aubrey.
After a barrage of questions, the bottom line was Hope was now fine as was the baby, but if anything unusual was noticed she should come immediately to the emergency room.
Thank God, thought Aubrey as she dropped to her knees and hugged Hope.
“Let’s get home,” Aubrey said.
“I’ll take her home,” a familiar deep voice said as Josh approached.
“I don’t think…” Aubrey began.
“We need to be together right now, talk about a few things, don’t we, Hope?” he said cutting her off.
Hope weakly nodded and gave Aubrey a look that begged, Please don’t interfere. Let me handle this.
“All right then,” he said and stood her up out of the wheelchair and arm in arm led her out the door as Aubrey watched them walk away.
Damn it, Hope. I hope you know what you’re doing.
* * *
The drive to Josh’s apartment was filled with silence. Inside her head, Hope played out both sides of the unspoken battle. How could you not tell me? I didn’t know what I wanted. Are you sure I’m the father? Christ, how can you ask me that? The tennis game of rage bouncing from side to side.
He uttered not one word as he got out of the car then walked toward the house. Hope took a deep breath, opened her door, and followed down the stone path to the entrance.
Once inside the storm hit. Each side tossing stabs, accusations, months of disappointments, fears and anger. They cut deep through the personal armor, going for the fatal wounds.
Hope almost felt woozy from the emotions raging through her. She felt overwhelmed and yet at the same time strangely aloof – as though she was merely observing the fight.
* * *
The next days were filled with many tearful discussions. Voices rose. Tempers flared. Hearts shut down.
After one shut battle, Josh rose and left the room to be filled with the sound of her tears. Slowly the sorrow seeped out of her. Wasted and drained, Hope searched within for the one emotion she’d not known recently: peace.
She went to the bedroom to find it empty and dark in the early morning hour. She then realized as she headed back up the hallway that the bathroom light was on. She knocked and stepped through. She expected to find him sitting on the toilet or on the counter, but she saw he was in the bathtub. A steak knife was in his hand as he hugged his knees to his chest, nearly naked clad only in underwear. He was starring at his wrists with frustrated tears. He wasn’t quite able to open those wrists and let his life pour out.
Taken aback, it took her a few moments to process the scene she’d interrupted. She bolted from the room, down to the living room. She ran to the phone, wanting to call for help. But Josh followed her down the hall and took the phone from her hand.
He said he was very sorry. He didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t really do anything to himself. He was just overwhelmed. He felt so alone in this new town. He was disheartened by the lack of work and now scared to death that a child was on the way. He rambled on and on until she seemed like she wasn’t going to make a leap for the phone. He placed it back on the receiver on the end table.
“I never thought my life would be like this,” he said, unconsciously playing with the knife in his hand.
The last ounce of love broke inside her, and anger grew in its place. She was tired of his tirades, his fists, and his weakness in the face of responsibility. He couldn’t even end things properly. But she could. She could end his pain and hers.
She knelt down in front of him. One hand caressed his cheek; the other gently lifted the knife from his hand.
“Shh,” she said. “I’ll help you.”
Then she plunged the knife in and sliced his stomach from his navel almost to the breastbone. She held him down as he fought the coming darkness. It took a while, but finally he was gone. As she released him he fell to his side on the couch. She wiped the handle of the knife and put it back in his hand.
* * *
Luna nosed the body of her owner, which rested on the couch, perfectly positioned to catch the morning sun creeping in through the nearly closed Venetian blinds. Though what she smelled was new to her, the kitten nonetheless sensed it wasn’t a good odor.
As she sniffed her master’s face, which rested on the couch cushion, her nose brushed the blood that had seeped from the body’s mouth. She rubbed her nose with her paw and cleaned herself. She liked the salty, sweet taste. She returned to the source, lapping at the coagulated liquid, nibbling at the tender lips.
In time she gave into the call of the sunlight’s warmth. She curled up on the top of the couch in the morning light and fell asleep.
A pounding came at the door. A rapid series of thumps repeated over and over. A deep male voice called out, “Josh? Josh? Are you there? It’s Alan. Mr. James has been calling you for three days. He asked me to come by and see if you were around.”
The lean blond man walked around to the side of the building. He looked through the tiny crack in the blinds. First he saw Josh on the couch in an awkward fashion on his side. His cat rested on the top of the couch above him. Then he saw the blood.
Alan nearly fell as he ran to his car to get his cell out from his coat pocket to call the police.
* * *
The finding of unattended death is a noisy business: the wail of sirens, the chattering over radios and cell phones, the parade of technicians.
Though it was a fairly bloody site, it seemed a straightforward enough case. There were no signs in the home of a struggle. The knife in his hand would be tested, but it appeared from the way he was holding it that Josh had simply sat down on his living room couch and decided to gut himself. An apparent suicide note rested on the table.
They’d already conducted the interview with Alan who had discovered the body and managed to put the cat they’d found into a carrier so it wouldn’t run away as they worked. They would scour the house, take their samples, and do some testing; but they didn’t expect to find evidence of anyone in the house besides Josh and his girlfriend.
Though it seemed a simple case, it had it’s own gruesome quality. Josh’s face bore the aftermath of his hungry feline’s feasting. After his death he had fallen over, his head resting on the couch cushion allowing his lips to become a macabre sort of kitty delicacy.
Hope had been alerted to the finding as she had been listed as the next of kin on his work papers. She’d excused herself from her shift at the retirement center and sped toward the home.
Though not a suspect in any foul play, they questioned her thoroughly to get a clear vision of Josh’s state of mind right before the incident. It was further confirmation of their working theory of suicide.
She spent hours answering questions about how they’d fought and she’d left, how he’d been as prone to sorrow as violence. They thanked her for her time and told her they would be in touch.
It was a calm warm night as Hope drove toward her apartment. Luna rested in the carrier on the passenger seat. At a stoplight she reached over and stroked the kitten’s bloody chin. Luna purred contentedly.
Hope smiled as the light turned and continued on home. It had been such luck that in the cleaning up she’d returned to the bathroom and discovered his note. She’d discovered it resting on the counter after she washed her hands. As she read, she understood he’d written it while lost in a desire to end his life. He hadn’t been able to follow through on the note’s intent on his own, but it remained too great a gift to be ignored. Simple. To the Point. Perfect.
The first line read simply: I go now to my final repose.