When I heard she’d been on the floor with a bottle of gin in her hand and one under her head I decided to accompany her brother to her house and talk to her. I looked at her on the floor in the bedroom and hardly recognized her. Her hair wasn’t done like it always was. She was wearing clothing which she hardly ever did. When I saw her she was in something so skimpy I wondered why she even bothered to dress at all. This time she was in sweat pants and a long sleeve shirt. No skin showing at all. Red. She was wearing a red shirt and black sweat pants or visa versa. I just remember all the red in the room. This little thing’s queen size bedspread was red. Her sheets were silky and red, bathrobe red. There was a lot of red in that room.
I knelt down beside her and she grabbed on to my hand and thanked me for coming down. She said she wasn’t sure if I’d come or not. I didn’t say anything. I was annoyed that she was drunk as all get out and lying on the floor like a bum. I was annoyed but not impertinent. As she held my hand and over thanked me she turned to some guy laying on the bed and commanded him to light her a cigarette. Without hesitation he did. She took a few drags then handed it to him to snuff out. Her brother came in the room with some food which she flatly refused. The man and her brother told her she needed to eat and how she’d ruin her health if all she did was drink. She then told her brother to take the food away and bring her another bottle. He left then returned with what she demanded.
I was dumbfounded by how much control she had over people. She commanded them to light a cigarette then she’d take two or three drags then hand it back to them to snuff out for her. She didn’t cook for herself or do anything for herself. Everyone served her and took orders as if they were owned by her.
I thought she was manipulative, self centered, cold blooded and dominating. I thought she was a broken little girl lost and I thought she was a just another belligerent drunk which is why I pulled my hand back from her and said, “You need to get up and live.” That’s the only thing I came down here to say. I came to tell you to get off the floor, get a shower and something to eat. Do your hair and look like the girl I know. You need to get up and live. She replied with, “Light me a cigarette.” I said, “Fuck you, light your own.” I turned around and left.
The next day her brother told me she was in the hospital and I thought, wow, she’s got to be enjoying all that attention. Her family from Chicago and California were in the city to see her. I thought, wow, she’s eating this up for sure.
Guilt comes in because I told a suicidal person to fuck off and that I (with good intentions) told her to get up. I offered no compassion at all. I’m sure it was obvious that I struggled to hide how annoyed I was with the whole situation. I thought it was ridiculous. Seeing her on the floor like that looking like a mop head in sweats, that was crazy. I hardly recognized her. I was told she’d been down there for days which angered me even further. I was angry with her for ……… a million different things but never in my wildest dreams did I think she was suicidal. I thought she was ‘just’ on some binge or something. I had no idea where she was emotionally. I said things I can’t take back. I didn’t even say that to her. I didn’t say it to anyone. I just thought it. I thought it and rolled my eyes that she was once again the center of attention. The woman was on life support and I thought she was eating it up that her family was once again focused solely on her.
I feel like a worthless piece of shit for missing the clues.
The last thing is this. If I could say anything to her right now it wouldn’t be pleasant. I’d tell her, I fucking hate you for being dead.
Part of me wants to visit the grave but at this point I’d just sit and weep. I fucking hate her for being dead and for putting the temptation of suicide in front of everyone.
Suicide and Guilt- Tuesday, June 12, 2012 – 2:42am EST