A Woman Gone Mad (34 page)

It only takes one phone call that night and an hour after I wake up for a knock to sound on the door. Stumbling my way to open the door, I make the switch—cash for a gram of coke.

Sitting at the vanity, I cut the coke into lines, pour out the rest of Xanax and Klonopin, and set those to the side. I put my makeup on perfectly. Then I curl my long, thin hair and pin it up as if I were going to one of the fancy parties Nick always took me too. I inhale a couple of rails, brush and floss my teeth, and then sit on the edge of the tub to shave from my legs to my armpits.

I slip on the warm heather gray cashmere robe Leo bought me for Christmas last year. I then drain the tub only to refill it and pour my favorite bath oils, the same kind they had at the hotel suite I shared with Nick. I smile as memories begin flooding me.

I set the razor blade on the side of the tub before I go and slip into my cream Versace Chantilly lace night gown. I double-check my hair and makeup and add some red lipstick before I chase more than fifty pills down with my bottle of Jack.

I sit on the side of the bed, take a deep breath, and calm my nerves. Then I make three phone calls but don’t speak. I listen to my mom and dad in Florida as they trade the phone back and forth, trying to get the person to answer their hellos until they get tired of no one responding and hang up. Then I call Nick, and when Bella answers, my heart seizes and tears begin to fall. Then I listen to Nick’s gruff, “Hello? Who is it?” for almost 5 minutes until he, too, tires and hangs up.

Lastly, I call my Leo. “Hello?” The sound of his voice has my hand flying to cover my mouth to muffle my sobs. “Lil, where are you?” Hot tears stream rivulets down my face, but I keep myself from making a sound. “Baby?” His voice is cracking and I hear the tears from his soul as he whispers through the phone. “Baby, please just tell me where you are. I’m coming. I love you too much. Please don’t do this to me. I can’t lose you…”

I hang up the phone at Lilith’s insistence.

“I told you not to call anyone. You’re begging for trouble by doing that shit. I swear to God, if he fucks this up, I’ll never let you hear the end of it, Lillian.”

Shut the fuck up, Lilith. No one’s coming. No one cares. You’ve made that pretty fucking clear.

I dry my face and find myself thankful yet again for waterproof mascara when I see that my reflection looks exactly the same as before I made my calls. The pills are beginning to make my body heavy. My eyelids are fluttering shut and I know it’s time.

I sink into the bathtub with my beautiful gown still on and grab the razor blade. Sighing, I lay my head back and I pray:

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation and deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever and ever. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.

The blade doesn’t hurt as I slide it six inches down and three inches across each wrist. The warm water stings it a bit as my weak arms splash into the water, but that’s all I feel in the way of pain.

As I watch the clear water and my candlelight-colored gown turn red, the memories, all of them, flood my mind and seep into my battered and blackened soul. I remember Michael’s hazel eyes that first day in the eighth grade, the way he kept me tucked into him as we walked down the hall. I remember meeting Leo and talking to him for the first time over a pack of Marlboro Light 100’s. I remember us laughing and swimming in the pond that summer so many years ago. I remember Nick pushing me on the swing. I remember the way he would look at me and make me feel like the only person in the room among hundreds. I remember my mom, dad, and Allen on my wedding day to Nick. I remember Allen goofing around, trying to calm my fears about walking down the aisle. And I remember Bella… The first time she cried and I fell in love with her that instant.

A sob bounces off the bathroom walls as my heart shatters and then I feel it begin to slow. I remember singing in the car on the way to school with Allen. I remember Allen always being there, no matter what.

I remember seeing Leo again for the first time in twenty years and knowing that no matter what happened I would only ever truly love him with all my heart, even after death. I remember how beautiful baby Leo was, how after the nurses handed him to me and left to give us time. I tried to lie to myself and pretend he was just asleep while I counted his toes and his perfect little fingers. I remember kissing his perfectly red bow lips that looked so much like Leo’s. Lips that I had an ultrasound picture of smiling. I remembered the heartache I felt when I realized that was all I’d ever have—a picture of his smile.

And then I don’t remember anything at all…

“I
don’t give a mother fuck, you God damn prick! Tell me what fucking room she checked into before I blow your God damn head off!” My heart is fucking pounding like a drum in my chest. I swear to fuck, if this asshole doesn’t tell me what room my Lil is in, I’ll fucking pull the nine out from behind my back and start getting motherfucking answers.

“Sir, I won’t take any threats from you. Do I need to call security?”

I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna fucking kill him.

Through gritted teeth, spit flies from my mouth and lands on the prick’s face. “She called! It. Was. A. Call. For. Help! She’s going to fucking kill herself, you piece of shit.” My hand tightens around the butt of the gun. “Tell me what fucking room she’s in!”

The lady huddled in the corner mouths, “603.” I barrel though the stairwell doors to the right of the check-in counter, hearing Pussy Boy holler some shit after me, but I couldn’t give a fuck. I take the stairs two and three at a time, my pace never slowing once. “Please, Lil. Please, baby, be okay.” My chest is cracking open like an ax is splitting it in two. When I make it to the sixth floor, my tears make my vision blurry, and it’s hard to make out the numbers.

Scrubbing my hand down my face to wipe them away, I’m stopped in my tracks by the numbers 603. I start beating the fuck out of the door.

“Lil! Lil, baby. Open the fucking door. Open the God damn door, baby! Please!” The elevator door pings and then I see security and Pussy Boy come out. Well, there goes me not breaking shit.

My boot comes up, smashing against the door once, twice, before the door falls off the hinges. At the same time, I go barging into the room. Immediately I smell her, her perfume—just her. I see coke and JD bottles everywhere as I tear through the suite and into the bedroom, only to die inside when I finally get to her in the tub. She’s lying in a bathtub full of bloody water, her skin so pale and white that it’s transparent.

As I pull her out, I’m screaming, “Fucking call 911!” I cradle her against my chest, brushing her hair away from her pale face. “Baby? Baby? Fuck, what did you do? Why, Lil? You know I can’t fucking live without you! Why did you do this?”

After I have her wrists bound in towels to slow the bleeding, I carry her to the bedroom and rock her back and forth, cradled to me while I run my fingers through her hair, humming ‘Black Balloon’ by Goo Goo Dolls. It’s always been my song for her, my sad little firecracker.

This is all my fault. I know it fucking is. I shouldn’t have left her at home that Valentine’s night. I shouldn’t have shut her out after that night. God, I fuck up everything! I always fucking have. I just hoped and prayed I wouldn’t ever fuck up with Lil, but I did. It’s very fucking obvious now that I did.

I know I look like a pussy by crying into Lil’s hair and rocking her wet, blood-soaked body on the floor of the suite when the paramedics come in, but I don’t give a fuck. She isn’t breathing anymore and I can’t find her pulse. “Please, baby. Fucking please don’t leave me.”

“Sir, I need you to lay her on this stretcher.” One of the paramedics has a gurney draped in a white sheet.

“Can I go with her? Can’t I just hold her?”

“Sir, the faster we get her in the ambulance, the faster we can get her stable, and she needs that now. Right now.”

I don’t realize until I see his eyes flick down to my fist that I have Lil wrapped up and the gun is the cold metal I feel in my grasp. That’s why this guy looks ready to piss his pants.
Fuck.

“Yeah, sorry, man.” I set the gun aside, carry my wife’s light and lifeless body to the stretcher, and lay her down as sobs and tears escape me and land right there in front of God and every other motherfucker in this room.

People swarm her. Someone’s pushing on her chest and they have a mask on her face, breathing for her, and it’s at this moment that it hits me. I’ve lost her. She fucking needed me and I let her down, just like I knew I would. Just like her dad said I would. He’s right. I’m not a good enough man for her—I never was.

No matter how much I fucking tried.

I’ve been in the ER waiting area for I don’t know how fucking long when a doctor comes out of the double doors, his white coat flapping behind him with the whoosh of the doors closing.

“Mr. Phillips? Leo Phillips?” I stand and clear my throat and then feel the ground underneath me tilt. I sit the fuck back down.

“Yes, sir. That’s me.” The doc sits down beside me. Here it is. Here it fucking is. I’ve lost her forever this time.

“Sir, your wife consumed copious amounts of sedatives as well as large quantities of cocaine before she attempted suicide in probably the most effective way one could attempt suicide. And quite honestly, sir, I’m surprised she’s still alive.”

She’s still alive…

The doc clears his throat and my eyes come back up to his. “She’s looking at a long road not only to physical health but to mental and emotional health as well. And, Mr. Phillips, that goes for you both. I’m sorry, but someone with the mental history as extensive as your wife’s is going to require a group effort, including all family members. If she doesn’t receive this effort, she will attempt suicide again, and I’m afraid she’ll be successful next time.

“Yes, sir. I fuckin’ hear you, Doc. Loud and clear.” Clearing my throat, I stand up and shake his hand. My grip gets tight as shit around his hand. As I look this man dead in the eye, I feel my soul begging him for a “Yes.” “Doc, can I see her? Is she… Does she know where she’s at?”

“Yes, sure you can see her. Follow me.” As we walk through the double doors and down hallways, he continues in a low voice, “No, sir, she hasn’t responded to physical stimuli. However, with the amount of drugs in her system and the amount of blood loss, that is to be expected.” He knocks on a door before slowly sliding it open. “She’s right through there. Let the nurse or me know if you need anything, okay, Leo?”

“Yeah.” The tears choke me and I cough and try to brush them off my face. “Yeah, yes, sir, Doc. Thanks so much.”

“Son.” Well shoot a fucking spear through me while I’m down, why don’t ya, old man! Fuck! No one has ever called me son a day in my fucking life. Not with concern and kindness in their voice. “I don’t know what happened or when it did happen, but she needs you now more than ever. And you more than anyone else. It’s time you step up to the plate, son. Face what put her here and help her get back to where you two were before it happened. You understand?”

“More than you know, Doc. More than you know.” We shake hands again while my insides twist at how dead on this fucking guy is. I don’t know how the hell he just nailed it but he did. And he said exactly what the fuck I needed to hear. “Thanks, Doc. I owe you my life. Thank you.”

“Thank me by making sure she never winds up in my ER like this again.” He turns and leaves me with my Lil.

When I come around the door and see my tiny little firecracker looking no more than a bump in that hospital bed, I fall to my knees beside her and grab the hand that doesn’t have blood being infused into through an IV. Then I pray to God.

I pray for strength. I pray for patience. I pray for courage and happiness again for my wife. I pray, begging God for her to open her eyes.

I’d do anything to see my baby’s blue eyes again. “Baby.” It comes out so harsh and coarse I wince inside. “Baby, please wake up. I gotta see your eyes. I gotta know you’re alive. These fuckin’ machines beepin’ don’t mean shit to me, baby. Fuckin’ please. Please open your eyes.”