Suicidal

History

It was a long first day, and as I walked into my room after school I found myself experiencing an intense wave of déjà vu. I knew I'd felt this before, it was so familiar to me. I threw my coat over the railing at the foot of my bed and stood there, remembering everything. I crawled onto the bed and ran my fingers across the sheets; almost as if I would feel her if I tried hard enough to remember the last time she was here, sitting next to me. Memories kept rushing back, and more and more recently now I was starting to remember them. Ever since her disappearance things memories I didn't know I'd remembered so vividly were replaying themselves in my head. And the problem is that this town is so small that there is no where I can go where my memories don't follow. 

           "Sometimes I swear I don't even know when I'm alone anymore, it's like I always feel someone breathing on my shoulder," she says, throwing her parka over the railing of my bed like always and falling across the sheets in an exhausted heap. I just stood there, looking at her, taking in her beauty in the simple way she sprawled out. I was so in love with this girl, it was almost like she was becoming an addiction. The more I looked at her the more I wanted her in my arms, just to keep there for as long as I can. She noticed my absence from the conversation and looked up expectantly. She gestured for me to come sit next to her.

"Oh you're allowing me onto my bed?"I joke as get comfy, aching to scoop her up in my arms.

"I think I might be able to make an exception," she says, sitting up and taking my hand. There was a different atmosphere around her. She twiddled with my fingers and I just watched with curiosity. We stayed that way for a few minutes, and as she looked elsewhere I had the chance to study her face, her features, her uniqueness and radiance. When she finally looked up her beautiful green eyes caught my gaze just inches away from my face.

That was the day I finally admitted that she was the one thing I couldn't live without. I guess at the time I didn't know I wouldn't have a choice. But is this really living, what I'm doing?

I don't regret one single thing about that day except that I didn't take what she was saying more seriously. I'd been too distracted by my feelings for her and what I could never have. 

But I'd given Brody my blessing and he'd made her his, staked his claim before I ever had the guts to even try. That was what made that memory so hard for me to accept, despite the fact that it was the single most beautiful and incredible day of my life. And despite the fact that I've wanted her since the moment she first stumbled into my arms, having tripped over a raised tree root at recess. It seems over the years I've caught her quite a lot, in many different ways.

"You have no idea how bad I want a sandwich right now." Brody falls onto the bed next to me, shaking me out of my memory violently. I scooted away from him and just stood up, walking out the room. "Where are you going!" he calls.

"To make your fucking sandwich," I grumble as I close my door behind me. I was upset he'd interrupted me from my thoughts. He doesn't follow, which means his intent was definitely to have me make him a sandwich, so he'd make sure I remained uninterrupted this time. Frankly I just didn't want to be around him right now, everything about him made me upset. Just the atmosphere he brings around him these days is sour and irritable. To be fair he's always been sort of a dickhead, but lately it's become unmanageable even for me. 

Brody is grieving for Martie in a very unconventional way. He wasn't emotional about Martie's disappearance, and I can understand how he would want to keep his cool and be rational about it, but he doesn't have to act like she meant nothing. He says she was everything, and he says he loved her, but he doesn't act on it. I haven't noticed a change at all. Except for the day of and the day after, but moving on from it, he's still the same. And I hate him for it.

Martie changed people. She changed me.

            I went back into the room and handed him his sandwich. He sat up and took the plate, thanking me and setting the book he was reading down. Brody didn't know what had happened between Martie and I this summer, and he doesn't really have to hear it now. Just because it's the best memory I have doesn't mean it was supposed to happen. Deep down, in that pitch black place in my heart I've felt that it was my fault she was gone. It was because of our friendship that she was missing. I couldn't bring myself to understand why I thought that, but I did. That was the only reason I had any resentment about it, not because I was afraid Brody would find out.

            "Thanks," Brody says as he eats, taking a swig out of his water bottle. I nod and pick up one of my textbooks, deciding to get the first days homework over with.

            "What were the pages?" I say, avoiding the thoughts that invaded my mind.

            "Seriously you're gunna do that right now? We've been out of school for twenty minutes, slow down, Jesus you're more eager to graduate than Jack," he rants, leaving the plate on my desk on the other side of the room. I sigh and ignore him, opening my notebook to check the pages myself. I just didn't have anything else to occupy myself with, I would never be as eager to graduate as Jack.

            "Jack already has eight college applications filled out. I'm just doing my homework," I mutter, scribbling down what needed to be written on my math homework. 

            "Still, I would think you're more interested in solving this case with me," he says with a shrug. I look up at him

            "The police are solving the case. And honestly I didn't know you wanted to," I tell him, putting my pencil in the crease of my book. He looks down at his boots, crossing my arms. He was across the room leaning against my desk.

            "They been asking me a lot of questions lately," he says, not looking up at me. "I feel like I should know more than I do. I feel like a bad boyfriend for not knowing what she was doing." I can tell he feels guilty, or sad, or something else he hasn't felt in public for a long time.

            "Well you're not a bad boyfriend for not being with her all day every day," I say quietly. I knew very well that I was the last person reported to see her before she went missing and that normally would've put a strain on my relationship with Brody. But for some reason it didn't. Instead when he heard about this he just nodded and looked the other direction. Of course this piece of information made me a suspect, but I was cleared after my Mom's testimony for my character. She also lied and gave me an alibi for the night they suspect she went missing, never asking me directly where I really was. I think she already knew. 

            "Still," he shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair. It was long and brown and wavy, extending to his ears and over his forehead. He was a football player, which means of course girls love him and his muscles. I wasn't really scrawny, but I definitely wasn't a football player. I had no jersey or team, just my friends, and a girl I love who I know I'll never see again. But I can't think like this. I have to remain positive or I'll be corrupt, and I can't function.

            "I did all I could." I just look back down at my homework and try to focus on my problems.

            "I know, this just really sucks." Brody moves and grabs his bag off the chair, turning towards my door. "See you tomorrow." And then he leaves. Sometimes I don't think Brody really wants to find Martie, or find out what happened to her. I think he's afraid that if we find her and she's dead, he'll never be the same again. He keeps hope that she's alive by her unsolved disappearance having no proof that she's even dead. That's the only way I can keep hope for her.