Holding her felt suffocating for the first time. I held tight for dear life for reasons that she didn’t understand nor would I tell her. “Do you want to talk about it” She said or I’m here for anything if you need anyone to talk to”. This felt like a burden that wasn’t mine to hand off. A safe haven that shouldn’t be tarnished. Why should I add gasoline relationship that isn’t on fire.
Our first date was only a week before. We had met through a series of swipes (yes on tinder) and over the course of a few weeks decided to meet up. That Sunday was the day, we went to the movies, I arrived early in my best pair of jeans and my dirty white vans. Trying…. but not too hard. We both arrived punctually, with a few minutes to spare, we drove aimlessly around the parking lot until the previews of the movie were about to come on. Her soft spoken nature took me. Someone as mild mannered and easy to talk to as this was rare. Someone I could pour into. Sadly while watching a movie in a public theatre it is not courteous to “pour into” someone. There wasn’t anything for me to say to her within those first 2 hours of face to face interaction. But we sealed the date…with a hug and called it a night. I thanked her for a wonderful evening and rolled my windows down all the way to my apartment near the university.
The next day still reeling from the evening before, I went about my mundane tasks of summer school and binging Netflix. I received a call at 7. A call that would come to haunt me.
“This is the Sedona Sheriffs department, calling for Mr. Gibson” The structured voice sent shivers through my neck,
I hadn’t recently been to Sedona so to say that the call was out of the ordinary would be a gross miscalculation.
“Ummm Yes” I responded hesitantly. “This is him”
“Do you know…. “ the name instantly made my heart sink
“Yes, that is my roommate” I confirmed
The next series of sentences was a mess of trying to wrap my head around what happened and to who. My mind was a frenzy, I asked questions to reaffirm what he said. The words rattled around in my head, leaving punctures with every bounce.
“I don’t understand, is he okay where is he?”
A shot in the dark, would be a cruel ironic choice of words.
“He’s dead”
These are the last words I heard before my eyes welled up with what felt like the last moisture left in my body. After a series of questions from the officers that “no I dont know of anyone that would want to hurt him” and “no he doesn’t use any drugs” and “no I don’t know where he could’ve obtained a firearm” I hung up.
Aimless walking around, I couldn’t be alone in apartment where he lived, where his bed was 10 ft away from mine. An erie feeling set over the place and I left and didn’t turn around. I suddenly faced a reality that would come to define everything.
To go on a date the night before and have a friend commit suicide within a two day span felt like I was trapped.
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