40 19.2: My World (1/2)
'leave him be, in a time of madness, a time of death'
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My suicide note is quite stupid, I don't even know what Tobias likes about it.
After our little drama, Tobias stood by the shore for a long time, watching my brother do his thing as the sun sunk lower and lower into the sea's embrace. I, however, was adjusting the note's position and checking if it'd be easily noticed by my clumsy brother.
It really shouldn't be missed as it flaps noisily against the bench and the large rock that anchors it.
It's getting late and Jacob should be heading out of the waters any moment now. He does get out and I find Tobias staring at me with big, barking Benji in his arms, anticipating my reaction.
There's nothing to react to. This feels like cheating, but it does make me wonder if someone else had the guts to do something like this. If the mere coincidences we see at the end of movies about someone finding their brother's or lover's suicide note are way more than just 'coincidences'. I wonder if they're interferences like mine.
I wonder that as I watch Jacob pull on his sweater and denim shorts. When he's done dressing up, he gives the sea a final glance before looking in my direction. I remember that the note is right behind me so I step away, then I remember that he can't see me and that I'm not 'blocking' his vision. I sigh wearily.
Jacob walks steadily toward me, shaking the water from his hair before sifting through its golden strands with his fingers. His transparent, cold-blue eyes narrow before he jogs his way to me, his eyes widening and unblinking. And I remember sickeningly that that's what forbidden hope looks like.
He moves past me and kneels in front of the bench on the sand as he cautiously reaches for the rock to move it away. I quickly move to stand in a place where I can better decipher his facial expressions.
He holds the paper in front of him and his face almost falls apart. His eyebrows sink in relief and his eyelids drop as if praying God thank you. He wastes no time to press the paper to his pale lips before bringing it to his chest. And I wonder if my fingerprints are on the paper. I wonder, if my fingerprints aren't really there, would the 'heartprints' I hope I've left behind suffice?
I wonder a lot of things as his flushed cheeks quickly turn wet with his tears as he bows his head and sobs quietly to himself. I hate how hard it is for him. I hate the pain I've caused him. I hate to be his ghost.
I don't realize I'm crying too till Tobias brings it up when he stands next to me and looks at me apologetically. Like he's sorry for the hell I slit my wrists into.
He shouldn't be sorry. My torment will never equate to the sum of torments I've inflicted on everyone who has loved me. Sometimes, too, and I never said that before, sometimes, I wish I could suffer more than that.
Jacob reads it quickly, his glassy eyes devouring my not-enough words as he holds the paper too tight. It's a miracle his fingers don't hole their way through.
”Will that give him peace?” I ask Tobias who's patting down Benji's fur and staring at my brother.
”No,” he says.
I nod with a sigh. He's right. This letter is too late and too empty. In fact, it has no more than five sentences and a sorry 'Dear Jacobsen'. Maybe it's just my last touch he's relishing.
Jacob, I know that there are no existing words, arranged in any possible way, that can both, express my love to you and explain my actions.
”Will it stop him from smoking?” I ask, knowing the answer as I watch Jacob flip the paper to its empty back.
”No.”
Because I know that suicide isn't a side-dish you order and pay for when you love someone as the main dish.
”Then? Why did you say it's a good thing?”
”I didn't,” Tobias says. ”Not entirely,” he looks at me. ”It'll anger him, in fact. But it is a good thing-”
”What-? How?” I say as I study Jacob's disappointed face.
”I mean, my sister just kills herself and compares my love to her as a main dish,” Tobias lifts a brow. ”I'd be pissed.”
I'm taken aback by his response. ”Why did you say you liked my letter then?”
”I liked you writing a letter-” he argues and I shake my head.
”Are you serious? I literally got a poet as a friend and you couldn't even help me in that?” I'm suddenly embarrassed by what I'd written to Jacob as I quickly glance at him to find him hugging the paper to himself, his eyes squeezed shut.
Tobias smiles, the sides of his eyes crinkling. ”You never asked for my services-”
”Are you serious-?”
”Take a joke, Rose,” Tobias then tells me, seeing how much this whole thing means to me. ”I did like your letter-”
”I knew it-” I say, casting down my eyes. ”It wasn't perfect.”
I failed even at that. I feel like I've been breathing 'being-a-disappointment' instead of oxygen my whole existence.
”That's subjective.”
”I should've written it better-” I say and Tobias makes a face.