The flat looked so flat, as if it emphasizing the death of its inhabitant. The bed was perfectly made. There was not even a book or a simple note left on the huge wooden bureau, just the three photos of her and her new boyfriend. A CD-cover was left alone on the player, yet it looked much more like decorations in big shopping centers rather than a sign that someone had lived there sometime and might have had the intention of listen to the music or in this case watching the film; It was the French film “le grand bleu”.
“It does not pass.” she whispered between her sniffs, wiping another tear carefully and slightly away. Yet the police officer did hear her and turned to her “Pardon ma’am?” he asked.
“Unlikely of him committing suicide watching le grand bleu,” she said, her voice trembling.
“What about the photos?”
“Had no idea he was spying on me. Haven’t seen each other the past month… no time, you know… it was natural… everything was natural, as usual, you know… didn’ know he was back at his place…” she made a break to wipe another tear and took a stolen glance at the sofa “There? You said there you found him?”
The officer nodded.
“Poison? You said… poison he has taken?” she did not wait for the answer, “Which?”
“Whom you said called you to come here?”
“She’s actually his mom’s cousin, but they were real close frien…nds” she gasped to think the word friend over, then remembering their friendship, she sighed.
“Is there something you are considering whether to say or not?” asked the officer.
“Just… just flashbacks … why would he have to…?”
“What did she exactly told you when she called?”
It took her two seconds to realize what he really meant “Eem… she just said I deserved to see this, didn’t tell me what, though,” then she suddenly asked “was she here?” and to make sure she said the name before the officer would give her any uncertain answers.
“I guess then she is the one who called the police. Do you suppose they were close enough for her to have the keys to his flat?”
“Absolutely…no doubt.” and she added “that was why I came after her call”
“Yet it took you about one day” said the officer, not as friendly. She did not know if she was being suspected or blamed or whether it was the usual suspection of a police officer that she should be here one day after a pretty important call.
She was taking a longer look around when the door opened and the cousin entered, greeting the police officer and confirming to have actually made the call and then walking to her.
Greeting her, the cousin just nodded with the head. She suddenly felt lost. She felt like beating this woman up, yet she also felt like a loud sob in her arms. There was something worse about her: the look in her eyes just reminded her more of him, as if she needed such a reminder after being in his flat for the past two hours. And then she felt the urge to tell this woman something she did not want to know; this woman who most probably knew every bit of the truth about his death and yet would not tell her. She had seen the blaming look in her eyes and found it unjust. That the woman in front of her, this cousin of his mother or this best friend of his - she still tried to avoid to think of the word “friend”-, was maybe suffering much more than she was, did not interest her. She did not want to bear the burden of being the reason to this great loss and she had to act fast.
She said in a hysterical sob “ Don’t you dare try and pin anything on me. That he might ever try of suicide, none of us would have guessed. He was NOT the person to give up fighting to live his life, we both knew, everyone knew… you thought as little and as impossible as I did that he would end himself like this”
The cousin looked at her with tears rolling up in her eyes, yet without even trying to say a word. This made her more eager to continue. She wanted to see this woman cry the way she had an hour ago, wanted her to feel desperate like she had felt.
“Just don’t you dare find fault with me… of course I know you love him” for a second she was surprised at the fact that she had indeed used the present tense, as if he was still there. “You loved him and yet you never tried to help him. Of course you were there whenever he needed you and of course you always listened, but you never DID anything, never.”
To watch the woman crush on the floor and burst into tears, she felt much lighter, yet she could not stay any more. This flat was too flat without him.
She ran down the stairs, got in the first taxi and told the driver to the cemetery out of the city. She thought of the highest price she would have paid to bring him back. She could not make up her mind. The suspension she felt braught new tears to her eyes. And then she was petrified. For she remembered how afraid he was to die without bleeding. It was the catch to the suicide story, he would not have commit suicide without his blood being spilled.
The End
