50 Years Old
Trigger Warning: Suicide, death, and miscarriage
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On May 1, Christine Graves published a word-a-day writing prompt for the month. I was inspired to use 10 words from her list to create a short story. Some of these words include slight alterations in my piece: Century, basket, protect, trophy, tantrums, camper, floated, portrait, memories, and dedicated.
My name is Abby. I’m about to turn 50 years old. That’s half a century, but I feel older than that! So many things have happened in my life. I’ve gone through so many hard times and learned lessons from them.
Back to the Beginning
I’ll start by telling you about my early 20s. This was when my life drastically changed. My brother, Kevin, died in a plane crash on his way to college. At that time, I was already at college, waiting for his arrival.
After hearing about the tragedy, all of my plans to take him to parties and help him pledge to fraternities died with him. I no longer felt safe on campus. I stopped talking to my parents and all of my friends.
I coped by drinking until I couldn’t remember a thing. Sometimes I woke up in strangers’ beds. A few months after Kevin died, I found out that I was pregnant. But I had no idea who the father was.
Many women would at least tell a best friend or a doctor about a surprise pregnancy. But not me. I couldn’t do it. Between the alcohol, cigarettes, and copious amounts of weed, I wasn’t stable enough to make any brave or smart decisions.
The Suicide Plan
So I tried to end my life by jumping off the roof of my apartment building. But by the grace of God, there was a man who interrupted my plans. His name was Billy. He looked like a Greek God!
“Hey, what do you have there?” he asked me, eyeing my basket of wine under a dim light.
Why did I have a basket of wine? I have no idea. Again, I was completely unstable.
“Eight bottles of wine!” I yelled. “One bottle for every week since my brother died. It’s been two months since life became a shit show. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to jump to my death!”
