TRILOGY

TRILOGY

CARICATURE #010

Drawn 1989-05-29-145

I.            BANG! The boy slumped forward on the table, his eyes glazed into nothingness, the life and the spirit made its way out of the body. The gun had ripped a hole in the side of his head the size of a grapefruit. Tiny rivulets of spittle made their way out of the corner of his mouth. The physical pain lasted but a mili-second, but it ended his mental torture. His left arm jerked once, and was still. Timothy was dead: Monday morning.

      I didn't know Timothy, although we both worked at Sears in the summer of 1983. He worked in the Hardware department, while I worked in the Carpet Department. He came from a nice family, had already entered college and was popular with the girls. It saddened me that one so young would want to end his life so tragically. I hurt for him. I pondered the why of it all. He had everything going for him. No one believed he had been a candidate for suicide.

II.        BANG! She slumped forward on the table, her eyes glazed into nothingness, the life and the spirit made its way out of the body. The gun had ripped a hole in the side of her head the size of a grapefruit. Tiny rivulets of spittle made their way out of the corner of her mouth. The physical pain lasted but a milli-second, but it ended her mental torture. Her left arm jerked once, and was still. Gladys was dead: Wednesday at noon.

      She was a quiet lady in her '60's. She never complained. She just did her job in Sears Housewares. Because of her nature of giving, everyone at work and at home took advantage of her, getting her to do their work. She did it all without complaining.

      She took in orphans and did all the things that no one else would do. At home and at work, people used her. Her suicide rocked Sears. Slowly, as the elements of her death leaked out, we all began to realize that she was a prime candidate for self destruction.

      I knew her, and I hurt for her. Her death jolted me, and I promised myself that I would not allow anything like this to happen to anyone else I knew.

III.    BANG! She slumped forward on the table, her eyes glazed into nothingness, the life and the spirit made its way out of the body. The gun had ripped a hole in her head the size of a grapefruit. Tiny rivulets of spittle made their way out of the corner of her mouth. The physical pain lasted but a mili-second, but it ended her mental torture. Her left arm jerked once, and was still. Karen was dead: Friday morning.

*****   *****   *****   *****  

      “I've got to talk to you Larry,” Karen said pleadingly, on Monday afternoon. We had just gotten the news about Timothy.

      I'd been eager to hear what she had to say. We'd been friends for almost five years. We had both worked in Automotive. Today was her first day, being rehired to work in the sewing machine department. I worked across the aisle in carpets.

      “Sure, Karen,” I said. “What's up.”

      “Will you talk to me”?

      “Sure, Anytime”, I said.

      “Promise me you’ll talk to me”.

      “Whenever you say, Karen. You want to talk now”?

      “I can't talk here. We've got to go somewhere private. I'll let you know when.”

      The next morning I asked Karen what had happened to her since she had left Sears. “I wanted to marry money”, she said. “I found an older man that was richer than anything I'd ever dreamed. I married him.”

      It seemed so simple. She said she would let me know when she could talk more.

      We heard the news about Gladys on Wednesday. “I've got to talk to you Larry, I’ve just got to”, she said again later that day. That made two that had committed suicide at the same Sears store. It was ominous, creepy. Two people I had known had decided to commit suicide in the same week.

      “Sure, Karen. You can talk to me anytime you want.” Was it desperation in her voice, or the pain we all felt for Gladys?

      “It's got to be in private”, she said. My husband is insanely jealous of me and he won’t let me out of the house even to buy groceries, clothes or anything. Larry, if I don't get out of there, I'll die.”

      Her tone of voice bothered me, but I didn't know how serious it was. “When do you want to get together?” I asked.

      “I don't know," she said, “but it has to be soon. He doesn't even know I have this job. If he knew it, he'd beat me.”

      “He wouldn't do that, would he?”

      “He beats me all the time. Larry, you've got to help me. You're the only one I can trust. If he thinks I'm even looking at another man, he beats me. I can't get out of the house. You've got to help me figure a way out.”

      I could see the seriousness of the situation, but I didn’t know exactly how serious. “What about tomorrow at lunch?” I suggested.

      “I can't do it then,” she said, then added “But Friday. We'll get together Friday. I just hope he doesn't find out I have this job. He'll never let me come back. I'll go crazy if I have to stay in that house. Please don't forget, Larry. Please. I have to find a way out.”

      I already knew I would do whatever it took to help her. She had a history of exaggeration, so I didn't know how much was true and how much was exaggeration. Anxiously I waited.....

      Friday she didn't show up for work. I thought she might be sick or at the worst her husband found out about her job and made her quit. It was about three O’clock in the afternoon we heard the news about Karen. She had found a way out. . .

      She was not quite twenty three years old. So young, so pretty, So . . . dead. She was my friend, and I loved her. I wanted to throw up.

      The grapevine said her husband had indeed found out that she had a job. Thursday night he had beat her. Friday morning she had found her husband’s gun. Within minutes she used it on herself.

      I had to get away from Sears. Three people, all worked at the same Sears store committing suicide within the same week. It wasn't Sears' fault. I felt had failed every one of them. There should have been something I could do to help one of them. Karen had turned to me for help, and I had failed her. What if I'd called information and gotten her number? What if. . .?

      I thought of the victims. Timothy, the youngest, one kind word might have stemmed the tide; Gladys, the oldest, just one more smile might have been enough. What if I had spoken to timothy? What if I had just smiled at Gladys one more time? Then there was Karen, my friend. She had even reached out to me.

      Within ninety days I had quit Sears. The lost opportunities to help even one of them were too much for me. I might not have prevented anything, but that week will haunt me forever.

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        the wordmaster says:

  ŸThis taught me about the urgency of the gospel of Christ. 

        Lark says:

      ŸWhat a moving story, Larry, but sorry as I am about the three victims I feel even sorrier that you should have carried these sad events on your conscience for such a long time! I'm not recommending you to forget them - why should you? They were valid and valuable people, worthy of remembrance. But they chose to die! You may or may not have been able to temporarily turn back the negative tide with a kind word, a follow-up call or whatever. 

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      Ÿ....But I got sidetracked. I was going to express my opinion that the three deaths might be better described in three varying ways instead of using more or less the same word pattern to cover all of them .(size of the hole in the head, for instance.) The people would stand out more as individuals; otherwise, your repetition of process makes the situation sound more like ritual murders than a spate of suicides. Well, maybe you had your reasons for the formulaic similarity of their demise. I just think it may add more to give them “individual” deaths. 

        bh_walker says

      ŸIncredible story, and your portrayal is emotional, moving, and heartbreaking. I am sorry to hear these events, but your story drew me in and captivated me. I agree with Lark in sympathy for your having to carry this burden - but also agree that it is not your fault. You had no way to know. But that is for you to work out.

      ŸI did like the parallelism and repetition, and I thought it was an artful way to portray all three deaths as an introduction. Then you moved into the main story, chronologically moving through the events as you saw them. The style created tension and pulled me into reading more. The deaths used as an introduction/prologue was powerful and gripping: they portrayed conflict, created tension, and set the chronology of the story as irregular (a good technique).

      ŸAlthough this is an emotional biography, your writing style shines through in an original style (different from usual biographical work). Thank you for sharing this. 

        notthejones says:

      ŸI agree with bh_walker completely, only I am not able to communicate as well as that . I also agree Lark in being sorry you experienced a time like this. Suicide always leaves such a bruise in the lives left behind. 

      Linn Ann says:    

      ŸI liked this piece and it was very moving, but the repetition made me skim to the next part that was different. I think stating them differently would have held me better, and made each person an individual more. 

      the wordmaster says:

      ŸIn truth, they did not all use a gun to the head. They used different methods.  I used the same scenario for dramatic effect. They all affected me the same way, with each one I felt the pain a little worse. With Karen, it was overwhelming. 

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