Sam Paul - Why I Committed Suicide

So, Dirk and Natalya just happened to be there at the same time we had planned to be there and maybe more social interaction was called for on our part, but they certainly didn’t act like they cared about anything we had to say. In fact they kept going out of the room to talk to each other in private and after they had a few beers in the evening some of their jokes maliciously leaned towards making fun of us and them acting superior about some of the friendly letters I had written to them after their marriage. I was unabashedly polite and stepped lively trying not to intrude or violate their space but I could tell something was going on.

The next evening, we all sat down for a late lunch and they nervously told us some bullshit story about how some friends of theirs were arriving the next day and how we would have to leave. Excuse me?! I called James ahead of time and he talked to his parents to verify our presence would be okay. Then all of a sudden out of the blue we have to go because his older brother decided it was his prerogative? Our car is in the shop, which they are clearly fucking aware of, and this was OUR intended destination and now YOU want to strand us in an unfamiliar town under the pretense of politeness? Well fuck that! I even volunteered to sleep in the basement or the garage if running out of bedrooms was their excuse, it seemed like an uncomfortable but reasonable compromise to me. It turns out they would have enough empty bedrooms for their “friends” even with us there; they just wanted us out of town. They went out of their way to make us feel as if we would be too much of an embarrassment to have around these “friends”. Oh Dirk, you little fucking man, I’m hurt. I always credited you with being better than that, the one adult I related to, and now that my hero worship is dashed, I feel violated. I feel angry to see you treat Jenifer this way. You little fucking man.

Dirk and Natalya diplomatically said we could be driven back to Creede after lunch or early the next morning. Since it gets into the 20’s here at night I immediately responded we would definitely go first thing in the morning, reminding them we don’t have anyplace to stay and that we can’t even get into our own car for camping gear since it’s in the shop. Then they had the audacity to say they would rather drop us off after lunch. Well why the fuck did you even pretend to give us an option you cocksucking bastards?!

I can only hope that the drive into Creede was uncomfortable for them. We piled into their yuppie-wagon and refused to speak to them during the wholehour or so it took to get there. Jenifer was openly fuming at how disgracefully rude and contemptuous they had treated us the whole time we visited and I would have sliced open their plush leather back seats with a knife if I’d had one. My stomach was roiling as if I’d just eaten several teaspoons of salt. Fortunately after their few pathetic attempts to justify abandoning us in the middle of nowhere, they finally shut the fuck up and I could sit quietly and dwell on how humiliating it felt to be driven out of town by the smiling backstabber who shattered the embodiment of everything good I’ve wanted to emulate ever since my youth. It was pathetically weak of them and neither one of us could stand to be around them anymore after seeing their true colors. After Dirk and Natalya let us out of the car they turned it around and drove back by us giving a friendly wave like everything was just peachy with the world. So I pretended as if I was the idiot they thought I was and I smiled and waved back at them until they had both turned to look at me waving and then I shot them the bird. Get the FUCK out of here you two-faced assholes!

Oh, we cursed them. We cursed any ass-kissing benefit to their careers or lives that might come about this week at our expense. We cursed their marriage, friends and future children. They now have a blackness that will forever follow them through life. Gaining without honor is akin to selling your soul. To gain by stepping on family, even extended family, is worse. Even though the first funeral I ever attended was for Pop, the grandfather that Dirk was originally named for, where I was allowed to sit up in front with the family in his absence, the devastation finally sank in and I realized that no matter how much I might wish or want or pretend or even love the Pattersons as my own family, I will never be a part of them. That’s what hurt more than anything else.

After that whole experience, we sort of stumbled around town for a while in shock. We checked the progress on our car and found out it would be a few more days before it was finished since the parts hadn’t even come in yet, then we ate some dinner at a local greasy spoon where we ran into the Sheriff again. We were pretty embarrassed to have to explain why we were back in his town so soon and wandering around like homeless people but he helped point us to this nice little bed and breakfast that Jen melted some parental plastic on. We should send Dirk the bill. The Sheriff also said if the opportunity ever arose he would pull Dirk and Natalya over and give them a ticket for us. Now THAT’S a great guy.

The owner of the B&B has been great to us too; she gave us college discounts without even asking if we were in college, despite her house being empty of visitors at the moment, and she helped us make plans to go out hiking into the wilds tomorrow. The extra bed and breakfast expense is justified because it’s a band-aidfor our fragile psyches, the place is very old school and romantic, which is what our trips are always about anyway. So I guess it all worked out for the best. I learned a painful lesson about childhood “heroes” and God brought us into contact with some truly kind people. Of course we’ll be leaving this small facet of civilization behind tomorrow for a day or three, just as we’ve already left our former host’s bullshit behind, and hopefully the icy darkness stabbed into our hearts will become swallowed among the majesty (there’s that word again) of the Rockies and we’ll learn to forgive. Even if the mountains don’t.

21 Then Peter came to Him and said, “Lord, how many times could my brother sin against me and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” 22 “I tell you, not as many as seven,” Jesus said to him, “but 70 times seven” —Matthew 18:21-22

Once again we are back at the wonderful little bed and breakfast tucked into the heart of Creede. After roughing it for the past two days, Jenifer felt the need for more pampering and despite my worries about spending too much money I couldn’t find it in me to argue too much.

The day after our unappetizing reality check we set out to gather supplies and hiked a long winding trail that led up into the mountains surrounding the town. We bought water, trail mix and several other necessities like hot dogs, marshmal-lows, bread and rice. I also stole a roll of film for my camera. Jenifer got upset that I stole from a small town store saying how she would rather not have pictures if we have to steal them, but I couldn’t justify the hyper inflated price of $15 for one roll of 35mm film and I wanted to take some damn pictures. There was a brief harrowing moment halfway out of town when she realized her raggedy brown wallet with her money and credit card (which we need for the car!) was missing and I must admit I panicked and probably acted like an asshole (again). I had vivid visions of trying to get the car from the mechanic with no way to pay for any of it and then begging Dirk and Natalya to help us while they laughed and kicked me in the teeth with their steel-toed nazi boots. Memories of her losing her money in Mexico helped compound my growing sense of dread as we walked back into town, but when we returned to the store they had held her wallet there for her. I was relieved but then felt extra guilty about hooking the film from them. I’M SORRY I STOLE A ROLL OF FILM ALRIGHT! Damn I hate moral reminders sometimes.