Capote-ish story.

I remember the first time I came up close and personal with death. I was eight years old and my mother's boyfriend at the time had decided to kill himself in the bathtub. It should have been a scary and traumatizing experience and I'm sure deep down somewhere it was, but I was probably more relieved than anything. Seeing his body lying there in the bath tub, bloody and lifeless signified an end to the roller coaster ride we had been in since my parents broke up. I didn't know much about Lawrence when he moved in with my mother and I. It wasn't a complete shock when my parents broke up. They had been having problems for a while when my father abruptly moved out. Lawrence moved in shortly after and life resumed as it always had. Only it didn't because they fought a lot too. Lawrence was light skin and good looking. I was six so I don't recall exactly what my mother might have seen in him. Except for the fact that he was light skinned and good looking I can't imagine much else. My mother recalls him having horrible eating habits, especially while in public. Finger licking, mouth smacking, and bites of food inteected with bits of conversation were a mainstay at meals with Lawrence. It seemed nothing had changed except for the faces of the men. Eventually we got evicted from our apartment on the 18^th floor and had to move to a much smaller, not nearly as nice, two bedroom in the heart of Cleveland.

Lawrence lost his job shortly after that, or maybe before we moved. Which would actually explain the reason for the move. Things were tense in the house and arguing became an everyday occurrence once again. One day my mother picked me up after school and I asked her to take me to Revco, a drug store to buy something. I had ten dollars that was burning a hole in my pocket. After scanning the shelves for close to 15 minutes, I bought a little red dictionary and we headed home. She went straight to the bathroom and I made a beeline for the refrigerator. I wanted an oatmeal crème pie. Just as I was opening the package my mother began screaming for me to bring her the phone. I didn't understand the weight of her screaming until I finally brought her the phone. She was sitting on the toilet and he was lying in the bathtub. The water was red and his skin looked paler than ever laying in it. I went outside to sit on the steps, because I guess that's just what you do when your mother's boyfriend cuts open his wrists in your bathtub. When the ambulance came I was still sitting on the stairs with my head hanging down. The blonde EMT looked at me like he was at a lost for words and said, “Everything's going to be okay.”