A Shameful Autobiography
by
Richard Reed Jr
copyright 08-10-2006
Age Rating: 10 to 127
Is the phone ringing again?
It can't be. It must be a dream.
It keeps on ringing and ringing -it never stops.
I'll probably hear it the rest of my life.
What Can I do? What could I have done?
I can't remember when it started,
or how long it's been going on.
I remember the first time.
It was sometime during the eleven o'clock news.
She said, "Hello!" I mumbled a few salutary greetings.
I knew her -yes, but just barely.
We had gone out a few times, and yes -I
Did talk her into going to bed with me.
"How you doing?" she asked, then said,
"I was just thinking about you and decided to call
to find out how you're doing."
I muttered something with irritation in my voice.
It was a weeknight.
I had to get up very early for work the next day.
I thought it terribly rude of her to call me then,
but she just went on talking -as though we'd
known each other for a year and a day.
"There's something about you." she said,
"I know that I like you very much, and I know
that it's not supposed to be this way.
I mean I know I should wait for you,
but I'm asking you to be my steady."
Wow, did that ever throw me for a loop.
I protested as politely and reasonably as I could.
"But we've only had a few dates." I argued.
To which she reminded me that we had slept together.
I pleaded with her to postpone the discussion
to a more favorable time, she pleaded with me to keep
talking. As time went on I noticed a very pronounced
slurring to her speech and talked her into confessing
that she was drinking and taking drugs.
She kept on talking about going steady.
I kept repeating my argument.
We argued for hours going nowhere, but around.
I felt aware she was getting higher and higher.
Then, I attempted to excuse myself,
"Please I begged, let's talk tomorrow,
It's late and I must get to work early tomorrow.
She began alluding to suicide with hints,
like "Maybe I won't be able to talk to you tomorrow,
maybe I won't be here tomorrow.
And other hints which I should have recognized,
but didn't.
Several times I attempted to hang up.
Every time I would say goodbye,
she would beg me to stay,
but when I stayed she just repeated
the same things which I didn't want to hear.
In my extreme feeling of irritation,
I finally blurted out a quick goodbye
and hung up, leaving her hanging
there alone, full of booze and pills.
The next morning my phone rang. It was her best friend
calling to tell me she had died from an overdose of
drugs. The police never ruled suicide in or out. Her
friend ruled it in and called me every day for months
screaming at me, "Killer, murderer. You did it. you
killed her."
I'll never know for sure what really
happened that night, but a friend would have gone to
her house to help her through the night. A friend
would have at least called 911.
A friend would not have placed an early workday before a friend.
Is the phone ringing again?
It can't be. It must be a dream.
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Rich, I agree with everyone on this one: you should not feel guilty and she did bring this on herself! Don't blame yourself, OK? I have to admit, that I felt guilty for my Grand mothers death, even though it wasn't my fault as she had lung cancer. I wish i could of told her to cut out the cigs, the last time I saw her was exactly five months before she passed away and I was depressed for ages after...That is beside the point, it was not your fault! Any way I better go, and I loved this, it is so full of emotion! Great write,
David and Lyle are right. She brought this upon herself. Maybe you could have saved her, but she never came out and asked you to. MAYBE you could have figured out what was happening, but you're not to blame just because you didn't. I, personally, would be wishing I did more, but at the same time, I would not be blaming myself.
The emotions that this piece takes one through are very well conveyed to the reader. I could feel it every step of the way. I could hear the phone ringing, too.
I feel I must agree with David on this one, Richard. We sometimes are guilt ridden with the belief that we shoulda (part of the "shoulda, coulda, woulda syndrome") done something but we didn't and therefore, we are responsible for someone elses bad action or decision. We cannot allow ourselves to do this. We are only responsible for our own behavior (which is more than enough in my opinion). Your prose was well-penned and you've expressed this experience very well, so the reader can feel your pain. But don't let guilt for imagined wrong doing plague you any longer. Though a suicide of someone we;ve known or loved always leaves us wondering if we "coulda" done more, we are not to blame for another's decision.
Dont' you dare take responsibility for this. This was her doing, not yours, her decision, not yours. You may have been able to stop her, but I doubt it. It sounds like she was already too gone.
I think this would be better in the story section of the site, although I know the poem section gets more attention.
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