The Suicide Email - Fiction

After a long day of work in the E.R. I got home and microwaved a dinner of leftover spaghetti. I showered and changed into pajamas and sat down at my computer to check emails.  Gas bill, electric bill, an emailed note from my best friend.  A paper folding project she wanted to try.  I deleted a lot of junk emails.  I stopped at one that I didn't recognize.  mad4u1549@hotmail.com.  I suspected spam but the title caught my attention.  "I'm Sorry, This is Goodbye."

I've never had the courage to tell you how I feel about you.  I guess it seems kind of pointless, but I can't leave this world without you knowing.  I've always loved you. We were screwed from the beginning.  We were supposed to be together.  Everyone made a point of tearing us apart.  My family never liked you.  So I tried to bury it.  Then I was married.  I tried to bury it.  Then you were married.  I kept trying to bury it.  Years have passed and yet each goes by at a tortured pace. It's just not possible to continue on.  It hurts too much.

Love,

Mark

I felt a chill as I read the words.  I used to know a Mark.  We don't talk anymore.  It's been probably eight years since we last spoke.  We rarely speak because whenever we do, it usually ends badly.  We argue, or offend each other somehow.  It just is better not to go there.

This letter has brought the memories back.  The ones I try to bury.  There were good memories early on in our friendship, before he became cold and distant.  I endured a year of being iced out.  I watched him pursuing other women and being rejected by other women.  It would only be a matter of time before someone said yes.  I said "no" to more pain and left.

He got married.  I got married.  It's the same story.  We saw each other a handful of times over the years, and each time brought not but painful memories.  Everything blends together now and I can't tell if the pain is from unrequited love or if the pain is from being emotionally abused.  I try not to think about it anymore.  I haven't for years.  This letter comes as a punch to an old scar.  People heal but never fully.  Some residual memory of the injury remains.

My head hurts from worry.  I pinch the bridge of my nose.  What to do?  My husband is under headphones playing the latest video game.  I could tell him about the email, but he'd just worry.  I don't even know if this email is something to worry about.  I take my cell phone in the bathroom and call her.  The wife of Mark.  Satan, the one I try to forget.

"Hello?"  I can tell she was asleep, or nearly so.  "Who is this?"

"This is Sam.  How are you doing?"

"Sam... Sam....Sam!"  The pieces come together.  "I'm doing good.  I was getting ready to go to sleep.  It's kind of late.  What's up?"

"Where's Mark?  I need to talk to him."

"He's in the shower.  Why do you want to talk to him?"

"How long has he been in there?"

"I don't know, I was asleep.  Why? What's going on?"

"Go check on him!  Now!"

That got her moving.  I heard her knock on the bathroom door.  A moment later she returned.  "He's fine.  He just finished his shower.  What the hell is going on?"

"Put him on the phone."

"I don't like it when you talk to him.  It usually makes him upset."

"Just put him on the phone!"

She must have decided not to argue because a moment later a man said "Hello?" in a rather puzzled tone of voice.

"Mark, go in the bathroom and shut the door."

"Why?"

"Just do it.  Now!"

Mark closed the bathroom door.  "Turn on the fan."  He turned on the fan.

"Sam what the hell is this about?"  he spoke loudly.

"Did you send me an email today?"  

"No... I haven't spoken to you in years, why would I send you an email?"

"Stop jerking me around, Mark.  If you sent that email as a prank, I'm going to kill you.  It's really not funny."

"I didn't send you any email."  he laughed.  I didn't believe him, but he wasn't budging.  "What did this email from me say?"

"You sent me your suicide note."

He went quiet then.  "It wasn't me.  Must have been someone else who sent it to the wrong email address."  

"Are you lying to me?"

"No!"  he yelled.  "Now we need to get off the phone before my wife thinks you're sending naked pictures of you to me in the bathroom."

"Put her back on the phone."

"What?"

"I said, put her back on the phone.  I want to talk to her."

A minute later she said, "Hello?"

"Hey, I think you should keep an eye on him.  Don't leave him alone for long periods of time."

"Why?  What aren't you telling me?"

"I got to go, I'll see ya later."

I hung up and clutched the throw that I'd put over my lap.  I could feel burning pain between my shoulder blades from the tension that had stemmed from that phone call.  This is why I don't speak to them often.  All sorts of negative energy starts flowing and pretty soon I'm crying.  Wait, I am crying.  

My husband will wonder why.  I can't tell him the truth.  I don't know why I can't but I think it must have something to do with the creeping sense of embarrassment that is coming over me.  Maybe this was just a random email from someone directed to the wrong person.  Maybe it didn't even come from the Mark I know.  I'd just made a huge deal about it.  They'd all be thinking I was back to obsessing.  Maybe they'd think I was stalking him.  Just another crazy girl inventing clever ways to get back into the life of the guy who didn't want her.  

I just wanted to forget that it ever happened.  I went into the bathroom and washed my face, several times.  I used cold water until I could barely tell I'd been crying.  It wouldn't matter in the darkness of our bedroom.  Everything would be better in the morning.  It always is.  I'd forget all about it.  Tomorrow would be shiny and new.