...I'll Call YOU

She started weeping again. "...But apparently not. I-I guess I'm not immune to that kinda behavior just 'cause it's my birthday. Party. And...I hate myself for it. For all of it. Everything. You know I really have been going to my A.A. meetings, and just drinking on social occasions like this, but...I guess I still overdid it. I guess alcohol really does shut down my brain and let my...uh...y'know, down there, call the shots. So, if this was a realization I had to make, okay. So be it; message received. ...Maybe I shouldn't drink at all anymore."

She stopped again, to let Susan respond. But this time Susan said nothing. She merely went on staring at the screen, arms crossed. The intervals of a few seconds brought her only replies, in the form of blinks. Patty guessed it was still her turn to speak.

"...As for what happened tonight and what I did, I...I-I guess I can only plead insanity," Patty entreated, her eyes welling up. "That I'm still just a fool in love. Um...see, Jess said you guys should get going, and Jeanine offered to take you home. But..."

This next part was going to be hard.

"...But I said that since you were asleep, you didn't have to go, and that it was okay with me if you stayed over. And that if Jeanine took you both home, you'd be leaving your car. After that, I just...I sat by your side and watched you sleep for a while, and...I...guess the margaritas and my emotions got the better of me. I'm...I'm inclined to say I couldn't help it, Susan—that that's just how much I love you. With all my heart and more. I meant it from the very beginning, since December. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Every hour of every day. I lie awake a little while every single night thinking about you. I swear to god, this is stone-cold sober Patty speaking: I, LOVE, you. And, I... I wanted to make that love to you."

Susan's countenance seemed to soften. But her response was not forgiving.

"Patty...that's not love. ...It's lust. Base, animalistic, horn-dog lust. That's all it was."

The crushed Patty dropped her eyes and exhaled through the nose.

"...I-I-I know that was a really weird and stupid way to show it, Susan. You have to believe me, please, if I could go back and do this night over again, I wouldn't have touched those margaritas. But I can't. All I can do now's ask for your forgiveness. I'll do anything it takes to make you trust me again. Even if it means waiting until the end of time, and suffering through all of hell and beyond and back again. I know I still won't be able to stop thinking about you. I guarantee you, a year from now, five years from now, ten, fifty, a hundred years. My love'll still be every bit as pure and true."

Susan shut her eyes, took a few more deep breaths, and let her head shake. This time Patty didn't have more words queued up. She'd let Susan go ahead and say what she wanted to say. If anything. Minutes seemed to pass until it felt like an eternity.

Susan, please, say something, thought Patty. Something. Anything!

Eventually, she did.

"Patty... you don't know what went through my mind when I woke up right then and there."

Patty dropped her eyes. She picked up her tea and sipped, mostly just to hide her face.

"I-I mean, I...for god's sake, I come to your place for a nice birthday party, and-and I...y'know what, maybe I drank a little too much too. But that doesn't make what happened okay. I have some drinks at your party, next thing I know I'm in your bed, in your arms, you're kissing me, then as I'm waking up, you grab me?? You have any clue what that feels like??"

Patty put down her cup, feeling shamed and skeevy all over again. She began for the first time to see this through Susan's eyes.

"...I guess it must've felt pretty creepy."

"It was more than creepy, Patty. You went way past crossing a line here. I may've only woken up for two seconds, but I know what I felt. I know what was happening. If I hadn't woken up and stopped you right then, you would've just kept going.

"...You would've raped me."

Patty felt as if she'd just been socked in the tummy. Oh my god, she thought in sudden, consternated horror.

She's right. I would've!

"Now, lemme be clear here: I get that that might be a little confusing for you after we Skype-sexed all those times. I do. The difference is, I consented to you touching yourself, and that's it. Not me. Patty, don't you get it? For hell's sake, you didn't have permission! The fact that we were both completely dressed is the only reason I'm not construing it as rape! I never once consented to you touching me this way, and tonight was no different. Patty...you have to accept and respect people's boundaries. Me making you touch yourself like that was supposed to be a form of training. Getting you to recognize and exercise restraint. But apparently when alcohol's involved, all that shit goes right out the window. Don't you see? Left to your own devices... you simply can't be trusted."

Patty started to cry again.

"Patty...I feel like I don't know you at all now. In one night, you destroyed everything it took us four months to build together."

Patty dropped her face in her hands. "Susan, I'm sorry!" she bawled through them.

Sigh. "I'm sorry too, Patty...really, I am. I...this-this really hurts, and I really hate that I have to say it..."

She heard Susan's voice crack just a little. She made herself look back up at the screen.

"...But I don't think we can be friends anymore."

Patty's heart shattered.

"I'm...I'm really sorry, Patty. This hurts me too. 'Cause your friendship meant a lot to me."

Meant. Again, the past tense. It tore Patty apart inside.

"...But I just can't see you the same way after what you did to me tonight."

"Oh god, Susan, please!" Patty implored through her wet paws. "Please don't do this!"

"Patty, I hate that this is happening between us too. I'm truly saddened by it. But my mind's made up. I'm sorry. Goodbye."

Patty gasped and looked up. "Wait!—"

But it was too late; Susan had disconnected. Patty found herself staring at an open, blank Skype window. Before she knew it, her vision went blurry and distorted. Her already spent eyes produced another stream of crestfallen tears, putting each before to shame. A mere hour and a half ago, Patty was the happiest she'd ever been. Now she was beyond heartbroken. What a difference one semi-drunken act of indiscretion could make in just a brief matter of time. As Patty collapsed and buried her face in the dining room table, she realized that she'd been fooling herself all along. Life had not decided to start treating her nicely. Patty had always wanted to like and enjoy life, and really did try her best, with good intentions. But no matter how hard she tried... life hated her.

It really does...doesn't it. Life just hates me. All it does is shit on me. I really thought my 23rd birthday might be some sorta turning point...like Susan said. But...I was just fooling myself... wasn't I. This isn't ever gonna stop, is it? Life, why do you hate me??!

Patty couldn't take this. She couldn't bear the thought of an entire lifetime of heartbreak waiting for her. She tried to take joy in the nice things, the little things. She missed being a child, when life was simple. As she grew up, it seemed anything she appreciated or enjoyed became...tarnished, in a way. Peers in school mocked her, the way she spoke, acted and dressed. They made fun of whatever Patty held dear, just to pick on her. When she carved out small slices of happiness, she somehow couldn't help but imagine how others would destroy them, tearing into her feelings and the things she liked. For example, she had a series of pop-up books for children. Their content was so sweet, innocent, adorable, and wonderfully suited for little ones...but now when Patty read them, into her mind unbidden swam mean and cruel things bullies would say about them. Other hobbies and amusements now affected her the same way. She knew deep down that this was silly, that what they said shouldn't matter in the least. And she didn't mean to conjure them; it was merely the way her mind worked. She knew and resented that folks would say, "Why do you let it bother you?"

"Let" it, she'd think. As if there's some kind of choice involved. Drunk or sober, her emotions always got the best of her. Her constant masturbation was a source of happiness, but made her feel weak of will. And a bit needy. She didn't know why she was made to feel these ways. It wasn't fair. She was a kind, good-hearted person, with real attributes to offer. She had her share of flaws, but so did everyone. Nobody was perfect. At least Patty tried to do her best...most of the time. Sometimes she just didn't have the energy, but...

She raised her head from the table and turned her tearful gaze upwards.

"I tried!!" she wailed. "I really really did!!"

She had to indulge her feelings. There was far too much to even attempt to hold in. It had built up over 23 sometimes nice, but overly rough years. She was still so young, just a baby in the eyes and words of others, and yet...she felt she'd endured as much tragedy and misfortune as would one twice her age. Some of it was brought on by herself, a result of her own poor decisions, but so very much else thrust upon her unmotivated. And she could will herself to be strong, and push and get through a lot, but...

...But not this. Not utter alienation from the woman of her dreams. The girl she loved more than anything. Patty didn't know if she could ever get over this. Laptop still in front of her, she opened iTunes and played some music by Velette. Her favorite singer, the Voxe. This normally cheered her up. But tonight, right now, every song seemed to be about Susan. She couldn't sleep...but she could do absolutely anything else in theory she wished to right now. She could stream a movie or a video game. She could schmear and snack on a bagel. She could masturbate. She could read her pop-up books, or any other in her library. She could see if anyone was online to chat with, or find a venue to meet some new friends. She could straighten some things around her apartment, or maybe even rearrange furniture. But just now...she had little stamina to do more than listen to Velette and sip her tea.

She wrote fan mail to Velette from time to time. The first she'd written was seven years ago, following a teenage suicide attempt, laying out for her all her deepest feelings and sorrows. She was pleasantly surprised to get an elaborate, heartfelt response from the Voxe some time later. So Patty kept writing her, and buying Velette's CDs. The singer was one of the driving forces that kept Patty going, and helped get her through years to come. Velette's later replies were truncated to one or two sentences, which Patty expected and understood. Velette'd convinced her not to take her own life, and yet, Patty was willing to wager Velette had never had her heart broken so devastatingly. Perhaps it wasn't fair to draw this kind of comparison. But aside from the things Patty had written to tell her, Velette really didn't know her at all. Just how visceral, how delicate, how troubled the girl could be. Patty knew it wouldn't change a thing, but again, out of mere indulgence, she pinched herself as hard as she could.

"...Ow! Shit!" Yep, not a dream. Damn it.

She wished it were possible to die of a broken heart. Or embarrassment. Or...anything easy. She was serious. She honestly did not wish to continue this life. She knew she was only 23. She knew there was theoretically an entire future before her in which anything could lie in store. And she knew everyone in whom she confided would reinforce these points to her. But quite frankly, she'd taken far too much to believe disproportionate good fortune lay around the corner. She felt cursed. Her parents and other loved ones would argue the opposite, that she was blessed, with everything she had. But to be absolutely truthful, Patty couldn't help but wonder when she'd lose them. Everything else she valued in life was sooner or later either spoiled or destroyed. When would her remaining relationships be met with the same fate? Or her job? Or her privilege of living in this lovely apartment?

She couldn't bear to find out. She got up, and made herself go into the bathroom. Her breaths hastened and intensified on the way. She knelt beside the sink and opened the cupboard beneath. Buried way back behind everything else was what she was looking for.

Her first and only attempt was in 2007, via this same method. She was undergoing abdominal pains at the time, which convinced her it failed. But right now, her tummy was fine. Well, doing backflips, but otherwise fine. She rummaged until she found them.

There they were. Still wearing her birthday dress, Patty burst back into tears at the sight of them. She knew this was a natural reaction. It was a collection of leftover pills and medications she'd taken all throughout her teens. At 15, she'd downed an abnormally, lethally high amount at once. But her upset stomach was very unhappy with this and pushed them back up and out.

She still couldn't stop crying, this time for the thought of how her loved ones would react when they found her. This would've broken her heart too, but...it was already smashed beyond repair. Her soaked eyes took in only a fuzzy rendering of what she was doing, but her mind was completely clear. She popped open each small bottle and made herself an assortment. She went through motivations as she did this with quivering hands and lips. One was angry retribution: that all the people who'd hurt her in her life would—or should—be taught a lesson. She'd show them. When they found out about this, they'd think twice about hurting someone's feelings again. Even Susan. She hated facing that inclusion. But yes...even Susan.

The other part of her mind was apathetic to this aspect. Who cares about "showing" everybody, it thought. This was to be done on principle. Because life, love, everything...just hurt too much to carry on. She sniffled back tears as she recapped the final bottle and placed them back under the sink. She knew exactly what anyone who was here with her right now would've said. She knew exactly what a therapist, a doctor, a hotline specialist would say. What her parents, her other friends, birthday guests, her bestie Jeanine, even what Susan would've told her. It was all fundamental input, nothing she didn't already know in her teens, and hadn't repeated to herself a billion times. She could hardly stand the thought of hurting them all this way. But she had to ignore it. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was callous, cold, even heartless, but the fact remained, after all this time...

...It just hurt too much. There was no going back.

She plucked two paper Dixie cups from the dispenser and tapped some water into one, depositing the pills in the other. Several parts of her body trembled. Sweat ran her brow. Her lips felt cold.

Do it, she told herself. Just do it.

Oh god... she thought. I'm...I just...I just don't know if—

DO IT.

...Okay.

She brought the pill cup to her lips, opened, and took them in. This now empty cup dropped to the sink with a plat and rolled to a slow halt. Next came the water. She rinsed them down, and swallowed.

Onto the porcelain surface plopped the other cup as well, as Patty Dimberg reclined back against the bathroom wall. She didn't have the energy or inclination to write a note, so she whispered a small farewell, and let it float out into the atmosphere.

"I'm sorry, Mommy..." she tearfully murmured. "I'm sorry, Daddy...I'm sorry, Jeanine...I'm sorry, Susan...I'm sorry, Velette...I'm so sorry...I didn't wanna let you down. I tried. I really really did. But I just can't take it anymore. It hurts too much.

"...Goodbye."

*****

Mercy Unkilling

Saturday, April 4th, 2015, 4:36 a.m.

A brief while after swallowing the pills, Patty fell asleep against the wall. A few hours later, she was awakened by a disturbance in the force. Only half-conscious and very dizzy, but aware of her surroundings, she scrambled forth, and lunged for the toilet.

She choked, coughed, hacked for breath, and hung her head over the bowl. Sweat immediately materialized. She knew what was happening, but couldn't cognizantly process it. Only that it was imminent...by that terrifying panic instinct.

Here it came. Sure enough, she felt her belly lurch. Up and out they launched, almost as if in slow-motion, bringing with them that awful stomach bile taste. Patty gagged, spat and chugged it all out, moaning in discomfort and disgust. Somewhere in the whole horrific process, she fully woke up. But she couldn't concentrate on a thing until it was over.

God... As if she hadn't been through enough tonight. She felt so drained and weak, she couldn't even cry anymore. But...the pills were out. As she reexamined it, she couldn't understand. She was in no tummy trouble this dreary twilight, things were physically normal, and yet...her system had rejected them. Again. Evidently something in her body refused to let this happen—as an adult as well as an adolescent. Patty could hardly believe it. With what should've been no interference whatsoever, she'd nonetheless been met with the same exact result she got seven years ago. She sulked, letting her head rest on the side of the toilet bowl.

Oh, for fuck's sake... she thought defeatedly. I'm such a loser! I can't even kill myself right!

"Why-y-y-y-y-y..." she dryly wept, her lacrimal ducts drained of moisture. "WHY??! Come on! Gimme a break!"

It was just so frustrating. This was the only form of suicide she thought she could handle. What did she have to do?? Slash her wrists? Stick her head in the oven? Load a gun and pull the trigger? She pounded a fist on the toilet lid.

"Hel-LOOOOO!!" she screamed out loud at no one. "I still don't wanna live!... ...Little help??"

No answer, sign or omen presented itself. Not that Patty expected it to. She sighed through vibing lips, slowly pushing to her feet.

GREEEEEEaaaaaat...looks like I have to go on being miserable.

Well...in the meantime...one thing her parents always said when she was little was to brush her teeth whenever she threw up. The stomach acid not only tasted repulsive, it was bad for her oral health. More sighs ensued as she wet the bristles, squeezed out some paste and brushed. She guessed she could feel better by doing something good for herself...even if it followed what was arguably the worst possible thing to do to herself. While slathering her teeth and gums in minty froth, she took a peek in the mirror.

Ugh...I look like hell on a stick.

She was very pale and clammy. Which made sense, given that she'd just...well... She'd look—and maybe feel—better when she let her system settle, then ate something sensible. And of course, got some actual sleep. She realized she'd not slept in bed since the morning before. She still wasn't keen putting herself to sleep in that bed, into which she'd led Susan and made romantic moves on her. But the bed was far roomier and comfier than the living room couch (despite Susan crashing on the latter). And while Patty could doze upon either, the bed offered luxuries such as stretching and spreading limbs across a spongy mattress.