Lj Idol Prompt Week 2: Three Little Words
I’m one of those people for whom words come naturally and words are where I seek solace when things are tough for me. I’ve kept a diary since I was old enough to write a coherent sentence. I’ve written stories since I first learned how awesome creative writing could be. Words have always been golden to me.
Until one day in 2004. That day, three words...just three little words...brought my world crashing down.
A little back story...well, more than a little but less than a lot. In college, I was one of those students who got up, went to class, ate lunch/dinner, and went right back to my room or, on the odd occasion, went to the library to study. Then I got involved in my college theatre and found the family I’d always wanted. When I wasn’t in class, I was with either my mentor, Rupert, and his wife at their house or hanging out with the rest of the theatre gang. We spent more time together some weeks than apart and I felt like I belonged for the first time in my life.
Some of us were closer than others. Kat and I spent time together during the summer before my senior year. I spent almost as much time with Rupert and Amanda, his wife, than I did with my dad during the summers as well. Ru was my mentor and like another father to me. Amanda was like a mom to me, even though we weren’t that far apart in age. Kat and I were sisters but we were so much more than that.
My extended family meant so much to me that, when I dated someone outside of our group, I insisted atleast one of them meet the person I was dating, the more that met my significant other the better. Luckily, they all met, and approved, of the man I chose to settle down with. In fact, they accepted him as one of us.
Fast forward to July, 2004. Rupert and Amanda had separated and were having more problems than any of us could imagine. Rupert, sadly, was the root of the more prevalent of said problems as he wasn’t dealing well with the separation. But when I got the news that Rupert had killed himself, I was completely shocked at how bad things had truly gotten. I stupidly thought the words, “Rupert is dead” were the worst words I could hear. Then, two weeks later, I heard even more unbelievable words.
“Kat’s missing.”
Okay so those are only two words but they felt like someone had punched me in the chest. My first thought was that she’d been kidnapped. There was an investigation. A hot-line was set up for any information about her whereabouts or her abduction. Law enforcement searched everywhere she would’ve possibly gone. Then we found out there was video of her by herself buying sleeping pills at a WalMart not far from where she’d recently moved. I knew it was only a matter of time before I heard three similar words, only the names differing, and I was dreading it.
I was at work when I got the phone call from Amanda and I couldn’t speak. I had friends out of state to call but the words literally stuck in my throat. I couldn’t even think them. It’s like my brain was in denial of the fact. I walked quickly to the bathroom down the hall from my office and sat under the counter, not caring if anyone else was in the bathroom even as the sobs began to wrack my body. I clutched my cell phone in my hands until my knuckles were white and my hands were hurting. I forced my right index finger to scroll through my contacts until I came to Julie’s number. I don’t know why I called Julie first as I passed another friend’s number who was further away and who would need to know sooner in order to secure transportation back to South Carolina for the funeral but Julie’s number was the first one I hit dial on. As the phone rang, I forced the sobs down until I could speak but I still didn’t know if I could actually say the words.
When Julie answered, the tears started to stream down my face again as I said her name, making sure she was who had answered the phone. She went from groggy to instantly awake and asking why I was crying.
I remember taking a deep breath and forcing the words out of my mouth in one quick breath.
“Kat is dead.”
I swallowed a sob as Julie asked me what I’d said.
“Kat is dead.” I forced myself to say the words, feel how strange they felt coming out of my mouth, foreign, like a language I’d never wanted to study and had never heard.
Julie immediately went into denial and I just sat there, crying softly, knowing there was nothing I could do or say that could comfort her because no one could comfort any of us. The reason being that the person who had comforted us through Rupert dying was now gone. I don’t remember how I got off the phone with her but I did and realized I had to call Grace, who was in the Army at the time and stationed out in Washington state. She hadn’t been able to come home for Rupert’s funeral and I was afraid she wouldn’t be able to come home for Kat but I couldn’t not call her. I didn’t even think about the time difference, just that I had to get it over and done with so I wouldn’t have to keep saying those god awful three words that burned my tongue and made my throat feel like it was being cut by razor blades.
Grace answered and she was even groggier than Julie as she informed me it was 5am her time and wanted to know what was so important. I took a deep breath and forced the words out of my mouth again, noticing that they were getting easier to say but harder to believe.
“Kat is dead.”
Grace gasped and the tears that had stopped came cascading down my face again as she asked questions, some I could answer but most I couldn’t. I told her what I could but that felt like cold comfort given her distance. That conversation is more a blur than the one with Julie. I remember telling Grace that I loved her very much and that we’d talk again later and she sounded so sad and so scared but, again, there was nothing I could do.
I called my mom to come pick me up and take me to my other sister Jen’s house. From there Jen, her son, Amanda, and I went back to Amanda’s house to activate our network of friends and acquaintances who’d been placed on standby when Kat went missing. Amanda and Jen made most of the phone calls. The only one I made was to my husband, Jason, to tell him the news and tell him where to come when he was off work. I couldn’t bring myself to say those poisonous words to anyone else that day. One of my exes, and one of our theatre family, showed up and, for some reason, as soon as I saw him, I broke down after sitting emotionlessly on the couch for hours. I kept whispering “Kat is dead” into his shoulder over and over, trying to force myself to believe the words, believe the meaning behind the words, and to force myself to stop watching for her to walk in, the whole thing a gigantic misunderstanding. I knew it wasn’t a misunderstanding. I knew she would never walk through any of our doors ever again.
Those were the hardest days I’ve yet to go through. My entire friend-family watched me like a hawk in case I let myself succumb to the sadness that was threatening to overwhelm me. That’s what had happened to Kat. She couldn’t keep her head above the treacherous waves of grief she felt as losing Rupert, even though there wasn’t anything any of us could’ve done. Still, Kat felt responsible, more so than any of the rest of us. She felt as if she’d let Rupert down my not being there for him the day he’d taken his own life. That was Kat’s downfall...the same thing that had made her the strongest and the protector of our family...her intrinsic nature to watch out and be responsible for all of us, for our family, that same thing led to those horrific words to be constantly repeated that sad day and for days there after.
It’s been over 7 years since Kat died and I still have trouble saying those three poisonous little words. My breath still catches in my throat. Most of all, it feels as if a fist clenches around my heart when I say, “Kat is dead.”
Until one day in 2004. That day, three words...just three little words...brought my world crashing down.
A little back story...well, more than a little but less than a lot. In college, I was one of those students who got up, went to class, ate lunch/dinner, and went right back to my room or, on the odd occasion, went to the library to study. Then I got involved in my college theatre and found the family I’d always wanted. When I wasn’t in class, I was with either my mentor, Rupert, and his wife at their house or hanging out with the rest of the theatre gang. We spent more time together some weeks than apart and I felt like I belonged for the first time in my life.
Some of us were closer than others. Kat and I spent time together during the summer before my senior year. I spent almost as much time with Rupert and Amanda, his wife, than I did with my dad during the summers as well. Ru was my mentor and like another father to me. Amanda was like a mom to me, even though we weren’t that far apart in age. Kat and I were sisters but we were so much more than that.
My extended family meant so much to me that, when I dated someone outside of our group, I insisted atleast one of them meet the person I was dating, the more that met my significant other the better. Luckily, they all met, and approved, of the man I chose to settle down with. In fact, they accepted him as one of us.
Fast forward to July, 2004. Rupert and Amanda had separated and were having more problems than any of us could imagine. Rupert, sadly, was the root of the more prevalent of said problems as he wasn’t dealing well with the separation. But when I got the news that Rupert had killed himself, I was completely shocked at how bad things had truly gotten. I stupidly thought the words, “Rupert is dead” were the worst words I could hear. Then, two weeks later, I heard even more unbelievable words.
“Kat’s missing.”
Okay so those are only two words but they felt like someone had punched me in the chest. My first thought was that she’d been kidnapped. There was an investigation. A hot-line was set up for any information about her whereabouts or her abduction. Law enforcement searched everywhere she would’ve possibly gone. Then we found out there was video of her by herself buying sleeping pills at a WalMart not far from where she’d recently moved. I knew it was only a matter of time before I heard three similar words, only the names differing, and I was dreading it.
I was at work when I got the phone call from Amanda and I couldn’t speak. I had friends out of state to call but the words literally stuck in my throat. I couldn’t even think them. It’s like my brain was in denial of the fact. I walked quickly to the bathroom down the hall from my office and sat under the counter, not caring if anyone else was in the bathroom even as the sobs began to wrack my body. I clutched my cell phone in my hands until my knuckles were white and my hands were hurting. I forced my right index finger to scroll through my contacts until I came to Julie’s number. I don’t know why I called Julie first as I passed another friend’s number who was further away and who would need to know sooner in order to secure transportation back to South Carolina for the funeral but Julie’s number was the first one I hit dial on. As the phone rang, I forced the sobs down until I could speak but I still didn’t know if I could actually say the words.
When Julie answered, the tears started to stream down my face again as I said her name, making sure she was who had answered the phone. She went from groggy to instantly awake and asking why I was crying.
I remember taking a deep breath and forcing the words out of my mouth in one quick breath.
“Kat is dead.”
I swallowed a sob as Julie asked me what I’d said.
“Kat is dead.” I forced myself to say the words, feel how strange they felt coming out of my mouth, foreign, like a language I’d never wanted to study and had never heard.
Julie immediately went into denial and I just sat there, crying softly, knowing there was nothing I could do or say that could comfort her because no one could comfort any of us. The reason being that the person who had comforted us through Rupert dying was now gone. I don’t remember how I got off the phone with her but I did and realized I had to call Grace, who was in the Army at the time and stationed out in Washington state. She hadn’t been able to come home for Rupert’s funeral and I was afraid she wouldn’t be able to come home for Kat but I couldn’t not call her. I didn’t even think about the time difference, just that I had to get it over and done with so I wouldn’t have to keep saying those god awful three words that burned my tongue and made my throat feel like it was being cut by razor blades.
Grace answered and she was even groggier than Julie as she informed me it was 5am her time and wanted to know what was so important. I took a deep breath and forced the words out of my mouth again, noticing that they were getting easier to say but harder to believe.
“Kat is dead.”
Grace gasped and the tears that had stopped came cascading down my face again as she asked questions, some I could answer but most I couldn’t. I told her what I could but that felt like cold comfort given her distance. That conversation is more a blur than the one with Julie. I remember telling Grace that I loved her very much and that we’d talk again later and she sounded so sad and so scared but, again, there was nothing I could do.
I called my mom to come pick me up and take me to my other sister Jen’s house. From there Jen, her son, Amanda, and I went back to Amanda’s house to activate our network of friends and acquaintances who’d been placed on standby when Kat went missing. Amanda and Jen made most of the phone calls. The only one I made was to my husband, Jason, to tell him the news and tell him where to come when he was off work. I couldn’t bring myself to say those poisonous words to anyone else that day. One of my exes, and one of our theatre family, showed up and, for some reason, as soon as I saw him, I broke down after sitting emotionlessly on the couch for hours. I kept whispering “Kat is dead” into his shoulder over and over, trying to force myself to believe the words, believe the meaning behind the words, and to force myself to stop watching for her to walk in, the whole thing a gigantic misunderstanding. I knew it wasn’t a misunderstanding. I knew she would never walk through any of our doors ever again.
Those were the hardest days I’ve yet to go through. My entire friend-family watched me like a hawk in case I let myself succumb to the sadness that was threatening to overwhelm me. That’s what had happened to Kat. She couldn’t keep her head above the treacherous waves of grief she felt as losing Rupert, even though there wasn’t anything any of us could’ve done. Still, Kat felt responsible, more so than any of the rest of us. She felt as if she’d let Rupert down my not being there for him the day he’d taken his own life. That was Kat’s downfall...the same thing that had made her the strongest and the protector of our family...her intrinsic nature to watch out and be responsible for all of us, for our family, that same thing led to those horrific words to be constantly repeated that sad day and for days there after.
It’s been over 7 years since Kat died and I still have trouble saying those three poisonous little words. My breath still catches in my throat. Most of all, it feels as if a fist clenches around my heart when I say, “Kat is dead.”