Her skill at warming a room to a more receptive level had fallen away years earlier; however, necessity dictated that, over the next hour or so, she at least try to reconnect with her more sociable self. Alienating them at this point by resurrecting old wounds wouldn’t serve her purpose and Kat’s guard was already raised to cover both herself and Toni. Lucky Toni, she thought.
Before Toni had a chance to respond, Kat replied with a tone so flat that it lacked dimension, “Perhaps we can dispense with any further niceties.” Kat’s curiosity about Monica’s intentions for the evening could no longer be put on hold.
“Okay, ladies; your home, your rules.” So she dove in, head first.
“When we’re young, we yearn for the reciprocity of unconditional love that we so freely give to our parents. Some of us are lucky in that regard and have that need met but others, well, not so much. If you’ve never had to suffer through that brand of rejection and humiliation, then you can live a life relatively free from feelings of deep-seated dislocation but otherwise, you’ll constantly be working to keep yourself from succumbing to feelings of bitterness and a depth of isolation so profound that nothing can extricate you from the cycle of shit – from tumbling mercilessly into that void.
“The intentions behind every act of kindness or offer of love become suspect. In an act of self-preservation, you second-guess everyone’s motivations to such an extent that you eventually stop believing everyone you know and survive by instinct alone, filtering everything through the type of instinct borne of that pervasive, evolving bitterness.” Monica paused long enough to make certain she hadn’t lost her audience.
“In our younger days, our personality defects can be hidden relatively well, coming across to our friends, colleagues and lovers as mere quirks of character but then as we settle in to life, those quirks unravel into an unseemly mess of confusion and emptiness.
“We can try to maintain our facades without assistance but when we’re no longer able to successfully fool ourselves, we have no recourse but to start shoveling in all manner of evasions, drugs having the most efficacious impact, in a vain attempt either to tamp-down our anguish over having had a rather unpleasant childhood, to convince ourselves that it’s really not so bad and that we’re not really not so angry and alone, but rather that we’re just little works-in-progress awaiting our turn in the queue to acquire the skills necessary to become fully formed, contented human beings. But, the positive end-game never seems to transpire and those cute little quirks that we so recklessly spewed at friends and foes alike have transformed into full-blown psychoses that overthrow and dominate ones character.
“As we wait to be graced by some type of brilliant form of enlightenment that will lick us back to life, we soldier on by filling ourselves with every variety of empty calorie imaginable: sex, drugs, expressing anger at the establishment, falling into periods of bleak creativity, engaging in the pseudo-intellectualism of the cause-du-jour, anything to prevent us from being forced to face ourselves.
“Angry adolescent rebellion transcends into uninspired young adulthood drivel which then finds us diving neatly into an early middle-aged fear that not one drop of improvement has been or ever will be made, that indeed the depths to which one has sunk are irretrievable.
“All of these things and more have left me weak, susceptible to psychic injury. I have struggled to capture my center, as you both know, but it has thus far eluded my grasp. I have, as the saying goes, thrown in that proverbial towel. I’m tired. I’ve nothing more to give, no fight left in me, no more desire to ‘tough it out’. I am simply... done.
“This, ladies, is where I am, why I agreed to come here and what I believe – what I hope, you can help me with.” Monica stopped speaking to once again survey the temperature of the room.
As she had suspected, Toni was wide-eyed, having picked-up on the subtext of her speech somewhere toward its conclusion. Kat’s eyes flung daggers at her from across the room. Monica smiled with part two of her plan unraveling before her, i.e., to get at least one of them angry enough at her to wish her dead, hence willing to assist. Toni disentangled herself from Kat’s grip and shot over to Monica, scooping her up into her arms, holding her tightly. Shocked, once again, at how slender Monica had let herself become coupled with the futility and tragedy of the situation, Toni began to bellow tearfully, seemingly from her entire being, the force of which took even her by surprise.
Monica did not respond in kind – did not respond at all, but that didn’t matter a whit to Toni. She simply needed Monica to know that her feelings of desperation and isolation were not entirely accurate. She was loved and she would always have a friend in her, messages she tried in vain to convey.
Monica was too deeply wounded to appreciate or positively respond to the gesture; her ability to be repaired had expired long before Toni ever met her. Still, Toni couldn’t let go; suicide was incomprehensible to her. Kat walked over to her and suggested that perhaps she should go and splash some cold water on her face and give Monica a chance to breathe. As soon as Toni was out of ear shot, having stumbled toward the bathroom in a daze, Kat lanced into Monica with surgical precision.
“Toni doesn’t believe there ever could be even one circumstance in which suicide is an acceptable solution to a problem. She is a dogmatically moral woman - almost religiously so. She only recently started believing in abortion borne from rape so what makes you think you could bring this into our home and what, like she’d open her arms to it and help you tie the noose around your scrawny little neck?” Kat angrily whispered.
“No, of course I didn’t think that she’d accept my premise but I certainly knew you would.” Monica smiled broadly as she watched Kat’s reaction transform multiple times over the span of five seconds.
“What? No! What the fuck do you expect me to do! Do you think I’m going to kill you and let you off that morally culpable hook? No way, sister; I don’t dislike you that much. Not gonna happen. Forget it.” Kat had become furious at Monica’s presumption that she could be manipulated into complicity, becoming a cold-blooded killer.
“No, no, come on Kat. I’m fucked up but I’m not a monster. I’ve thought about this quite a bit. After receiving your invitation to come here, out of nowhere mind you, this idea hit me in a brilliant illumination – an answer to my dilemma; an exit strategy, if you will.
“The one sticking point I’ve been wrestling with is the discovery phase. You know, I don’t want Richard or Desmond to find my decaying corpse weeks after I’ve died. Too gruesome and disturbing; they’re visual people so would be saddled with that image for the rest of their lives. I also don’t want any of my neighbors to call-in a sour smell wafting out of my studio – that would make the news and I don’t want that to happen either.
“What I’d like for you to do is simply make the discovery and call the police, coroner, coordinate with my attorney, make certain my last wishes are respected, etcetera. And don’t worry; it’ll be a clean death – no gunshot wounds, rope or anything similarly disturbing. My plan is to asphyxiate using helium. Quick, clean, painless. We can work out the logistics later.” Monica stopped speaking when Toni walked back into the room.
Toni was shaking uncontrollably but refused Kat’s offer of comfort, thinking it selfish to accept that act of kindness in front of a despondent Monica when her world was so clearly falling apart. What she didn’t realize, not having heard their interchange, was that Kat too had become viscerally shaken and needed to be comforted. Toni pulled out an ottoman, placed it directly in front of Monica and, taking her hand in hers, settled in for speech of her own. Before she could start, Kat interjected by saying that people’s decisions should be respected regardless of whether or not one finds the subject matter objectionable. Monica thanked her for being so understanding and then wondered whether Kat might have had an ulterior motive for wanting her permanently out of the way. She smiled at the thought of being considered a threat even under these circumstances of looking and living lik
e a walking corpse.
“I do respect her wishes, Kat. Please, just trust me.” Toni turned back around to face Monica, waiting several beats before speaking as she didn’t want to fall apart again before having her say.
“I’ve known you for a long time already. Right from the start you were never happy, never accepted that what happened to you didn’t have to dictate your future, never accepted that you had the power to change your perspective on things. Only you could have made the shift from interpreting your life and the darkness that you’ve made it, as a catastrophic mess, as opposed to letting it go and moving forward, independent of and individuated from the dysfunction that created you. Sometimes negative shit can be turned to ones advantage.” Toni put up her hand to stop Monica from verbalizing any protestations. She was angry that Monica had given up, subpar parenting notwithstanding, and refused to be dissuaded from voicing her rebuttal.
“You simply can’t change the past. Fucked up things have happened to you; that’s a fact and I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have a mother walk out on you and never look back and then have your dad blame you for it but as horrific as it is, it’s your history.
“Conversely, you have talents that are extraordinary and even the darkness of your rage could have been channeled to your advantage rather than being used as the instrument of your demise. You made the choice to dwell on what you didn’t have rather than move forward and revel in the wondrous gifts that you had to offer.” Toni paused and furrowed her brow.
“So then your mood lightened after you accepted the invitation to come here knowing that you planned on divulging to us your desire to end your life? I can’t...” Toni stopped speaking before the sobs threatened once again to overtake her. She put up one hand in a gesture that asked them to be patient while she collected herself. Kat relocated to sit directly behind Toni on the ottoman and held her tightly.
“You are breaking my heart, Monica, but I do have a general understanding of the pain that you’re in. I was there while you were trying all manner of drugs, prescription and street. You’ve been institutionalized, have had private counseling and have even toyed with religion to help you find some peace and get your shit together yet nothing has had any beneficial effect on you. Not even my love for you did much good. You’ve been spiraling out of control, like, forever.
“I don’t agree with your decision to end your life but I also realize that with so few real freedoms in this world, making a critical decision regarding the path of our own life force should remain within our right to choose. And anyway, a person can’t stay alive simply to avoid hurting another. That would only perpetuate the suffering, create resentments and make life even more miserable for all parties involved. No one needs that.
“I can see how your relentless battles against depression have chipped away at you. It can’t possibly feel good to live like that and then watch helplessly as your sense of dislocation increases with each passing day.” Toni put her head down and with as much strength as she could muster, asked Monica to explain exactly what she wanted from them.
A Secondary, Intermediate Intervention
“Toni..., Toni! What do you think you’re doing?” Kat saw Toni run for her cell phone seconds after Monica’s departure and worried that she was about to do something ill-advised.
Toni had been biding her time while Monica was in the apartment, playing along as if she had every intention of helping her old friend end her life, nicely, cleanly and with the compassion reserved for besties – a death with dignity. Kat hadn’t realized that Toni possessed any talent for credible fakery and was duly impressed as she truly bought-in to the facade that Toni was completely on-board. She even put some thought to the logistics of how they would feasibly make the discovery without it appearing contrived. Two ex-lovers stumbling upon a dead body could so easily go awry with suspicious cops looking askance at them, automatically presuming their complicity or worse yet that they had decided to off her in some jealous lovers rage.
Kat could appreciate the psychic pain Monica was forced to endure but suicide was unlawful and anyone accused and convicted of assisting would suffer the same fate as Dr. Kevorkian and Kat did not feature spending the remainder of her life imprisoned for murder, irrespective of the moral merit of the underpinning rationale.
Kat was about to suggest that Monica simply secure a sufficient supply of heroin and overdose right before she was to appear somewhere, which would then prompt an immediate investigation and the discovery of her peaceful corpse before its rot had the chance to become visually disturbing or stink up the studio, but never got the chance to offer her variation on that suicidal theme as Toni was so happily making plans with Monica before shuffling her out the door. She scheduled a follow-up meeting several days hence. Toni cited the need to ensure that the logistical loose ends were thought carefully through lest it turn into a debacle of tabloid fodder that no one in the room wanted to deal with. Monica was hoping for a quick, painless, quiet exit so agreed to Toni’s meticulous planning request. She thanked Toni as she left, kissed her cheek while feeling more in control of herself than she had in years.
“Hi, Desmond?” Toni hadn’t heard his voice in some time so wanted to make certain it was him.
“Yes..., Toni? Is that you?” Desmond seemed pleased to hear her voice.
“Yeah, it’s me. Look, forgive me for dispensing with the standard pleasantries but I need to speak with you – and Richard too if he’s around.” Toni paused to allow the content of her alarm to sink in. She knew he would understand that Monica was the source of her concern so thought it best if his mind were to veer toward that path before she continued.
“Oh, I see. Please tell me she’s still alive.” Desmond held his breath for several beats while bracing himself for the news.
“Depends on how you define life, Desi,” Toni responded.
“Oh, thank god. Trust me when I say it’s been a living hell trying to keep my mind off of her desire to die. I’m actually surprised she’s lasted this long.” Desmond was clearly upset but, over time, had become almost inured to the tragedy of Monica’s frailty.
“Well, she just tried to commission my girlfriend and me to be somewhat complicit in her scheme to commit suicide and I played along and everything but I just can’t do it. I can only imagine the pain that she’s in, it’s heart-breaking and all, but I just can’t do it.” Toni said.
“You don’t have to tell me, sister; she’s done the same thing to us. Richard and I have been doing whatever we can to keep her engaged in life – new projects, commissions abroad; she even spent three months in Japan and when she returned she was in the best spirits she’d been in since we left New York. But her peaceful state of body and mind was short-lived. So Richard and I said to each other, ‘why not just have her relocate there on a more permanent basis’, but she refused to even entertain that possibility citing the language barrier and how it would be too great an obstacle to overcome. She was pretty deeply involved in drug use at the time so was not in any position to learn a new language, especially not one as technically complex as Japanese so we let it go and hoped that her happiness could be stretched out a bit longer.
“But of course things never turn out quite as you had anticipated and it didn’t take longer than two weeks after she returned to New York before she od’ed yet again but was found in time, stomach pumped and shut up in that same psychiatric facility for another month. Even with health insurance, their objective is to patch you up and deposit you back onto the streets and let you fend for yourself, irrespective of how fragile you might still be.
“If hospital personnel were to lay a wager on the probability of her returning to their lovely facility, not one person, from doctor, to orderly to the guy who cleans the toilets would take that bet against her, as obvious as it was that they’d be seeing her again.
“I understand her angst – she’s explained that it’s like watching herself take an action, knowing full well that her behavior is
destructive, feeling a glimmer of hope that she might be able to heal and live some semblance of a normal life and then be utterly incapable of stopping the momentum of her self immolation once the negative trajectory reasserts its existence – a state of complete and utter helplessness.
“Nothing has been able to help her, not therapy, or medication, or meditation, or a retreat – or even true love, Toni. Maybe some people are just wired that way; their trajectory cannot be redirected no matter how honorable or rational the efforts are to produce a more positive conclusion.
“I know you know what I’m talking about so please don’t hate me when I ask why you’re calling me now. I think you’re going to ask me to come to New York, maybe shelter her embattled soul once again, maybe send her a plane ticket and demand that she come here but then what? What will happen next? We sit and wait for our ticking little time bomb to explode?
“You walked away because you couldn’t take it anymore – no blame, Toni. We know she would have brought you down with her if you’d have stayed any longer. So now imagine how difficult it’s been for me, for us – twofold the amount of time that you’ve known her.
“We were hoping that your stability and unconditional love would have filled her emotional void and demonstrated to her that life doesn’t have to be such a dark, destructive experience - that sometimes parents simply have their own agendas, irrespective of having been so negligent as to bring a child into this world without any intention of loving it but that sometimes the gods of fate offer us an apology and that one should take advantage of the beauty being offered to her because lord only knows, true love is a rare commodity, but when being with you didn’t help her, we kind of gave up – silently. We didn’t say anything to her and although we always held some measure of hope for her eventual improvement, these last two years have taught us nothing if not that her destiny is preordained and we are powerless to thwart the inevitability of her annihilation.
Love Finds Its Pocket Page 12
