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No, suicide is never the answer.
No. Never.
“When you’re seventeen, and you’ve just tried to kill yourself, all you want is to be left alone,” I said. Jamie and I had been staring at each other the whole time I’d gone through my internal monologue. Almost like I wasn’t just talking to me anymore… but to him as well. He looked at me attentively, arms crossed, with a thoughtful expression on his face. As if he had so many things he wanted to address, but he didn’t say a word.
I continued, “That didn’t change. I thought I’d want to be alone for the rest of my life. Whatever was left of it, anyway. And then… at Portland State… I met Dave.”
I’d been on meds for years, I hadn’t had any other relationships, and the darkness from my past seemed more tolerable. No, it hadn’t gone away. Some nights, even after all the therapy, I still thought about my dad. I still thought about Jamie, too. I still pondered the meaning of life and what lie beyond and why any of this was worth it at all. But, somehow—maybe because of the meds—the pain didn’t affect me the same way it once had.
I had a better grasp on the sadness as an eighteen-year-old freshman living on her own in downtown Portland. Better than I had as a seventeen-year-old junior and, then, senior in high school who still felt like a kid.
“Dave was a computer science major at PSU,” I told Jamie, aware he’d overheard me thinking about all of this. “I was creative writing. We met as freshman.”
“So, how’d the two of you meet then?” he asked. “Creative writing and computer science… pretty different.”
“Yeah, well. Dave and I are very different,” I said. Then, “We roomed in the same dorm building.”
Unlike the private dorms at Stony Point, the dorms at Portland State University encouraged more social activities. There was a common room setup incredibly differently than the one at Stony Point.
Jamie and I had always been alone when we watched movies in that common space… in front of the fire, seated on the loveseat together. The space looked and felt more like a reading room you’d find inside a castle, and less like a space for students at a school. Every so often when we arrived, another student would already be there reading in a seat in the far back corner. But they never spoke to us. We remained alone, separate from everyone else, isolated.
At Portland State, the students went out of their way to socialize. Unlike Stony Point, the room itself felt more like the typical common space you’d find in a college. Tile floors, lots of windows, a few computers on tables for public use. Room Assistants—good ol’ RA’s—threw parties in the common room. All the major holidays had an event with cookies and pizza and party streamers and decorations. People studied there on the regular… even sans parties. The administration had placed a piano against the one wall—and often times whole groups crowded around as a student who knew how to play plugged away modern songs as well as classics. While the rest sang out the lyrics.
“My first semester,” I said, “I spent most of the time alone in the dorm. My roommate… she used to laugh at me. But she never bothered me about it. She just let me be.”
“So…”
“So… one night, as I was passing through the common area, this guystoppedme,” I said. “I didn’t know his name. Just that I’d seen him before because… everyone had seen him. He was one of those guys who always had to be the life of the party.”
“Dave?”
“The one and only. One of those dudes who was either drunk or high or some combo of the two every time you saw him.”
“He sounds like your perfect type.” Jamie smirked, nudging me with his shoulder. I nudged him back and started laughing.
“Oh, shut up, you.” I poked him in the stomach. “After this story, I want to hear all about this ex-girlfriend of yours. I bet she was a real peach.”
“Let’s stick to you and Dave,” he said. “You know… Mr. Frat Boy.” He clasped his fingers together and placed them on his lap, clear blue eyes gazing on me with a focus I’d never known from him. Though I was starting to notice the same pattern as before with Jamie not wanting to discuss his life… he seemed especially touchy when it came to this ex of his.
“How does it go from a drunk guy stopping you in the common room,” Jamie said. “To ending up as his girlfriend?”
“Uh, so, it didn’t. Not for a very long time. He stopped me… by bumping into me. Literally. He was drunk and being an obnoxious asshole. I decided he annoyed me beyond belief. So… I yelled out… ‘you asshole’… loud enough for the entire room to get quiet.”
“Love at first sight.”
“Oh, believe me, if you’d told me I’d end up marrying that guy… I would have probably shot myself right then and there…”
The last part of that sentence left my mouth before I had the chance to stop. Jamie’s eyes widened, then his gaze softened, and his lips curled into a sort of half smile.
“Sorry… I… guess I didn’t mean that.” I shrugged. “Anyway, yeah. A year later, I guess he got his act together. He wasn’t drunk or high like that anymore. We both took this ballroom dancing elective the same semester. The professor made us dance together once. And the rest is history.”
“That’s a lol moment,” he said. “Okay. The professor makes you dance with Mr. Frat Guy and then you end up marrying the dude.”
“I guess so.” I took another swig of the wine, finishing off the contents.
“And, now,you’vebecome the drinker,” Jamie said matter-of-fact. Under his breath, he added, “I know that drinking thing all too well.”
“Yup, that about sums up my life,” I said, ignoring his drinking comment. He would probably tell me to drop the subject, anyway. I added, “I’ve become one of those stereotypical, drunk writers. Except… I’m one drink shy of having a problem.” I flicked the now empty Styrofoam cup across the floor, watching as a few drops what was left inside splatter on the wood.
