Yesterday Part Three
by Leila Dayne
If you are just seeing this and haven’t read the previous two posts, you can read them here to catch up.
Here we go with Part Three:
Even though my life was spinning out of control like one of those little remote control helicopters, I kept up all necessary appearances. I was still the funny, hot-headed little girl I’d always been. Putting on Oscar worthy performances to hide the demons I was secretly battling. I was missing quite a bit of school and when I was there I was constantly sneaking off to the bathroom to get a fix or out to our cars with DC to smoke a joint and a cigarette before returning to class. (Our school had VERY strict rules on the no smoking on school property, but they had learned with us that it was easier to just look the other way and not say anything. It was better for us to break a rule than to completely skip school altogether.)
Mind you, we were only a few weeks into this new school year when all of this was happening. Looking back it seems like those days stretched for months, but I think it was just due to the lack of sleep that they all ran together. Even when you feel and act like you are in control it’s always the drugs that are.
Within the first few weeks of school I got kicked off the dance team and cheerleading squad for getting 4 days of out of school suspension. One day in my fucked up haze I managed to fall down a full flight of stairs during a pass period. Had it been any other time it might have gone unnoticed but with nearly 200 witnesses it was pretty hard to miss. Overcompensating I jumped up and created a MASSIVE scene. Honestly, I don’t remember much of it because I was so out of my mind. It all had to be pieced together for me by my friends. I just remember the police officer at our school coming to try to help me, which apparently freaked me out more and led to me going full on crazy chick. It was very apparent I was belligerently out of my head fucked up. Fortunately I was just suspended and he escorted me home.
Wanna guess how that worked out for me?
Not well would be the correct answer. I got 4 free days out of school and no longer had obligations to occupy my time. I dove head first into party mode, and went on a serious bender.
I had a part-time job at a retail store as part of my “work experience” course. It was a super easy job, and I spent most of my time doing coke in the back room with some of the other girls I worked with.
DC and I were doing great. Well as great as two drug addicted, love dependent teens can be. We began planning our spring break trip together, as we were super excited that it fell on the week of his birthday, April 7th. Everyone else was discussing Panama and Cancun, but we wanted to take a road trip somewhere together. So we could just listen to music and also because we could never take all the drugs we would need on an airplane. Truly it didn’t matter where we went, we were just ready to go anywhere away from the small suburban town we lived in. We finally just decided that the day of we would just hop in the car and take off and explore where ever the journey took us.
Time simultaneously flew by and crept at a snail’s pace at the same time. I have blank memories that span weeks of time. But one weekend will haunt me forever.
It was the third week of September. In the beginning it wasn’t any different from any other weekend. As soon as school was out on friday I came home and packed up my bags and headed out for the weekend. I had to work the opening shift at the store on Sunday so I knew I needed to get all my partying in that night. DC and I went to a house party that night with the whole “crew”. For living in a very close-knit suburban community I really don’t know how more of our parties didn’t get raided by the cops. I guess it was just a different era. I took mushrooms for the first time that night, and DC was on his new drug of choice, acid. We sat on a couch, as the party raged on around us, and listened to Pink Floyd on a shared headset for 5 hours while we watched the grass in a painting continue to die and then regrow. It was terrifying and amazing at the same time. Once we got off the couch we headed outside to explore. Our friends tracked us down miles away the next morning where we had fallen asleep in a field. We headed to DC’s to get cleaned up and sleep. At this point I was a regular fixture in his families household. We slept until nearly 9pm. When we woke up we decided to shun the multiple missed calls and texts about parties that night and head out to our favourite place. This rickety little bridge over a stream set off one of our back roads that was parallel to some train tracks. We loved being out there. The peaceful calm that would be violently interrupted by a train speeding past you only a few feet away. That bridge was our home away from home.
We sat our there drinking by ourselves until about midnight. I knew I had to be up at 5am to get to work. Not that I cared about my job, but I liked that even if I didn’t work everyday it allowed me to leave school early everyday. DC seemed a little off that night, but he’d been seeming different for a while. I just attributed it to either his or my paranoia from all the chemicals we were putting in our bodies. He drove me home, holding my hand and singing Desperado by The Eagles the entire way. As we pulled in my driveway I realized he was crying. Not sobbing or anything, but just slow quiet tears rolling down his face. He made no attempts to brush them away or hide them from me, we’d been through too much at that point.
We sat in my driveway and said our goodbyes. I was exhausted and knew the next day was going to be hell on me. I said my goodbyes and kissed him, leaning down to grab my bags and exit the car. He held tightly to my hand and pulled me back to him.
“Baby, you know I love you, right?”
“Of course, I know that. I love you too. But DC, it’s late and I really have to get going.”
“Not yet, I need you to really know, that no matter what happens, I love you. Forever.”
The intensity in his eyes burned through me. He had been intense before but this was on a different level. We were both drunk and exhausted so I just took this as an over emotional drunk moment. I smiled and told him that I knew he loved me. He leaned his head over and I could feel the dampness from his tear-stained cheeks on my shoulder.
“Just please, never forget that.”
I assured him that I wouldn’t and hoped out of the car. I told him I’d call him as soon as I got cleaned up and settled into bed.
Twenty minutes later I waited as the phone rang, he answered and I remember thinking it was unusual that it was quite loud in the background as I had thought he was heading home. He’d decided to go meet up with some of our friends at a party instead. This was nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that raised even the slightest alarm in me. I told him I loved him, to have fun and that I’d call him on my way to work in the morning. He reiterated yet again his statement about how much he loved me no matter what and that I should never forget that. Then we hung up.
The thing about being a partier, is your phone goes off non stop on the weekends. After setting my alarm, I turned my phone on silent so I wouldn’t be awoken every ten minutes throughout the night.
It was September 21st when I woke up the next morning. I had the usual missed calls and voice mails. My drunk friends, the questions of where I was, and a couple very lovey drunk messages from DC pleading for me to answer and come back out to see him. I rushed to get ready for work and headed in. I tried calling DC a couple of times but figured with the way he sounded he was most likely passed out sleeping off his bender. I got to work, got the store opened and went about my usual day. I hadn’t been there long and I remember heading to the back to check my phone (as we were not allowed to have them on the retail floor with us.) I remember pulling my phone out of my bag and it feeling hot. I flipped it open to reveal a ridiculous amount of missed activity. Over 100 missed calls, nearly the same amount of text messages and 50 some voice mails. Before I could even attend to them the phone began to ring again. It was one of the staple members of the “crew”, Rabbit.
“HEY! Whats up?!” I answered cheerfully.
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?! WHY HAVEN’T YOU BEEN ANSWERING YOUR PHONE?!?!” He screamed. (Mind you this was before Facebook had taken off and people were constantly checked in places.)
“WHOA DUDE!! Chill out!! I’m at work! What the fuck!?”
“Where’s DC?!? Is he with you?!?! He was insanely fucked up last night and acting all crazy. He said something about needing you to meet back up with him and was just out of his mind. Then he just took off, and no ones heard from him since!!”
My knees went weak and I began getting tunnel vision. This wasn’t good. DC never got out of control like that and he NEVER went off the radar. EVER. I told Rabbit I’d figure it out and got off the phone. My eyes were already welling with tears, I could just imagine him pinned in the mangled mess of a car wreck…overdosed somewhere. But maybe somewhere in my heart I already knew what had happened. I grabbed my bags and flew out of work. Yelling over my shoulder about an emergency and sprinting out. Tears blinding my sight, I frantically began dialing everyone I could think of as I jumped in my car and raced back to town. Every call was turning up dead leads. I was speeding through the roads in a blind frenzy, blowing through traffic lights and hardly seeing anything that was going on around me. It’s a miracle I didn’t get in a wreck or get pulled over, I’m sure I looked like a maniac drunk in a high-speed chase. I knew in my heart where DC was. It sent chills through my body; I knew he would be at our bridge. I called an EMT friend of mine who happened to be on duty at the time. I was on the Fuck Everything tip at this point.
“Hey! It’s me. I think DC in some trouble, I can’t get ahold of him. You know the old wooden bridge by the train tracks? I think he’s there and he may have overdosed. Can you meet me there? I’m not far away!”
“Yeah, it’s no problem. We’re slow right now anyways. I’ll head over there.”
That call ended up being the only saving grace of my sanity looking back.
As I sped down the road to the bridge I could see DC’s car, parked off to the side in the usual place. It looked normal, thank God. Hopefully he was just passed out inside. I skidded to a stop at nearly the same time the EMT’s pulled up. I jumped out of my car with the engine still running, nearly forgetting to throw it in park. My friend hopped out too. I ran full speed to the car. In my haste and the sound of the gravel crunching under my feet I barely heard my friend say, “Oh Fucking Shit!” I was too busy to pay attention to him. I flung the driver’s side door open, as my heart deflated in seeing an empty car. As I turned on my heels my friend caught me in his arms.
“NO NO NO!! FUCK!! DON’T LOOK OVER THERE!!”
But it was too late, even though he had a hold of me I could see over his shoulder; To see the slumped body on the bridge, surrounded in blood.
The world stopped. Everything was silent and in slow motion. Hazed with tears. My friend was holding me and trying to turn me away from the horror that lay ahead of me. He stumbled and unable to hold my convulsing body lost his grip. In the haze I remember hitting the gravel…on my left side of my body, my left cheek being the last to hit. And I just laid there. Sobbing on the gravel. My skin and cheek bleeding from the gravel puncturing me but unable to feel it, only able to wail and cry and scream.
The next few hours were a blur of emotions and cops, phone calls and trying to piece together a puzzle. I spent that time laying in the back of the Medic bus my friend had originally drove there, handing over my phone to the cops and telling them which names in my contacts where his family.
I was shown the note he left. A crumpled, tear mottled 2 page letter was all that was left from DC. The handwriting so scribbled and nearly illegible. The first page was for his family, the second one for me. He apologized for what he was doing, but he had felt that his life was ruined and beyond repair. But he wanted me to know, that he would always love me.
No Matter What.
All My Love,