The Suicide Diary (14 page)

For the rest of the evening, Ali took me under his wing overseeing every flat pint, smashed glass and mixed up order. It didn’t feel like work at all when I’d finished my first shift successfully – by which I mean I managed not to spill drink on any customers or mess up too many orders. By the end of the first week I knew the names of most of the more popular drinks and even began to recognise a few of the regulars. Ali was helpful without looking over my shoulder the entire time and forthcoming with hints but never pushy on perfection.

“So your name, is it short for anything?” I asked Ali.

“Believe it or not, it’s actually short for Alistair.” he replied.

“Why wouldn’t I believe it?” I asked cautiously.

“Maybe because I don’t really look like an Alistair and people always think I’m joking. My grandparents were Egyptian; my Mother met my British father while she was studying and a few years later I came along.” he said.

“Alistair is a nice name, but you definitely suit Ali more.” I said.

His strong physical features were a direct contrast to his gentle personality. He was warm and had a vulnerability to him that felt familiar. The first few weeks came and went and I began to find comfort in my routine. I took on more shifts as I gained confidence and when I was home I did what I could to help my Mother.

Aside from a fixed amount of money for our distant cousins, my Grandmother’s estate had been left almost entirely to my Mother and there were a lot of belongings to go through. My brothers and I accompanied her to our Grandmother’s home that was now just a house filled with a lifetime of possessions, as though it had lost its very soul. It took almost two weeks to box up everything and my Mother decided to put it in to storage until she could bear to go through it all more carefully.

My Grandmother had left explicit instructions that the house was only bricks and mortar, and was to be sold as soon as possible and the money used by her daughter and grandchildren as they wished. The only thing she asked was that it be something that made us truly happy. I would have traded every penny to have my Grandmother back and from the looks on the faces of my brothers, I know they would have done the same. It was just the three of us now.

As August drew to a close, my Mother began talking about buying a little holiday home for us so that we could still take trips together like we used sometimes to when we went to visit our Grandmother. Matthew had already decided he would look into setting up a small business of some kind and he certainly had the confidence and ability to do that. Joshua was taking it the hardest, at least on the outside. He had been too young to remember our Father before he left us and so this was his first loss and the realisation of mortality is always such a shock when you first experience it.

I had spent the weekends and my odd days off helping with the packing up and working in the days in between. Joe had been kind enough to offer to rearrange my schedule to give me more time off, but I had already taken a few days off for the funeral and the last thing I needed was more time on my hands.

So life went on as normally as it could, although there were moments when I felt tears prick my eyes and my throat would burn and I had to bite my lip to stop from crying. Everyone was kind and sympathy cards poured through our letter box from distant relatives, neighbours, my Mother’s work colleagues, friends of my brothers,  my friends from university and even a few from school that I hadn’t spoken to in over a year.

I made sure to send a ‘thank you for your thoughts’ email or text to everyone that had sent a card – there weren’t many for me so I helped my Mother send out her thank you cards to the ones who had attended the funeral. It didn’t think it was particularly a custom, but she wanted to or maybe just needed to keep busy and I could relate to that.

After a busy Friday or Saturday night shift we were always offered a free drink which I routinely declined. Usually the staff would sit on for an hour and chat amongst themselves, if I was in the mood I would serve them drinks or if I wasn’t I would head home as soon as the last glass was washed. This particular night I was still behind the bar thirty minutes after my shift had ended.

“Nina I have a favour to ask – are you free next Saturday?” asked Ali.

I knew I wasn’t on the rota and I needed any extra shifts going so I nodded quickly.

“Great I’ve got an invite to a party.” he said.

“Sure I’d be happy to cover for you and I….” I replied before he cut me off.

“No, you misunderstand; I’m asking you to come with me.” he said.

I stared at him blankly so he continues.                                                                              

“I need a plus one and I am literally going to beg you if you say no so if you say yes it will save me the humiliation. You would be doing me a huge favour. Please?” he asked again.

Although it was a private conversation it was obvious there were ears pricked nearby and I watched the ripple effect unfold in front of me as word spread. And believe me, it wasn’t just me that found this unfathomable. Plenty of the girls – staff and customers - made their thoughts known later on the matter.

Ali was the kind of person you just couldn’t say no to and I felt bad about turning him down. So it was a shock when I found my mouth saying yes.

He looked delighted. “Great, it’ll be fun and you can try actually drinking some of those cocktails you love instead of serving them.” he said.

I started scrambling for a reasonable excuse to back out. “I don’t have anything to wear.” I exclaimed.

“Normally I’d find it ridiculous that a girl could say that but something tells me you’re telling the truth. No offence, but all I ever see you in is leggings and over-sized shirts.” he said.

“Well it is the uniform!” I say in my defence.

“Yes but most of the other girls get changed once they get here and afterwards, I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything but black  baggy tops.” he said.

Getting dressed once a day or evening was as much as I could manage at that point and it just seemed a waste of effort to me.

I looked down at my outfit and realised my wardrobe was mostly filled with variations of this ensemble. I'd taken to wearing leggings when my legs were badly bruised since jeans rubbed harshly at my skin and cotton was a little kinder against my swollen flesh. The oversized blouses also had a purpose in wearing them so no one could see when my weight fluctuated. When the bruises healed, I had spent so much effort keeping a smile on my face and focusing on my studies that I lost over a stone. I used the excuse of work hygiene for keeping my hair knotted up, when really it had lost so much of its shine and thickness that it looked terrible hanging limply around my face.

Before I moved back home, living away meant no one there to make sure I ate three meals a day and other than the one I served up to my flatmates or in the bar with my college friends so I frequently made it to dinner without anything passing my lips. I had lost my appetite somewhere between being beaten and picking up the pieces after my Grandmothers death. Before then food had always been a source of pleasure to me, it reminded me of family dinners and indulgent lunches with my Grandmother, but afterwards it was like I just couldn't find the missing ingredient to get back that sense of enjoyment.

I had promised myself I would try to do better and so far all I had done was get a job to keep myself from going stir crazy in the evenings. Something needed to change, even if it was just baby steps so I called Kara and after a few pleasantries, I asked her to come shopping with me and she agreed.

That Saturday I spent the afternoon apprehensively picking up various skirts and tops only for Kara to screw up her face and put them back again. Eventually her patience ran out and she pulled me towards a shop that I never been in before. Twenty minutes later I peeked nervously out from behind the curtain, only to be ordered out by Kara. For someone so dainty looking she had a way about her that made everyone do as she asked (or in this case demanded) so I found myself being ushered out in to a large open area with mirrors all around the walls. Kara followed me in and sat down as I walked unsteadily towards the wall and looked at the girl in the mirror. She looked almost nice in the strapless dress which flattered her unusually pale skin. I knew it was me but it took a moment to see myself in her image. I had hurriedly pulled my hair down in the changing room on Kara’s orders and I was glad it was long enough to cover my shoulders that were now a little too sharp.

“There I knew I had to finally get you in a dress and show off your figure. You need to stop hiding.”

I knew she meant physically but she was right in more ways than one. I had been hiding. I’d let Connor go without a fight and hadn’t put up a fight at all with Chris or Anthony.

Saturday night was a dinner and dance fundraiser for a local children’s charity and all of Ali’s family and friends of family were in attendance. I got the distinct impression it wasn’t a regular thing for him to have a plus one along. My new dress fitted neatly on top but the skirt half swished around my newly epilated, exfoliated, moisturised legs and I smiled a little more than I had in a long time. Even if most of it was for the purposes of being polite during the countless introductions, it made a change from my usual lack of expression.

At the end of the evening Ali joined me in my taxi for the journey home. When we pulled up to the pavement outside my family home he gave me a quick kiss on my cheek and said “Thank you for coming with me tonight. See you back at the grinding stone Tuesday night. Sweet dreams hunny.”

We went to a couple more parties over the next month – all at his request since I had no parties to plus one anyone along to. His family was big on charity and his Father owned a large company in London which sponsored various lunches and evenings events where I wasn’t pressured in to drinking and I managed to dance without falling on my face.

Our first kiss took me by surprise but it was very gentle and sweet, just a few moments touch of lips at the end of the night after our third evening out together. I hadn't let another guy kiss me since Chris. If he hadn’t pulled back almost instantly, I think I would have flinched but thankfully it was too dark for him to see the expression on my face. “Goodnight sweet Nina.” he said.

I carefully unzipped my dress and hung it gently over the chair and slipped my shoes back in to the wardrobe. Since my Mother wouldn’t accept any dig money I was lucky to have all my wages to spend on what I liked. Although I splashed out on a few new outfits, my weight was all over the place so I limited my spending on clothing to a minimum and put the rest away in a savings account with the money my Grandmother had left to me. That night I slid into bed feeling a little more optimistic.

Just like Cinderella I was back to casuals for the rest of the time I spent with Ali as besides the charity events we met occasionally for lunch or the cinema. I was surprised he had any free time for me since he also worked for a local entertainment company as an intern, and was angling for a full time position since he’d gained his degree at the same time I’d completed my first year exams. He had left school a year early so he was nineteen, and yet he already knew what he wanted. He had endless energy and he matched me smile for frown and laugh for sigh every time. Whenever we were together he held my hand and walked with me like I belonged to him. Apart from kisses goodnight or goodbye, it couldn’t have gone at a better pace for me while I was trying to adjust to actively making an effort this time.

I accompanied him to several more work and family events over the next few months. The nice pace continued, but I began to notice it wasn’t progressing any further. He was the most wonderful boyfriend a girl could ask for, so sweet, kind, generous and a real gentleman. On our first overnight together he had invited me along on a weekend event he wanted to attend for work experience. We had separate rooms across the hallway from each other. I thanked him for his thoughtfulness but he said he had asked for two rooms as he wanted to take things slowly too.

Three months after our first date I knew I wanted to try taking things just a little further. And this turned out to be one of the most humiliating experiences of my life to date. In his flat he had made a delicious dinner and I enjoyed talking with him over our meal together. While he moved to the living area to choose a DVD I went to the bathroom. We had been together three months and I knew I’d been holding back – not just with him but with every guy I’d been with in the last few years. I wanted to be with Ali, and so of course I was near panic level while I stood in his bathroom staring into the mirror. I dabbed at my face with a powder brush and ran fingers through my hair. It was tempting just to stay in there, but eventually he would come looking for me and I don’t think telling him I was too scared to come out was the best start to moving forward. I knew I wasn’t ready for sex just yet but there were bases in between we could maybe attempt. Walking out to him I tried to steady my breathing.

“Ali.” I said.

He looked at me with his smile reaching his eyes and gestured to four DVDs he had selected.

“Ladies choice?” he offered.

Taking a deep breath and managing not to falter in my steps or my words would be quite an achievement. “I was thinking maybe we could try something different?” I said.

I sat next to him and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips. He responded after just a beat and lifted his hand to touch mine gently. It was the first time I had kissed him first so it was a step in the right direction. As I pulled back I tried to keep the look of terror from my eyes. A look of confusion crossed his face and then comprehension. He visibly inhaled, opened and then closed his mouth again as if lost for words and a frown crossed him forehead.