September Fourth

- Dr. Bertrand’s line?
- Dr. Bertrand. This is Rueben Frazier. I saw you for the first time Thursday, and I think, I think I wasn’t honest about how depressed I am (the tears are beginning again). I do want to kill myself. I had to walk out of work today. I kept breaking down.
- (his voice raised an octave, but calm) Ok, did you try the number I gave you in case you feel this way?
- I’m going through the papers. I plan to call it, but wanted to call you first. My five day waiting period was up, I’m supposed to go get my gun. I would have gotten it yesterday but it was a holiday. I didn’t find out til I got there. They were closed.
- This is good, I’m glad you called me. So you do not have the gun, you are not in any immediate trouble –
- No. I called you instead. It’s there, there at the pawn shop.
- Okay. We’ll leave it there for now. Do you have any questions about calling the hotline number I gave you?
- No.
- You will find they are very helpful and attentive, and you musn’t forget they work specifically with situations such as this.
- Yes.
- Do you have friends you can stay with tonight?
- Yes.
- I think you should also contact them afterwards. When are we set to see you again? I have the fourteenth. That is quite some time off. If you’d like, we can schedule this sooner, sometime this week?
- I don’t know why I scheduled it so far out. This Friday, 11:00 ok? Same as last time?
- Okay, we can do that.

That wasn’t so hard. He pours tequila into a shot glass, takes a tiny sip. His heart is still racing, a tempo maintained for the past 10 hours. when he awoke at 2 a.m. The physiological signs are the ones that terrify him the most. They validate his intent – tell him that he’s as capable of destroying himself as he is of delaying this. He balks at ‘delaying this’. That these are his two alternatives, that saving himself is not one of them, brings him back. He dials the number.

- Suicide Hotline? (a calm voice. All sweetness)
- Hello. I’ve already spoken to my therapist, Dr. Bertrand? He believes I should speak to you. I’m suicidal. I guess.
- First off, have you eaten today?
- Sure. Well, not lunch yet.
- Okay, the first thing I’d like for you to do is get something in your stomach. You have food in the house, you can make yourself something to eat?
- Sure.
- The next thing I want to know, do you have friends or family that you can stay with tonight?
- Yes, friends. They know what I’m going through (trying to lead the conversation to what he is going through).
- Okay, I’d like you to call them and arrange for this. And get something to eat. Can you do that?
- (starting to feel like he’s being spoken to like a child) Yeah, I can do that. Is that it?
- I just want you to focus on those things.
- Okay, I think I can do that.
- When will you be able to be with friends? It’s the middle of the day; do you need to wait until they are off work?
- Yes. But I know who I want to stay with. They’ve been supportive through all this.
- Okay. But food first.
- Okay.

He makes himself a sandwich. It isn’t much. But the act of putting it together, the rhythmic chewing of each bite, has a calming effect. It seperates him from the moments before. He makes one more call.

- Did you get my message?
- No, I’ve been in meetings.
- I sent you an email. Look, I think I had some sort of breakdown at work. That is why I didn’t show up at the meeting. Two times I just broke down crying and had to go to the STP room to be alone this morning. I thought I had composed myself, and I’d fall apart again.
- Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?
- I just, I just want to die. Today was supposed to be it. I know I had to pick up the gun today, and I think everything became more real. Like I knew this was it.
- Oh, Reuben. I want you to talk to HR.
- ...so that was what my email was about. I walked out of work to get some help. They mostly want me to eat and be around people…
- Do you have those things? Have you –
- Yes. I won’t be here tonight. It was terrible. I didn’t expect this physical reaction to everything. I’d been so steady up until now.
- You have been through a lot…
- I thought I had everything together; I headed to the meeting, got there, and realized I’d forgotten my calendar. When I got on the elevator to return to my desk – the moment I was alone – I was crying again. Just heaving crying. That’s when I emailed you and left. I’m sorry about that.
- I want you to do whatever you have to do to take care of yourself. And this isn’t going to be just today.
- I can work from home. I think I can handle things from here through the week, and I’ll stay in contact with you.
- Are you on any medication?
- No, Dr. Bertrand is sort of against it. I guess this will make me stronger? I don’t know.
- I think you should look into it. Even if it for a temporary situation, it can help you through.
- I'll talk to him about it. As soon as I get everything settled, I’ll give you another call.
- Okay, Reuben. You know everyone here cares about you. I want you to take your time.
- I appreciate that. Thanks.

He goes to his computer and quickly remotes into his office PC. He feels a pang when he sees that he typed up the email but never sent it: “I can only think of killing myself and I keep breaking down. I can’t be here. I’m going to get some help and will call you when I do”. He closes it, feeling there’s no need to send it anymore. He pours half a shot glass of tequila down the sink, gets into the car, goes to the pawn shop, and picks up the gun. He declines buying bullets and wonders if he’s the first person to buy a gun and then not buy the bullets, whether this might make him suspect. He goes home. He calls his friends. He gives the gun to them, to keep hidden in a safe place. They are all surprised it weighs as much as it does when they hold it in their hands.