Suicide, Maybe? 2/15
I finally manage to get myself out of the house with a travel mug of coffee in hand and my messenger bag slung across my chest.
I know I look like the dead today with my new makeup applied on top of yesterday’s, sort of like a cheap whore, plus a baggy black jacket over a plain tight black tanktop, a pair of skinny dark wash jeans and a pair of black and white converses. I think the only pieces of jewelry I have on is a crucifix on a silver chain, my usual wrist cuffs, and two rings on each hand.
Normally I take a couple hours to get ready and look perfect, but today I just don’t feel like it. I have a quiz due today plus I should stop by and see Professor Nixon. I’m still not sure why he wants to see me but I guess I should go and see instead of waiting.
‘He said his office hours start at 2:15,’ I muse to myself as I walk out of my last class of the day, looking down at the watch made into my wrist cuff. ‘So I have about 45 minutes until his door is open. Just enough time to go get a cup of coffee and a muffin.’
I walk down the stairs with my messenger bag against my hip, my laptop making a loud thwap as I go. Not making eye contact with anyone, my mind is on what I want to order and how long I can take before needing to head over to the other side of campus. It will take at least 30 minutes to get to his office building from where I'm at now, this campus is huge and requires a lot of walking just to get from one building to another and it is really green with trees, bushes, and flowers put everywhere they can find room among the towering buildings and walk paths.
The student union area is busy at this time, unfortunately. The line is long, but I know I’m going to need the caffeine in my system at least before going to Professor Nixon. I am a little nervous more than anything about this meeting; it is the unknown that bothers me more than anything.
“Bill!” a girl squeals before putting her arms around me in a quick hug, all smiles and giggles.
“Hey, Jasmine” I reply slowly, still not sure why she came up to me. She doesn’t even talk to me in class or around campus. She must want something.
“Well, you see, the thing is…have you done the paper yet for Professor Grat?” Jasmine asks finally, after stumbling over her words with a quiver of her lower lip to add emphasis on her distress probably.
“Um…yea, mostly” I respond still slowly, inching further ahead in line with now only three people ahead of me. I wish she would hurry up and move on, her voice is grating and annoying.
“Could you help me? I haven’t started yet and it’s due tomorrow ya know.” She finally gets out with a pleading look and some bouncing coming from her ample chest. I have no desire for what she is offering me nor could she ever be able to offer what I want. I learned a long time ago that I prefer the more masculine, tough bodies of men to the cushy, soft bodies offered by girls.
“Why yes I do know it is due tomorrow Jasmine and no I can’t help you. I have to finish my own paper and I need to work tonight.” I tell her with sarcasm dripping over my words; it probably is going right over her head as she just nods in understanding with a pout on her lips.
“Oh, alright, it was worth it to ask. I know you are really smart and seem to understand things in there. Well maybe another time, could I get your phone number?” She says and looks up with a hopeful look on her face as she chews on her lower lip in anticipation.
“Thanks but no, I don’t give my number out.” I simply tell her with a nod, hoping she understands that as a dismissal before finally turning around and placing my coffee order with a danish. I can’t help but love the amount of sugar they place in them, like heaven with cheese.
“Oh, okay.” Jasmine replies behind me before I hear her clacking heeled shoes walk away from behind me.
‘Finally!’ I mentally exclaim to myself as I pick up my simple order before walking out of the Student Union Center down the paved path towards the Faculty building. I want to enjoy this walk during a nice breezy day.
The building comes into view, it looks pretty plain and normal in comparison to some of the others. Only a large oak tree and some flowering bushes dot the surrounding areas along with a full bicycle rack.
‘What room is he in?’ I think to myself as I walk in, the doors clanging shut behind me. A large board is in front of me with all of the Professors listed along with where their offices are located.
‘Professor Nixon…Damn! He is up on the third floor in room 345. He is up and way over at the other end of the building. I can tell already today is going downhill and fast. It’s a shame. The day had started out decently.’ I mutter to myself as I readjust my messenger bag before going over to the stairs. This building is one of the oldest. There isn’t even an elevator. Plenty of the Professors and students have complained but the department buildings and parking lots are more important. Damn corrupt school.
Finally making it up the mountain worth of stairs, my lack of exercise and love of smoking is showing as I’m wheezing for breath. I have never been a fan of actively sweating and I love the automatic orgasm I can receive from that first puff of a cigarette. I readjust my bag yet again along with my rings, I’m nervous and I know it but I need to get some of this energy out before I jitter myself out of my own skin. The air here smells musty and old, not to mention it’s muggy like the air conditioner doesn’t work which in all likelihood it probably doesn’t.
Professor Nixon’s room is one of the very last ones located on the third floor, his door is open and I can hear a small desk fan rotating around in the room. ‘Damn! I can’t run away now. I’m here.’ I tell myself as I walk into the room where Professor Nixon is seating hunched over his little laptop typing away and moving some papers around.
“Is now a bad time?” I ask quietly, wondering if his back is hurting him yet with that hunching over or if it will come later.
“Hmm?” He asks absentmindedly while looking up from his work to look right at me, his brows coming down in puzzlement.
“I’m Bill Kaulitz you…” before I could even finish my sentence he exclaims, “Ahh yes! Mr. Kaulitz!” He says as he motions for me to sit down in front of him while he puts away his work before turning his entire attention back onto me.
“I have been informed by Mr. Jost that you will be meeting with an onsite counselor three days a week. This information was passed along to me since I have been assigned to be your advisor for the time being.” Professor Nixon tells me seriously, his hands clasped on top of the messy desk.
“Excuse me?!” I exclaim in complete disbelief. I haven’t seen any type of counselor since I was 18, about two years ago, and I have had no desire to see one now.
“This is out of my hands. I am just passing along the message.” He tells me after a few moments of silence passes between us with I’m sure my face doing a wonderful imitation of a fish.
“Here is the paperwork for you. Most of it has already been filled out by the person who made the appointment. You are to attend your first appointment today at 4:30 in the Facilities Management building.” He continues once he realizes I’m not going to say anything. He pushes a manila folder my way as he rattles on.
‘Facilities Management….that is the building all the way in a corner of the campus, where nobody can hear you scream. It has its own parking lot, that is just how isolated the building is from the rest of campus.
“But…I…Wha?” I finally spit out as I start flipping through the paper work, just glancing through most of it I can tell who has set this up. I will be changing my phone number and all of my information to where she has no input in my life any longer. This is too much! I am a legal adult; I don’t need anyone helping me!
“Go to the meeting Bill. It could do you some good.” Professor Nixon says simply with a sad look on his face and this look of pity just seems to be pouring out of his eyes. ‘Damn! He knows my past. It’s so obvious.'
“Sure,” I reply simply after I finally let everything sink in and just shove the folder into my messenger bag before getting up from the chair, “Thanks Professor Nixon. See ya around.” I mutter with a small wave over my shoulder going to the open door, “Wait, Mr. Kaulitz.” Professor Nixon says, stopping me in my tracks but I refuse to turn around so he can see how vulnerable I am at the moment.
“I’m sure this is hard for you, but do know we are here to help you. I want you to come to my office twice a week, if nothing else you can just sit across from me and stare at me with annoyance.” He tells me calmly as he continues to watch me; I can feel his eyes drilling into me.
I just nod my head in understanding, afraid to open my mouth for what might come out. I continue to walk out and this time he doesn’t stop me. I hurriedly make my way out down the mountain of stairs and out of the now oppressive building.
‘Why does she have to butt in now? Don’t the weekly, now almost daily phone calls mean anything? She is butting into my life and trying to dictate what I do and who I interact with!’ I rant to myself as I start the long trek back to my car. I am not walking all the way over there! There are too many local horror stories centered on that area for anyone to willingly walk there alone.
The walk to my car and the drive over to the building just gave me time to get even more annoyed and angry. This is my life and I do what I see fit, not anyone else anymore. That is in my past.
I walk into the building, it seems pretty deserted and go over to the directional map posted up on the cork board. The one good thing about this campus is that it is so large that there is a very detailed map at the entrance of every building. Apparently by what the map is telling me, the counseling area is located on the side of the building; it has its own entrance. I just roll my eyes at this and follow the directions to a wooden door with frosted glass and little golden letters stenciled to spell ‘Counseling’. ‘Well aren’t we full of ourselves.’ I can’t help but think as I open the door; it swings open to reveal an empty waiting room with a middle-age woman in the receptionist area looking down at something.
I clear my throat as I walk over to her. She jumps slightly as she looks to me with a forced smile on her lips.
“Yes, how can I help you today?” She asks in that professional politeness that we all know isn’t meant.
“Yea, I was told I have an appointment with a Mr. Jost. I’m Bill Kaulitz.” I add my name as a last minute thought in case he is busy and has a lot of different appointments.
“Ahh, yes! Mr. Kaulitz.” She replies with a downturn of her lips as she moves some stuff around before getting up and just walking out without anything else said. ‘Well, they certainly know me.’ I think morosely with how familiar she seems to be with my name.
I look around the waiting area, trying to see if I can figure anything out this far. The walls are a pale yellow, probably to seem cheery but all it reminds me of is pee. A few laminated posters are put up around the walls and they all have positive messages. I have probably seen these very same posters a million times. I notice a few green plants scattered about, probably to make the room even more cheery and alive. I personally wouldn’t even know how to keep a plant alive let alone tolerate living with one.
Before I can contemplate the various magazines lying around, a deep voice interrupts me.
“Ah yes! Mr. Kaulitz so glad you could join us today!” He exclaims with a voice that tells me this man loves to drink and smoke. When I look up, the man’s appearance certainly catches me off guard. I am expecting someone very conservatively dressed not wearing tattered jeans with very noticeable holes, a black band tee, a scruffy beard and flip flops. It has become too cold to be able to wear flip flops!
“Uh…um…hello” I finally spit out knowing that I sound like someone mentally disturbed. I rub at the back of my neck before fixing a few black dreads that I had just nudged to tickle at my ear.
“Well come on back.” He beckons at me with a wave before turning around and leading me down the equally yellow hallway, into a room with a bare table and two chairs, nothing else in the room but two posters. One was the one that shows faces with different emotions, I have probably memorized every single one by now and then the other one has a person standing on top of a snow topped mountain with the words ‘ACHIEVEMENT’ underneath and then ‘"It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed."- Theodore Roosevelt’ put under that. That one has always annoyed me.
“Wait here a moment Mr. Kaulitz, I will be right back!” He tells me with enthusiasm as he hurries out. I just roll my eyes before sitting down, my messenger bag still slung across my chest. It’s more convenient if I need to make a quick get away.
I continue to stare at the multi-face poster off to the side of me, waiting on the counselor to get back. He must be more of a new age kind of guy, not so much into the traditional practice of psychology. All the doctors I’ve ever been to have always been the up tight kind. It never bothered me as I never talked to most of them, except for Mr. Davis. He is the only doctor I have ever opened up to and of course I got thrown out as soon as I turned 18 due to the fact that I am now considered an adult. Apparently Mr. Davis only has a license to practice on juveniles.
Finally I hear someone walk into the room. I look over to see the man from earlier along with a young man behind him. He looks close to my age, maybe older, but he has black corn rolls in his hair and wearing all baggy clothes. He certainly looks out of place around here as well but maybe that is acceptable for this place.
“Mr. Kaulitz this is Tom Trumper. He is my aide and will be assisting me. I’ll leave you two alone to talk.” The man says with a smile before leaving down the pale yellow hallway once again.
‘Oookay….’ I think to myself astonished at what has just happened. I’ve been ditched!
“God damn him!” Tom exclaims in front of me before rolling his eyes and sitting down in the only other available seat. He places a folder on top of the table. ‘I wonder if that was hidden under his clothes. I didn’t see him walk in with it.’
“Hello Bill. I’m sorry for Mr. Jost. He is a little….unconventional.” He starts off as he opens the file and skims through it.
“When was the last time you went to see anyone?” Tom starts off and I can hear the air quotes around ‘anyone’ so I knew he meant a professional.
I just shrug my shoulders and think, ‘Do I really want to open up to this person? Someone who couldn’t even understand me let alone any of the things I went through. With Mr. Davis at least I could trust him. He always had that air of being easy going and I always fell right in it. This Tom Trumper reminds me more of a skittish kitten. ‘
“18” I finally give in, wanting to see where he will take this. I always found great amusement when I was younger to give them just enough to where they would start pulling out their hair in frustration.
“Alright, so no one since you became an adult. Understandable.” Tom mutters and nods as he continues to skim down the paperwork before him. I would really like to know what is exactly in that and how much he actually knows. This whole being lead around is not something I do at all and I know I will need to put a stop to it soon.
“Okay…is their anything specific you want to talk about?” He finally says after some silence ensues and not even a ticking clock to break it. I just look at him with a raised eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really? You think that is all it takes?’
“Apparently not” He then mutters to himself before rubbing a hand over his corn rolls and looking back up at me. It is interesting to note that he hasn’t once made any comments or facial expression towards the way I look. Even my professors now give me looks when I walk in wearing something outrageous. I usually get a laugh out of it but with Tom, nothing!
“Look Bill, I can tell you don’t want to be here. But you were brought to us directly from the campus President. A….” he stops to look down at the folder for a moment, “A Ms. Ann Shurpine made it a very big….deal I suppose for you to be seen by Mr. Jost.”
I just nod my head taking it all in, ‘I knew it was her that did this! She is the only one with most of my information not to mention this just seems like something she would do. Always the ‘do it and then ask questions’ kind of person; really annoying.’
“Thought so,” I tell Tom with a nod of my head as I unconsciously start twirling one of my rings around before I tip my head to the side in thought, "Wait a minute. You side I was supposed to seen by Mr. Jost….you are not Mr. Jost.” I say with a critical look, waiting on his response.
“Ah, yes you caught that.” He replies sheepishly as he looks down at the counter and rubs the back of his head, tangling the braids coming from his corn rolls. I just continue to look at him, waiting to see what he is going to do as I place my hands in my lap.
“Well you see, Mr. Jost was the man you met earlier.” He starts which causes my eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. "Mr. Jost was that hobo that I met with the ripped jeans and flip flops!"
‘Yea and I’m his…assistant. I basically do everything.” He adds with a sheepish shrug. I just nod my head. This is why I work by myself, not having a boss to answer to and tell me what to do.
“So anyways, back on topic of you. Would you tell me what your major is?” He asks clearly interested for some reason and I am almost positive that should be in his file of me.
I just look at him for a moment, my eyebrow raised and he continues to look at me with this expectant look. I roll my eyes before answering, “Computer Technical Analysis and I’m looking at maybe doing a minor in Engineering but that depends on how well I do this semester.” I tell him calmly with a shrug of my shoulders. Every time I tell people what I major in, I always get this dumb founded look like they don’t believe someone like me could be smart, I just put on a really damn good mask.
“Wow!” He breathes out in astonishment, “I know that all of the computer programs are hard as hell to get in let alone stay in. What is it you want to do?” He asks as he puts himself more across the table towards me instead of hiding behind the damn folder like earlier. This does surprise me, no one has ever been actually interested in me but I do know that he is faking it and it’s a really damn good fake but a fake none the less. I can’t allow myself be dragged into this. I can’t allow myself to get hurt anymore.
I look down at my watch and see at least 30 minutes have passed, “How long are these sessions?” I ask Tom knowing some do 30 minutes but others have staggered them out to be an hour. I wasn’t sure how Mr. Jost had his scheduled out.
“Oh, um…you are down for three 30 minute sessions a week.” Tom replies after some paper flipping. I just nod and stand up from my chair before walking right past an astonished Tom and out of this accursed building. I vow to myself right now, I would never go back. It is pointless to relive old wounds over and over again especially when no one could help.
I hear someone calling my name but I just wave a hand behind my back at them and keep going to my car.
I let myself into my apartment, ignoring that damn jumping dog that as usual gets let out just as I get home. Today I really just don’t feel like looking or talking to anyone. Maybe I’ll be able to finish working on two of my clients tonight since I don’t have anything I need to study for right now.
I walk down the hallway, put my messenger bag in its usual spot on the couch and go into the kitchen. The rapid blinking light of the answer machine catches my attention but I put it off for the revitalizing effects of coffee. Coffee can make any bad day automatically turn good…I hope it holds true today!
I click the on button for the drip to start and right as usual Kashmir darts in and starts running around my legs before meowing up at me. I can’t help but smile at her, all she wants is food and attention; such an easy existence.
I pull out a can of her vile food and plop it in her food bowl before returning to the coffee pot. My mug from yesterday is still dirty so I pull down a different one, I just don’t feel like cleaning anything. I want to just sit down in front of my computer screens and lose myself in data.
I pour myself a large mug full and carry it out, Kashmir still in the kitchen eating her food. I stop by the machine and roll my eyes before pushing the play button.
‘Have two new messages’ **Beep** ‘First new message left at 1:45 pm’ **Beep** ‘Hello Bill. I’m sure you are not too happy with me at the moment but I am just only trying to help. Please keep that in mind. Call me please; I really would love to hear from you.’ **Beep**
Before the machine can switch to the next message, I delete it. I have no desire to talk to her in fact I am planning on changing my number.
‘First message erased’ **Beep** ‘Second new message left at 3:15 pm.’ **Beep** ‘Bill! Why haven’t you called back? Me and mom are really worried about you now especially because Ms. Ann hasn’t heard from you either. If you don’t call me back by tonight then I will be coming up there to see you for myself. Just watch and see that I don’t!’ Georg finishes saying right as the machine cuts him off, I can’t help but laugh as I delete the message. He has threatened before; he won’t leave his home or job to come see me. Georg has that apple pie life so many of us dream of and that was lost to me when I was seven.
With a roll of my eyes at the machine, I walk back down the hallway and to the locked door of my work room. Digging the key out of my pocket and use it to unlock the door. The cool air blasts me instantly as I close the door behind me. I stumble my way down the cleared pathway to my leather chair, putting the coffee mug in its usual spot before typing a few things on the keyboards causing all the screens to light up. This is the favorite part of my day, coming home and working on with my computers. I don’t have to worry about anyone looking at me and trying to talk me or living up to what people want.
TBC......
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I'm working on editing Chapter 3 right now, it's a huge piece so it's taking me some time on it.
I hope y'all leave feedback and let me know what you think.
Chapter 3