November 10, 2006
Chapter 11
(Filed under: The Novel)That night Anwyn walked over to Oliver and Catalina's, past the railroad tracks and toward the river. Catalina had a class on Monday nights and Oliver watched Mateo. He had asked Anwyn the other day if she wanted to come over and help.
Now, the English Lit suicide discussion still fresh in her mind, she wasn't as eager to watch Mateo and hang out with Oliver. She had seen his look of concern and puzzlement and she knew the subject would come up.
She pulled her jacket closer. With the sun dropping the temperature had started to fall with it. She wasn't afraid of the forthcoming conversation, she just didn't know where she stood. She was never sure if yet another conversation would mean anything, would clear anything up.
She knocked on the door and could hear Mateo crying and shrieking inside. She tried the door and it was unlocked. Nobody locked their doors in Richmond. She went inside and found Oliver desperately trying to soothe his nephew.
"Hola," Anwyn said.
"Hey," Oliver mumbled. "Thanks for coming. Here, you try." He pushed Mateo into her arms and stepped back. Anwyn struggled, trying to shift Mateo around and get a comfortable grip on him.
His eyes got wide and he stopped crying and looked at Anwyn.
"Hi there," she said. Mateo's lip quivered. "What have you tried?"
"I tried a bottle, I checked his diaper, I tried putting him down for a nap," Oliver said. "Nada."
"Maybe we just need attention," Anwyn said. She saw a pile of toys in the corner and plopped Mateo down on the floor within reach. She grabbed a wooden ring with small, bright colored rings that looped around it. She put it in front of Mateo and he laughed, a chuckling, fake sounding laugh.
Oliver dropped onto the couch. "Sure, he just wants to have fun. I was trying all the serious things like food and comfort and sleep." Mateo picked up the ring, which was heavy and unsteady in his hands. He shook it and the smaller rings rattled. He chuckled again.
Anwyn sat across from him, her legs folded beneath her. She watched Mateo and wondered what his future might be.
"Why do you think she did it?" Anwyn asked abruptly.
"What?" Oliver asked.
"Lynn had that theory today," Anwyn said, "That maybe Ophelia didn't mean to kill herself. Do you think that could have been the case with Isabelle?"
"Oh Anwyn," Oliver said. "I don't know." Mateo started chewing on the ring.
"She didn't have a boyfriend, I don't think anyone turned her down and sent her spiraling into depression. Nobody died. My parents got divorced because of her, so it wasn't that. She wasn't depressed, no more than any teen is. I just don't understand why."
Oliver didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on Mateo.
"So are you doing OK with it?" he finally asked.
"I don't know," Anwyn said. "It just doesn't seem to go away. I don't know if that's normal or not. I talked to a counselor back in St. Paul about it—Ms. Jonas. We talked quite a bit actually."
"What did she say?" Oliver asked.
"Not much. They're supposed to get me to talk." Mateo dropped his ring and Anwyn picked it up again and held it out to him. "She did seem pretty miffed with Isabelle—apparently she'd been helping Isabelle get ready for college, and well, that was a waste of time now wasn’t it?"
"Ouch," Oliver said.
"Yeah, I didn't expect that from a counselor," Anwyn said. "But I think she was trying to break through to me."
"Did it work?"
"Yeah, actually, I think it did," Anwyn said. "It convinced me to actually talk to her anyway."
"Did you ask her about the why question?" Oliver asked.
"Not really," Anwyn said. "Before I wasn't so concerned with why. I was just mad that she'd messed everything up. You know, I didn't really miss her. I still don't." Oliver finally looked at her.
"You don't miss her?" he asked. "Really?"
"Not really," Anwyn said. "I mean I wish she hadn't done it, but more because we wouldn't have moved to Kansas, because Mom and Dad wouldn't have gotten divorced, because I wouldn't have to go through all this hassle. Isn't that kind of stupid? Selfish?"
"I don't know," Oliver said. "Maybe. I’m no shrink. She did leave a lot of chaos in her wake, didn't she? I can see being upset about that. But you don't miss her?"
"C'mon Oliver," Anwyn said. "You know we never got along that well. As we got older we just ignored each other. I was hoping that would change with both of us going to the same school. I was hoping for some sisterly bonding or something. There was a day or two that summer when we did bond, when she stopped being high and mighty and would talk to me, would seek me out and joke with me. But most of the time she was too prissy and too royal to deem me worthy of her time."
Oliver slowly nodded, his eyes lost in a gaze. Mateo was still content on the floor, alternating between shaking his ring and sucking on it. Anwyn reached out and smoothed his shiny black hair.
"More than anything," Anwyn said, "I feel guilty that I don't miss her."
Oliver exhaled.
"Sorry," Anwyn said. "This is all a bit heavy."
"No," Oliver said, "It's OK."
"No, I'm sorry," Anwyn said. "You thought we were just going to pal around and watch this cut little squirt. Instead we sit around and talk about morbid topics like suicide in front of your little nephew." Oliver smiled.
"You know," Oliver said, "He's not really my nephew. He's maybe my half-nephew, if such a thing exists."
Anwyn smiled warmly, for the first time that day.
"You hear that kid," she said, "Your tio just disowned you. I guess I'll have to claim you." She reached forward and grabbed Mateo, pulling him into her lap. He giggled and she started tickling him, his face lighting up as he threw his arms out and his head back.
"So you've got no idea, about Isabelle?" Oliver asked. "Why she did it?"
Anwyn just shook her head, took Mateo's hands in hers. He leaned to the left and the right, half-dancing.
"I think that's part of it," she said. "I wish I had a reason. Something to blame. I just don't get why you kill yourself."
"You have to be pretty desperate, I guess," Oliver said. "You need to have no way out."
"But isn't there always some way out?" Anwyn said. "I mean, take measures into your own hands. If you're willing to bail out on life, why not at least try something else before you go that far?"
"I don't know," Oliver said."
"Take Ophelia," Anwyn said. She plopped Mateo back on the floor in front of her and gave him an oversized truck. He leaned forward and sucked on the cab. "Let's say it's Hamlet's rejection that had her all mopey and pushed her to kill herself. Why not get back at the bastard—sleep with his best friend or something. Or do something drastic to get his attention."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," Anwyn said, "Show up in his bedroom naked? Not many guys would turn that away."
Oliver stifled a laugh. "And suddenly this is Jerry Springer and not Shakespeare."
"Oh come on," Anwyn said. "Shakespeare is just high brow Jerry Springer. Hamlet's uncle kills his father and remarries his mom?"
"I guess," Oliver said.
"I just think if you're going to throw your life out the window, if you'd go that far to end your life—why not try something just as drastic to save your life?"
"That's a good question," Oliver said. He leaned forward and put his feet up on the coffee table. Mateo had given up on the truck and was sucking his finger now. "Maybe societal limitations keep you from acting out like that."
"Yet you'll still try suicide?" Anwyn asked.
"Well, suicide may be breaking out of society's limitations, but you're not around to hear about it," Oliver explained. "Maybe they don't try something drastic because they'd still be around to take heat for breaking society's rules."
"Maybe," Anwyn said.
"I mean, Ophelia doesn't seem like the type to go strutting into Hamlet's room naked. She's too prim and proper. Society had a specific place for her, and she stayed in that place. Suicide was breaking out of that place, but it was the ultimate breaking out. She didn't have to live with the consequences." Anwyn nodded, starting to get his point.
"A drastic action to save your life would have consequences," Oliver continued, "And I think consequences are exactly what a suicidal person is trying to avoid."
Anwyn nodded. Mateo switched to his thumb and his eyes were starting to flutter. Avoiding consequences. It seemed to be a worthy definition of suicide. After all, how many people throughout history had killed themselves to escape the consequences of their actions?
"I don't know," Anwyn finally said. "I guess I'd rather at least go out in a blaze of glory, accomplish something with my death if it had to come to that."
"And that's part of my you and Isabelle are so different."
"I wonder sometimes," Anwyn said. "If I knew why she did it, I might be able to feel different from her. But if there's no reason—"
"It seems like something anyone could do?" Oliver interjected.
"Yeah."
"Well, what would make you want to kill yourself?" Oliver asked.
"Oh geez, I don't know," said Anwyn. "Maybe we should put Mateo to bed before he has to listen to more of this." The two stood up and Oliver bent down to pick up his half-nephew.
"I guess something tragic that seems insurmountable might make suicide seem like a good idea," Anwyn said as they walked into Mateo's room. She flicked on the light and Oliver set Mateo on the changing table. "Like if you did something terrible—killed somebody or committed some crime."
"Doesn't sound like Isabelle, does it?" Oliver asked.
"No, not really."
"Here, hold on to him," Oliver said, stepping away from Mateo and towards the dresser to find pajamas. Mateo pulled at Anwyn's shirt as she stood in front of the changing table to keep him from rolling off.
"Or if something awful happened to you—you found out a boyfriend cheated on your or found out your were pregnant or something," Anwyn said, now just grasping for reasons.
"But you didn't think Isabelle had a boyfriend," Oliver said, finding the pajamas and coming back to change Mateo. "That you know of, anyway."
"No, no boyfriend that we knew of," Anwyn said. "And pregnancy doesn't seem right. I think she would have been elated if that happened, even if Mom and Dad would freak out."
Oliver pulled off Mateo's onsie as he kicked and stretched, then pulled his pajamas on, wiggling each arm in and then a leg, a foot and finally zipping him in.
"You know," Oliver said, "I think something happened and she didn't think she could face the consequences. I think she was in a place where she needed help, but for whatever reason she didn't or couldn't ask for it."
He picked up Mateo and carried him to the crib and laid him down. Oliver pulled a blanket over the child and turned on the mobile, which played a peaceful, happy tune.
"It was probably something that any of us would have had no problem asking for help with," Oliver said. "But for whatever reason it seemed like too much."
Anwyn nodded as she looked down at Mateo, the boy born mere hours after her sister died.
"That's a terrible thing," Oliver said as they both watched Mateo suck his thumb and fight to keep his eyes open. "When simply asking for help could have saved a life."
Posted by kevin at November 10, 2006 7:51 PM
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