BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Acknowledgments
  6. Cast of Characters
  7. Part One
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Part Two
  28. Twenty
  29. Twenty-one
  30. Twenty-two
  31. Twenty-three
  32. Twenty-four
  33. Twenty-five
  34. Twenty-six
  35. Twenty-seven
  36. Twenty-eight
  37. Twenty-nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-one
  40. Thirty-two
  41. Thirty-three
  42. Thirty-four
  43. Thirty-five
  44. Thirty-six
  45. Thirty-seven
  46. Thirty-eight
  47. Thirty-nine
  48. Forty
  49. Forty-one
  50. Forty-two
  51. Forty-three
  52. Forty-four
  53. Forty-five
  54. Forty-six
  55. A note on the Author

Finally, in a voice so quiet that the law of diminishing returns ensured it pierced the room, I threw him a question he could not ignore. “Asian? Am I going to die?” Because I couldn’t think of anything to say. Not “How’s the music going?” or “What’s up?” or even “I like your shirt.” All I could do was sit at the foot of the stairs as the cars rolled overhead and ask again, “Am I going to die?”

“I don’t care to discuss it,” he sniffed.

And he packed up the keyboard, packed up the drum kit, packed up the bass that was lying on its side. When he could pack up no more, he laid the instruments in a corner of the dank room and walked past me, up the stairs and out into the world. I followed him. He turned once, to secure the grating with a padlock. And then he was gone, carried along by his anger, out of sight before I had time to break down for him.

I am going to die.

Om. Om. Om.

I am going to die.

Tonight’s the night, baby.

It was only a suggestion that rose to the surface because I was trying to get a good-looking boy to pay attention to me. Although he studiously ignored me, when he stormed off, the suggestion was still there, unwilling to leave me by myself, worried about me, worried that I might do something bad.

“Do something good, Ruby. Do something to help you and everyone around you: kill yourself.”

If you will hold my hand.

“I will be with you all the way.”

So me and the thought of suicide walked home, arm in arm, laughing at the wind like young lovers. It was a considerable walk, but we didn’t really notice how many blocks westward we were pounding, because we had so much to talk about.

“Wait there,” I said, as I put my key in the door. “My landlord is very strict. I am not supposed to bring things like you home with me.”

“Things like me?” huffed the thought of suicide.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But you know what I mean.”

“I know, I know,” soothed the thought. “Let’s just get on with it.”

Two

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How it started

I remember when Liev left. He washed his face before he did it, as if he wanted to be neat to break my heart.