Chasing Nirvana

One

Jimmy first attempted suicide on a Sunday in February. I got the call from Scooter on the drive home from church.

"It's me," he had said calmly as though his voice itself was self introductory. "You need to come to Piedmont, she's cut her wrist."

I took the next U-turn and rushed down to the hospital. He was already there, sitting in a grey plastic chair with a cup in his right hand.

"What happened?" I asked. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"The same reason why other people do these things," he said. He took a sidelong glance at me, and then shook his head. "This is the first time someone close to you has depression, isn't it?"

When I didn't answer, he sighed and leant back against the deathly white walls of the hospital before holding out the cup in his hand. "Coffee? It might warm you a little."

I took a sip and almost spit it back out. I hated it. I've hated the taste of coffee ever since. "What's in it?"

"Coffee," he smiled. "And maybe a few shot of vodka."

"That's disgusting."

"To each his own, young man, to each his own."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know," he said. "You never know with someone who has done these kinds of things."

"What happened?" I asked again, this time to myself. Did I do something wrong? Had I said something wrong? Should I have gone to see at night her after I sent her home yesterday? Why didn't she call me?

"Stop thinking," Scooter said. "Come on, walk with me."

He led me out of the hospital building and out to a park where a few people were strolling by. The skies were grey and heavy with pregnant clouds, and cool wind blew at us from the south, leftovers from the winter.

"My brother committed suicide a few years before," he suddenly said as we sat down at the bench overlooking a pond full of ducks. Shouldn't they have migrated? Or was it only the geese? I don't know. Right now, I wasn't sure if I knew anything at all.

"I'm sorry," I said when I couldn't find something to say.

"If there was anything I learnt from that, it is that there never really was anything we could do for them." He paused as though he was letting his words sink in. "Listen to me, Nate. You're a good guy, but you don't understand people like Jimmy. Everything happens in their heads. Everything. They don't function the way we do. When they cry, tears flow from their eyes down to their hearts, and back into their heads. When they speak, it comes from their heart and goes back into their own ears. They think and re-think everything they've ever said and thought of and done. Mistakes get magnified, little words become scathing wounds, and everything become a source of suffering."

I nodded along with him but I wasn't listening, not really. Maybe I should have asked her out for lunch. Perhaps she was lonely. Why didn't she call me?

"We tried to keep him happy. We tried everything; most days of the week either me or his friends would be with him so that he's never lonely. He had a beautiful girlfriend. He had straight As in his classes. He was just everyone's perfect person. He kept smiling, and going to parties, and doing his work. We thought he was getting better but all this while, there was something ugly growing inside him..."

I glanced over at Scooter. His lips opened and closed but I could barely hear his words. Why was he talking about his brother, when it was Jimmy we should be worried about? Still, I let him continue until the skies opened up and large fat drops of rain began to fall. Then we went back inside and sat in silence by a poster warning people to use condoms.

***

Jimmy Jacobs and her mother moved into Milton the summer before I began my senior year, when the weather was hot and the people were bothered. I remembered the first time I saw her. It had been one of those uncomfortably sunny days in June. Taylor, my best friend number one, and I were driving over to Georgie's, who was my best friend number two, for lunch. As it happens, Georgie lived just a mere two blocks away from the old Fitzsimmons house, which was rented by the Jacobs at that time. As we sped down the street, I saw a figure lying spread eagle on the green lawn. White singlet flapping slightly in the hot breeze, eyes shut against the clear blue skies, she was making a good job of ignoring her mother's orders to get inside. Both Taylor and I craned our necks to get a better look until we were too far away and she became hidden behind rows of white picket fences.

"Damn," Taylor had said afterwards. "Who's the hot chick?"

"Probably part of the new family from San Francisco," I replied.

"City girl...double damn! Bet she's great at –," he made an obscene gesture. "Bet she'd even be much better than Ally Fisher! Did you see those tits?"

Ally Fisher was the hottest girl in our school. Actually, make that the hottest girl in our town. That was, of course, until Jimmy Jacobs came along.

 "She's probably better than Ally Fisher," I had agreed. "But you'd never know, would you?"

"Why not?"

"Because Ally Fisher would never have sex with you, and this girl probably wouldn't either."

"Please, I'm a total beast when it comes to girls!"

"Yeah, the kind that scares them away."

"Like a lion!"

"Not like a lion," I countered immediately. "More like a hyena. Or a mosquito. With braces."

"It's called a smart bracket. Also, it's not my fault that my malocclusions are more advanced than the rest of you guys."

"Are your malocclusions helping you get laid?"

"Malocclusion is the scientific term for improper bites which forces you to get braces. So, the answer would be no, they are not helping me get laid." After a brief pause, he sighed sourly. "Ally Fisher is never going to have sex with me, is she?"

"Probably not, my friend. Probably not."

"But maybe this girl will."

"Nope."

"Alright."

And that was really how our first conversation about Jimmy Jacobs went. As far as conversations go, it wasn't much, which just goes to show how stupid boys could be when it comes to girls.