The Suicide Diary (34 page)

I sat down and grabbed a menu, grateful to be able to hide behind it. The waitress appeared and I couldn’t help but notice her eyes firmly on Alex. He could have been sitting alone for all the attention she paid me. And yet his eyes never left my face while he placed his order or at least what he could see over the top of my menu.

I could feel the heat under my cheeks intensifying and I tried to sink further into the seat, pretending to flick through the pages. I'm not even sure what I ordered but once the waitress had gone I suddenly wished she would come back because it felt just a little too uncomfortable with just the two of us sat there. He was still staring at me with a gentle smile, seeming as unsure as I was as to what we were both doing here.

It was as if something had drawn us together into that bookstore on the same day at exactly the same moment. It wasn't as if it was the only bookstore that sold Coelho’s books and certainly not the only one in town. It was a little unnerving that I felt a strange connection to this Alex.

I was so deep in thought, I almost jumped when he spoke "I know this is most likely going to sound like a come-on but it's not, it's just when I met you in the bookstore, at first I thought I knew you, as if I recognised you but now I’m sure we've never met." It wasn't a question but I wasn't sure how to respond. In the past I avoided anyone that I felt this kind of connection with, even the few intense relationships I’d had, had a get-out clause. With Nika, I knew we couldn't just stay in Italy forever and our own homes were in different countries. And Oliver lived far enough away that it made it difficult to get in too deep. Back then, if I'd met Alex I would have made my excuses and left without a backward glance. I would have gotten out of the cafe and ran away from any possibility of connecting with someone. But something in me had changed since meeting my Father again.

So I didn't run and I didn't even try to stop the conversation drifting from our mutual favourite author onto other things as we each talked about our families, growing up, our travels, what we loved and hated, and places we had been. At first I listened to him talk about his travels, asking him questions like I usually do, but soon we were conversing back and forth and when he asked me anything he let me ramble on without interruption, listening to me talk about some of the happier times in my life.

I never believed you could get to know someone truly in a matter of hours but here I sat listening to Alex as he talked and laughed, using his hands to help describe a multitude of things in his life. I didn't feel afraid, maybe I'd run out of things to be afraid of, or perhaps I figured I could just enjoy this moment with this beautiful stranger and then leave and slip back into my non-existence. It wasn't like he could be the one - I'd decided a long time ago that if I was going to believe in such things then I must be half of a broken soul and destined to remain that way. This could just be one of the wonderful moments in life I looked back on. It might not come of anything. But the point was I was there and I was still there several hours and many cups of coffee later.

And then he had to go and ruin it all. Why couldn't he just enjoy the pleasure of a coffee and whiling away a few hours in the company of a stranger. He asked to see me again. Just like that - as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And really it should have been. But I couldn't bring myself to say yes; in fact something like "ermiwha" was all that came out of my mouth.

I slammed the door of the toilet cubicle shut and leaned against the wall, my breathing raspy and too fast like I was hyperventilating. I wasn’t ready for this, not sure I’d ever be ready for it again. I pulled myself together as best I could, walking slightly unsteadily back out to where Alex sat.

"I'm sorry that was a little melodramatic, I just, I can't do this, it's not you..." I said.

"It's not you, it's me right?" he replied.

"No really it is me, I'm not good for you." I answered.

He stared at me hard for a few seconds as if pondering something. "Did it cross your mind that I might be good for you?" he said.

"I can't, it just wouldn't work" I managed to get out in between broken breaths.

Alex had cursed himself for that statement about being good for her, he didn’t even know the girl. Yet he’d wanted to. He remembered in that moment feeling slightly desperate that he may never see her again. Ridiculously he spent his journey home contemplating visiting the same bookshop every week around the same time. He regretted not asking her surname, it would have been easy enough to track her down on any social networking site – if she used them at all.

The following day I picked up my new book and settled down to enjoy a little bit of escapism. I didn't even make it to the first line. There on the inside cover was a small piece of paper with a telephone number and a line inked in neat, elegant writing.

‘Whatever reason you have, don't let it stop you from living your life. Alex’

She had run from the room after he’d asked her out. He’d been knocked back once or twice in his life but that had to be a first. Something told him this wasn’t a girl to let go of so easily. Borrowing a pen from a waiter, his hand shook slightly as he scrawled out his number and that message.

It was a minute or so before I realised I'd stopped breathing and my body took a desperate intake of air making me shake involuntarily. How dare he presume to know what I was doing with my life? He had no idea. But even through my anger I had to admit that perhaps he did know something of pain. Although I hadn't told him anything of that particular past of mine, something told me he had been holding back on me too.

What did it matter anyway - I was still writing in my suicide diary so the last thing I should be considering was getting close to someone new. I shoved thoughts of Alex to the back of my mind. Day in, day out, I filled the hours with my usual little routine of breakfast, cleaning the flat, work some days, seeing Joshua on others and once a week I went home for dinner with my family. Occasionally I met with Ali or one of the girls and listened to their stories.

Two weeks passed and I read the two books I had bought in the store, along with several others I had borrowed from my Mother. I headed in to town and in to the same bookshop again. I could have gone to where I used to work but since I’d moved it was a little further away, at least that’s what I told myself when I wandered up the stairs to the aisle I was looking for. It was empty, I let out the breath I‘d been holding and tried to ignore my confused feelings on that. I choose a book from the shelf and went to walk to another aisle.

“Hey.” came a voice from behind me.

I turned but not without knowing who it would be standing there.

“Hey Alex.” I replied.

“So coffee?” he asked.

My head nodded, while my mind was saying ‘no, no, no, no, what are you doing?!’

I was sure I wasn’t his type and the only thing we would have in common was our love of books so that was at least reassuring. We spent another few hours sat hugging our mugs of coffee and chatting about whatever came to mind.

I left in late afternoon but not without a promise to him that I would be in the same bookshop, same time next week. This went on for weeks as we spent our Saturday afternoons perusing the aisles and dissecting plotlines and characters. It was slightly surreal and I felt like one of the characters in a story where girl meets boy. Except in this one girl likes boy, boy is enjoying having company to discuss his favourite authors, but will soon realise girl is not normal and will exit scene.

I was still waiting for that moment. Yet I willed myself over and over to say goodbye for good to this guy that could so easily jeopardise the careful balance I had constructed in my life.

And then one day he did something that made my heart stutter. He stepped closer towards me and leaned down pressing his lips gently to my cheek. I think my heart skipped several beats with the tenderness in that one little barely-there kiss.

He hugged me then and it felt nice. It was almost comfortable and I told myself it was like hugging one of my brothers so I didn’t feel terrified. No, that part happened when the other person tried to take it further. But Alex didn’t push me; in fact it reminded me of how things were with Ali and I wondered if he might be gay too.

Gay! Seriously, how could she think that he could be interested in guys when he could barely drag his eyes from her face? Had hugging him really felt like hugging one of her brothers? Ouch. He thought he had made it pretty obvious that he liked her. Although maybe not at first, they were just friends in the beginning and he had held back so much.

Alex had shut down after Will had taken his life and it had been hard to let anyone in again. It was easy when he was travelling, everyone was a stranger and after a few days he would pack up and head somewhere new and he would never have to stay connected to anyone for too long. So he had kept Nina at a safe distance at first. His friend DJ pointed out that he was so careful with her that she would never have guessed how he felt.  The truth was he hadn’t known himself.

After only a month of knowing Nina three of his friends tried to tell him he was in love with her, but he chose to ignore the feelings. He remembered thinking she was interesting, beautiful, intelligent and had a wicked sense of humour when she tried it out. But he had no intentions of settling down at that time. He never made time for relationships and as soon as he completed his final year at uni he’d planned to go travelling again. He thought now if he’d admitted what he was feeling was real maybe it could have saved them.

I know you shouldn’t stereotype people but he reads a lot, likes cooking, dresses really well, and seems to have a lot of platonic female friends and has a great relationship with his Mother. It would be simpler if he was gay, we could stay friends and I could enjoy his affection.

Since he was a student and I only worked in the evenings we began to meet for breakfast and spent our free mornings in local bookshops and although we tried other coffee houses we rarely strayed from the first one we had visited together. We shared our childhood stories and talked about his current studies and my past attempt at university attendance. I told him how much I admired my Mother and Grandmother and told him stories of growing up with two brothers and even touched a little on the subject of my Father.

He in turn spoke about his life and mostly about his travels but very rarely mentioned his family or home life.

“Why do I feel like there is something you’re not telling me?” I asked him one day.

“I figure you’re the curious type so now you’ll have to see me again – because we still have more to talk about.” he replied.

I couldn’t work out if he had really noticed how curious I am or if he was just being cocky.

We said goodbye again outside the coffee house as usual, a slightly awkward moment where I wasn’t sure if I should hug him or shake his hand and usually ended up just waving a farewell and wandering off in the direction of the train station. It became a little routine, until one day when something happened that changed it all.

There was a woman crossing the road in front of me and a car swerved. I saw it before she did and tried to pull her back but it came at us too quickly. It hit her with the most terrible sound and she crumbled to the ground pulling me down with her.

Alex remembered that day so strongly - the waitress had come out of the coffee shop carrying Nina’s bag with a new book and he had thanked the girl and run after Nina. He had been heading the opposite direction but he wouldn’t be far ahead, he ran towards the end of the street, his shoes hitting the pavement hard and his breathing becoming short and strained. Suddenly there was a screeching sound as a car braked too quickly and skidded on the road. He rounded the corner to see a dark vehicle stopped dead in the middle of the road and people running towards it. Alex couldn’t see past them and his heart missed a beat when he saw Nina’s bag lying on the road with the contents splayed across the road. It was like everything was in slow motion and he focused on the silver lipstick tube on the road rolling round. Someone was on a mobile calling an ambulance for the ‘driver and a young, injured woman’. He knew he should run the last few steps but edging any further forward would change everything.

“Alex?” said a voice.

He moved forward a step and looked down to find Nina knelt on the other side of the vehicle looking up at him. She looked shaken but in one piece from what he could determine from first glance. But talking means breathing and breathing means alive. He on the other hand hadn’t taken a breath since he heard the screech of the car coming to a sudden halt. His lungs were straining and were grateful when he took in a slow, shaky breath. He pushed his way through the crowd that had appeared. Nina was holding the head of a young, blonde woman he didn’t recognise. Her ankle was badly swollen with what looked like bone breaking through the skin. She was ashen and there was blood on her clothes and on the road around her, but thankfully not a lot and he could see her chest moving up and down with slow, even breaths. Nina was talking to her in a low voice too quiet for him to hear her words but he could tell she was trying to soothe the woman and it seemed to work since the woman opened her eyes and gripped Nina’s hand and tried to smile a little.