As all great lovers do

Author's notes

A cautionary note to readers, my writing may leave you disturbed. While life does not give us trigger warnings, I will provide you with one today. I will write on suicide, on abuse and on mental illness. I will use real events and real people. However, I've fused personalities, timelines and events to provide some form of anonymity to the people from my memories. I knew these people as a child, so how I saw the world as a young girl has influenced my interpretation of events. My Vietnamese culture and the romanticism of our people may feel foreign to some and oddly familiar to others. I won't tell you how I want you to feel or think after reading these events, just as life doesn't provide you it's meaning. Read at your own discretion.

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He pushed his weight against the handle, lifting the door into a position where it could close. The walls were patched with hand marks and scratches. Years of people manoeuvring around the small shed had left it looking a lot like an under-serviced park bathroom.

The springs of his bed creaked, stretching to the floor under the weight of his body. Phillip wondered how many other men had found themselves comforted by that same sound. His eyes scanned the room as he straightened the clock on his bedside table.

Still early enough to play, he thought to himself.

He picked up his guitar and twisted the tuners. The metal clicked with each turn, stretching out to a levelled tuned. One at a time, he let the sound of each string bounce off the walls of his room.

“E... A... D...”

A white paw scratched at the crack below his door. It was the land lady’s jack Russell. The thing had a dog house not much smaller than his shed with a mattress more comfortable than his own. It was beyond him why the dog still demanded to sleep on his bed. It would sprawl itself into a wide pancake when it slept which would have been cute if it didn't take up all of the little leg room Phillip had.

Phillip didn't have the heart to reject the dog. It didn't get much affection from Chi. Every night, she would scrape her left overs into the dog’s food bowl, fill it’s water bowl and close the door behind her. He had never see her throw it a ball, rub it's belly or pick up it's shit. He doubted she even realised the patch of mange spreading from the dog’s tail.

The land lady was younger than him but insisted he only ever call her “Chi”. In English this translates to older sister. Phillip was nearly fifty and to any other man his age, this probably would have been considered offensive. He didn’t mind, he even slightly preferred things this way. He was so accustomed to calling others by sir and miss. Life passed so quickly and he never really caught the moment when he was meant to transition from “em” to “anh” to “chu” to "bac". It was also much easier for him to call everyone by co and chu. It’s very hard to offend others when you make them your superior.

(Em is the title of anyone younger than you. Anh refers to men older than you but much younger than your parents. Chu refers to men closer to your parent's age. Bac refers to men or women older than your parents).

He opened the door and the dog pushed his little back nose through the door and to Phillip’s feet.

Phillip shook the dog off his laces and picked up his guitar. His strokes were slow and stuttered. The tempo picked up with each stroke as though the song were loading from his memories to his hands. The melody vibrated through his chest, massaging the ache in his chest.

“Remember to give me a red rose... my longing for tomorrow pass”. Che Linh’s music had been the theme music of Phillip’s life in Australia. From the day he arrived, the years surrounded by his friends to his life now, Che Linh had been the only constant. Had the world understood Vietnamese, they would see that the French are only the second most romantic people.

He always played Che Linh after a break up. Che Linh could help him get over any woman by helping him think of his first love. It is hard to feel sad for the loss of any love when the weight of his first was so much heavier. He closed his eyes, breathed in a full chest of air and held it tightly as though the same press could hold back his tears.

What better than big pain, to distract me from little pain?

He met his first love through his friend, Jessie. The last time he had spoken to Jessie , Phillip’s hair was still naturally black and touched his shoulders. He looked over to the boxes of discounted hair dye in the corner of his room. It had been a long time…

He fell in love with Anna the way all great lovers do, instant and unquestionable. He heard her laugh before he saw her smile, the smile that became the only star he wanted in his sky. She was his and he was hers. His only purpose was to give her everything she wanted. She only needed to look at something for him to know. New shoes, new coat, new bag, love songs, poems, his last thought before sleep and first words in the morning, she would have it all. With him, she would always be loved and protected.

His body tingled and breath shortened with that familiar urgency of love. It didn’t matter how much time passed between them, his body remembered the overwhelming obsession of their love.

She played cool, insisting they keep their own apartments but he knew she just wanted him to prove that he was hers for all time. She was greedy that way. No matter how much he gave her, she would plant obstacles and barriers to test how far he would push his love. All of his attention, all of his time was never enough. Whatever she couldn’t get from him, she would find in the attention of others. He hated the way she would lie to his face, deny her cheating. They were soul mates, connected in every way. How could she think he not see her eyes wonder to other men? They were connected. All they had to do was to look into each other’s eyes to know beyond words what the other wanted. She could try to struggle against his grip, but he always got her eye contact.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to really understand what she wanted from him. She wanted his all. She wanted him to give her all of his love, his entire being. All of his time and gifts would never be enough. He would be lying to her to say that he was really giving his all. On their anniversary, he decided to give her the only gift that she could ever really want, the ultimate confession of his love.

He wrapped his letter in a little red ribbon for her to find by her keys. He opened the plastic wrapped duffel bag from the bottom of his car trunk. The rope still smelt of tires and burnt plastic.

He never intended to actually kill himself. He wanted her to feel what it was like to really have his everything; his love, his attention, his life. Even if it were for only a few hours, he wanted his to be enough for her. He wanted to be the only thing on her mind.

Anna was with Jessie when she found the letter.

“Her pupils were so dilated and expressionless that I thought she had been possessed. I had never seen someone become so small, so quick. It was as though she collapsed into her own body” said Jessie.

“She just…. She just crumpled into herself”.

Phillip’s heart ached hearing his friend retell Anna’s last moments.

“She ripped up the letter and she said we had to find you. I don’t know what it said but she said she needed you. She told me you would be in your old apartment, that’s the only reason we were driving to the east. I took the bridge because she said it would be the fastest route. I had no idea what she would do, I’m so sorry. I am so sorry I wish I could take it all back. I wish I took her straight to the hospital. I didn’t understand what was in head head.” Jessie tried to grab Phillip’s hand. He stared at her. She didn’t know.

The West Gate Bridge has been called a “landmark suicide location” since it’s opening in ‘78. The Victorian government put up suicidal rails in 2009, after a series of high profile filicide-suicides. Thirty years of death for the government to take action.

Phillip hoped that one day, he would hear her familiar laugh from across the room. She might have survived the jump and simply lost her memory from the impact. She knew how to swim after all. A body was never found. For all he knew, she was still alive. No matter the time apart, they were soul mates. He would feel it if she were really gone. He never sought her. No matter what he believed, he couldn’t ignore what he knew. Like most dreamers who have had one too many hopes dismissed, he acted on what he knew, not what he believed.

He used to worry about what he would tell her when she came back. How could he explain his love for Diana if Anna was his soul mate?

He plucked each string of his guitar and let the sound reverberate through the room.

Well, at least that problem is solved now that Diana is really gone.