My Black Book Secret

It was dark inside of Emily; her mind constantly raging with thoughts that could drag you down and keep you there for days. On this particular day, her mind felt exceptionally clouded as she sulked out of bed, through the mess of her studio, and into the bathroom.

Smile Emily, atta girl.

The smile didn’t reach her eyes, her reflection slowly pursing its lips again as it stared back with eyes dull and devoid of purpose.

She was a robot now, her days on autopilot, each one just as monotone, two parts gray and hopeless. Despite the lights and decorations that greeted her outside, practically screaming Christmas cheer in her face, her brows remained furrowed, scowling, as she trudged down McGee Avenue. Before boarding her usual 8:00 a.m bus, Emily surprised herself with a quick stop by one of the many bookstores that littered the street across her stop.

Martha, her flavor-of-therapist for the month, had convinced her of a new exercise to try. Despite knowing it wouldn’t work, and against her better judgement, she picked up one of the black books by the register and swiped her credit card. Back outside, with the book safely tucked in her purse, she proceeded to stand by the tattered “McGee Metro” sign, her darkness palpable as it radiated around her whilst she waited. Just a few more weeks, she thought.

3 Years Earlier…

Serena Sudley liked to call the robotic voice of her 2008 Honda “Crazy Siri.” One, because she likes to call any machine voice Siri, and two, because the voice was always driving her crazy whilst the car was on.

“-on McGee-turn left on McGee Street- turn left on McGee Street,”

Serena followed the directions of the GPS, annoyed by the glitch and the repetition of the directions. She was in need of a new car, one that didn’t drive her crazy with repeating directions and a broken volume button. She was hoping that day would come soon since she had finally landed a job after graduating this past summer. Today was her first day on the job, and though the onboarding process and training were intense, she had made it through, and now here she was.

Stepping out of her car, and leaving crazy Siri behind, she felt ready as she put on her new “Dade County Forensics” lanyard and headed up to apartment 103. Several officers in uniform crowded the small space, an awry feeling dominating the scene, Serena could feel her adrenaline rise. Spotting Serena, Officer Seyong motioned for her as she stepped around the caution tape to join her.

“Intern Sudley, glad you finally joined us. We’re glad to have you here. Just stand by my side kid, you’re going to be observing for today. I recommend you take notes of what you’re seeing so I can give you some pointers after lunch today. We’re going to have a re-enactment of the crime scene shortly.”

Two officers brought in a disheveled elderly man with his hands cuffed, and eyes murderous as if it were from a movie scene. The reenactment began.

The three of them walked to a corner of the room where the suspect reenacted how he entered the apartment, followed by the cat and mouse chase of himself and the victim, who was also part of a gang ring and was armed when the crime took place. The cuffed suspect stood by one end of the bedroom while numerous officers littered the bedroom and the rest of the apartment. Some were taking photos, some were taking notes, and others highly alert as they flanked the supsect on both sides in case of retaliation.

The final scene approached; the suspect held his mock gun against the dummy that was in place of the victim. The suspect fired a shot from the gun in his grip and the room erupted into madness. Suddenly there was blood, there was screaming, and Serena found herself backed in a corner of the room as the murderer was apprehended. She watched in confusion, as one of the officers lay bleeding on the floor, his blood pooling and seeping into the carpet of apartment 103. Orders were being shouted; the shooter was now unconscious as they roughly handled him out of the apartment. Serena heard sirens outside, the blue light from outside glimmering in the reflection of the blood. A woman, lay with her knees in the blood, her wails echoing out into the hallway where people scurried in and out for one reason or another. The woman was an officer too, and she must’ve known better than to drape herself so recklessly and so thoughtlessly across the body of the bleeding man. The woman bent down for a kiss as the EMTs rushed into the room and carried the body out, Serena felt herself being pulled by Officer Seyong, past the woman, past the blood, and out into the frenzy of the hallway. She didn’t know what she’d witnessed, or how she ended up in the driver’s seat of her Honda, all she knew was that she needed to get her window to open so she could empty out her guts.

The Present…

She couldn’t pinpoint what possessed her to climb up to the attic so late at night, why today? She wondered, flashlight scoping the place. It was fairly organized for an attic, though definitely in need of some dusting. She approached the box tucked into the corner; the word “Office” written in black marker across its aged cardboard. It’s been years, she doesn’t remember how many, but not enough to forget or get over it. But she was here, wasn’t she? So that meant something, progress at the very least.

Dust fluttered around her as she flung the box open, knowing that the black book would be at the bottom of its contents. She cursed herself for doing that as she emptied out various objects, indifferent and barely conscious of what they were, stopping only when her hands finally touched the unmistakable texture that could only be her aged black Moleskine notebook.

Her heart skipped a beat as she pulled it out into the light, palms sweating and clammy. People can make people nervous; she didn’t know the notebook could too. Taking in a deep breath, she opened it.

Most of the pages had been ripped out or cut out to some extent. There were only a few pages left, and an envelope taped onto the notebook on the back. She let her fingers gingerly brush against the paper. Several years ago, her first love, the man whom she couldn’t imagine the world without, had been shot in her apartment complex; Antoine. A day at work had turned into a nightmare of a day.

Among Antoine’s talents was his genius when it came to his work. As a forensic specialist, he was constantly outperforming his colleagues and even his seniors. He was someone who had used his talent for good, solving cases that had long been abandoned because of their “impossibility”. He helped catch masterminds who had expertly pranced around the policing system to further their illegal businesses and crimes. Word got out that Antoine was leading the call to justice for these well entrenched con-businessmen, and despite doing his job just like the rest, Antoine managed to acquire enemies who had somehow managed to infiltrate the scene that day and shoot him.

Emily found her tears streaming down her cheeks as she held on to the notebook, after leaving the scene that day, Emily had come across some rough observation notes, probably the doings of an intern, describing the events that took place. For reasons unbeknownst to Emily herself, she had picked it up, and kept it in the book for years. Her finger glid across the worn paper, certain words more discernable than the others, “…woman kneeling in pool of blood…kiss…Antoine…ambulance….” What haunted Emily so fiercely following the death of Antoine wasn’t just the loss of him, it was the loss of Antoine because of what she did. Before arriving to the scene, Emily had managed to scarf down a few of her peanut butter oatmeal bars, knowing that they were backed up for the day and she wouldn’t get to break for lunch until late afternoon. When she walked into apartment 103 on McGee street, the apartment unit right under hers, she expected it to be just another day at work. She didn’t expect the attack on Antoine, she didn’t anticipate the blood, and what broke her to the core, were the two kisses she implanted on Antoine before the EMTs withdrew his body from the scene. She knew of his allergies, she knew they were severe, she acted with hysterical selfishness, part of her knowing she would only hurt him, the other part, hungry for one last taste of him. She can never forgive herself. Not everyone who gets shot dies, not everyone who bleeds ends up dead before arriving at the emergency room. There is only so much that they could do for a critically injured, bleeding body covered in hives. He stopped breathing minutes before reaching the hospital, and Emily had stayed up countless nights, wondering how different it could’ve been, if she had controlled herself. If her emotions didn’t get the best of her. If she hadn’t sealed his death with her kiss.

The guilt was all-consuming in the initial months following his death. Every day like a rerun of Antoine dying in her arms. Antoine dying because of what she did. It took six months for her to move from that wretched apartment on McGee street and change jobs. She even started therapy which was of little help prior to meeting Martha. Her unorthodox therapist suggested she make a “coupon book” and give herself permission to start enjoying life again one small step at a time.

Some tasks were easier, smaller transgressions against her guilt, like letting herself smile again. Others were harder, like opening herself up to love, accepting good moments and believing she deserved good people and good things in her life. And others, were simply impossible and unimaginable. Like the thought of stepping foot inside that apartment again.

To combat her self-loathing, Martha had suggested another exercise to deter her away from the self-harm that she was prone to after the incident. For every challenge she completed in the book, she would have to pay the same amount for Antoine. It was like a penalty in some ways, and a way to hold on to him in other ways. If Emily went out to eat pizza for the first time without Antoine, she would pay the $9.25 for her pizza, and then she would transfer another $9.25 to an account she nicknamed “Antoine’s Memorial.”

Emily came up with the previous coupons, drew them in herself, cut them out herself, and completed them throughout the years. The last coupon, the final one, was written by Martha, tucked into the envelope which Emily had taped on the notebook. Emily didn’t know what the final challenge was but knowing Martha; she wouldn’t make it easy. Overwhelmed with anxiety and a whole lot of other surfacing emotions, Emily quickly tapped into her phone as a distraction and let herself check the account for the first time in years. Antoine’s Memorial: $20,000. Twenty grand on the dot sat in the account. Emily blinked, pinched herself, then blinked again as she attempted to come to terms with the number. Her hands were shaking now, this entire moment feeling surreal. Opening the envelope, she anxiously dug her fingers in to retrieve the last challenge:

Emily,

Take a trip. The money saved from this exercise is for you to spend on yourself and only yourself. You are whole and free and alive, Antoine cannot join you, he can only look over you, understand that and understand that you’ll be all right. -M.