She ran the bath and took her time to find the right temperature of the water. Added the
bubbles and even though it was morning she lit a candle. A London winters day. Still. Grey. Just above freezing. The bathroom steamed up in minutes. She sank into the tub. Water up to her chin.
After a few minutes of floating in the warmth she picked up the razorblade she had placed
on the side of the tub and sliced into her left arm with a strong deep stroke. Bright pink
water in seconds. She closed her eyes knowing it was done.
She looked like her Mum with the same dark hair and large deep brown eyes, which were
almost black. You don’t need to know her name but we’ll call her “Dee’’. We were a large
group of partying people. About sixteen of us. Into the music, the clothes, the scene. Into
life in London. Full on. Dee’s boyfriend, David, was a cross between Cat Stevens and
Adam Ant. He always walked around with his guitar which he played poorly. His singing
was even worse. Dee loved him. He was ‘The One’ and she let everyone know how much
she loved him.
Her mum was her best friend and she was extremely chuffed whenever the comment,
“You two look like sisters” was heard. Dee was a gorgeous person with an angelic
calmness. She was beguiling and I never saw her other than happy.
Dee knocked on my door one morning all alone. Wanted a cuppa and a chat. (I had a
girlfriend and we were all friends. Dee was a favourite of ours.) She acted strangely but
sat and talked for over an hour. Vague and distracted.
“What is it? What’s wrong with her?” I kept asking myself. Two days later she called in for
another chat. “Dee, tell me what’s bothering you.” She was listless. Lost. “Can’t be that
bad,” I joked. But it was worse than that. David had been sleeping with her mother for
over two months. Three days later Dee was dead in the bath.
“Vee” lived with her parents in Canberra and had a casual relationship with Adam. He was
one of my mates. She was twenty and in our staid capital city she was very alternative.
Dressed in pre-loved clothes. Loved berets and perky hats. Worked in the hospital as a
nurse. Vee had the gift of making people like her, just like a cat can make you scratch an
ear.Adam also worked in the hospital. Their love seemedsporadic but comfortable. Hot for a few weeks then not even seeing one another for the next month. Then hot again.
Quite often Vee would ask me to join her at a wine bar and occasionally we drove to Thredbo to ski for the day. She loved Adam and I was a friend when she needed company
or wanted a chat about the complexities of relationships
When Adam left Australia for an extended holiday in the USA, Vee appeared to lose her
fizz, didn’t laugh as much and was remote. “I’m good. I’m good”, was all she’d say when I
asked. Vee drank half a bottle of rum and then added a full bottle of sleeping tablets in
her room one night. Didn’t leave a message. Hooked up on life support, she was brain
dead, but they wouldn’t let her go.
Two weeks later Adam arrived back, unexpectedly early. He hadn’t been told but sat by
her bed holding her hand all night. In the morning her family asked for the support to be
turned off.
“Gee” was one of the good blokes on the Gold Coast. Really steady. No stuff ups for this
guy. When he reached thirty he was well on his way to being one of the rich and famous.
Married, with two boys seven and five, his own house. He also had his own construction
company. Each year the turnover increased and the projects got bigger. We became
accustomed to seeing his company logos and vehicles all around the coast. I only knew
him through work and only had a beer with him three times. Gee wasn’t one to waste time!
My car radio was playing when I heard the announcer describing it as “a well known
builder has been hit by a semi-trailer on the Pacific Highway and has died at the scene.”
At the coroner’s inquest Gee was found to have parked in the breakdown lane. He sat
there for at least thirty minutes, then calmly walked into the lane of the semi doing 110kph.
His company had severe trading problems and he faced bankruptcy. Instead of talking, he
walked.
I visited our local library last week. Near the doors there was a man sitting alone. He was crying. People walked around him. Looked away.”Are you ok, mate?” Yeah, yeah, thanks”. He didn’t look up. He had gone when I came out with my books ten minutes later.
For days I asked myself, “Should I have done more?”
Life is unexpectedly brutal and you often never learn
what some people are going through.
Just a month ago I helped a mate move out of his unit. He had been sharing it with his
girlfriend and her son. As we moved the cartons to his car his girlfriend came home. There
was a fiery exchange. Dark faces. Venom. She left looking distressed and mad with anger.
We finished the packing and drove to his temporary home. There had been some real
aggression from this mate in the past and he’d physically hurt at least two girlfriends. The
next afternoon I rang her to check. Left a message. No response. Three weeks later I rang
again. Left a message. No response.
Is she alive? Should I go to the unit? I didn’t but he was on my doorstep two days later.
Accused me of trying to hit on his girlfriend. Questioned my “motives”. So now we are no
longer friends after twenty plus years. Better this way than to lose another to that “dark
place”, to that “black dog”.
Concern and caring for others is the best way to have people care for you. Friends and
social networks are critical for your well-being. Don’t let your friends become “lost friends”.
Life is not a rehearsal. Each of us is only allowed one attempt. An unknown sage got it
right when he said, “Without love we perish”.
John A Wilson, August 2013
(Dedicated to Nicole Marsden who had had it tougher than most)
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