- The Futility

 

By Diana Krebs

You know, I never really thought it would come
to this. I mean, Fred’s always been a little strange,
but he was never this bad in high school. That’s
when I met him, in grade 10. We've been best
friends ever since. That is, at least until lately. It
seems I've done something, some terribly
wrong, but Fred won't tell me what it is. [wouldnt
be worrying about it, Fred being the type of guy
tities licealiy destroyed his We.

o have es e.

It all started a couple of weeks ago. I came
home one evening, after an awful day at work, and
found a message on my answe machine from
Fred. It-was very direct. “Hi,” he had said, “it’s
Fred. I just want you to know that I can’t go on
any more. My life is nothing but a series of empty

and nights. Since it is no longer worth living,
I just emptied the largest bottle in my medicine
cabinet and swallowed every pill. 1 thought I
should tell you, since it is your fault, after all.

Of course, I immediately rushed over to his
house. I rang the bell, but there was no answer.
I looked up, and saw a note taped to the door. It
read, “The door isn’t locked, locking doors is
ridiculous when one’s life has been closed forever.”
Fred had always been a bit melodramatic. I opened
the door and ran inside. I found him in the living
room. His was slumped in a chair with his
head rolled back, staring at the . He was

. Iran over and took the empty bottle from
his hand. Looking at the label, I read, “Vitamin C
- Chewable Orange-Flavoured Tablets.”

I couldn't believe it. best friend had tried
to overdose on vitamins? I gently shook his
shoulder. “Fred,” I said softly, “Are you i

; “Leave me alone,” he whined, “I am dead. You
are nothing but a spirit, trying to trick me. I cannot

hear .

!’ I screamed into his ear, “You are not
dead! You can’t overdose on vitamin C.” He just
stared at me blankly, so I waved the bottle in front
of his face. “Vitamin C, Fred. It’s vitamin C. You
are definitely alive,” I told him as I messed up his
hair, “What the hell sn en
yourself with vitamin C

I could tell that he was starting to come to the
realization of how stupidly he had acted. His face
ene and tears began to squeeze themselves
our of the corners of his eyes. “Tm hopeless,” he
wailed, “I can’t even kill myself. Just leave me
alone. Leave me here to die a slow death.”

“Fred , come on,” I coaxed, “don’t be so hard
on yourself. Look on the bright side: you probably
won't catch a cold for the rest of your life. Besides,”
I continued, “you were perfectly happy yesterday.

What happened?”

Fred gave me a glare. “You should know,”
he said stubbornly as he walked into the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about me. Just because I'm too
pathetic to kill myself doesn’t mean anything.
Leave me alone, and I'll be fine without you.” Sol
left. I didn’t know what else to do. Still, I couldn't
figure out what I could possibly have done to make
him want to kill . But ’s kind of a weird
guy, so I thought he would probably get over it.
Two days later, however, I would realize that I was

wrong.

“Leave me to rot,"
he commanded,
"1am road kill!"

It was a Saturday, and I was sleeping in. At
12:30, I heard the phone . Groaning, I rolled
over and picked it up. “What’?” It was Fred.

“You don’t have to worry about me ore,”
he said, “I'm ending my life once and for all”

“Fred, where are you?” I asked, yawning and
looking at ae

‘Tm on Maple Street, down by the lake,” he
— Hb wi oe it ao ee be =n Sepeene place.”

en he up. I realize t he was talking
about the tak that we used to drive up to after

 

 

dark, when we were in high school. We would both ap

the Other Press

  

convince our girlfriends to go for a drive, and for
some reason we had always ended up there, at the
end of the long dirt road. Shee Lena the
ort evenings, with Fred it had an entirely

erent story. His girlfriends would end up getting
out of the car, screaming at him that he was a p
Then he would drive them home. We never
talked about it though. I didn’t want to make him
feel bad.

I decided to ee eee aes eae out
to my car. It was only a short down to Maple
Street. I found Fred a little ways past where the
pavement ended. The potholes in the dirt were
much worse than I remembered. Parking my car
at the side of the road, I got out and went over to

r Fred. “Fred, “I called, “what are you doing?

€ on, let's go for lunch. Ill buy you a beer.”
But Fred wasn't to me. He was
the car that was wobbling slowly towards us. It
was a red Vo Beetle, making its
way through the potholes. Just as the car got near
him, Fred jumped in front of it. The Beetle
knocked him over, and he lay there in the dust,
motionless. I waved at the driver, who shook his
head in amazement as he backed up, then drove
around Fred.

I went over and tried to get Fred to stand up.
“Come on Fred, — fine. Get up and we'll go
talk about this, okay?”

“Leave me to rot,” he commanded, “I am
roadkill.”

“Fred,” I said, trying to sound like my mother
when she was to force me to see reason,
“You are not roa At the speed that car was
going, it wouldn’t have killed a mouse if it had hit
it. Would you quit being so ridiculous and get up?”

 

“Ridiculous,” he wailed, “yes, that’s exactly
right, I am ridiculous. My whole life is ridiculous.
Even my death is ridiculous. I wish I had never
been born. But you don't care, your life is perfect
compared to mine. Just leave me here and let me
be ridiculous, if that’s what you think I am.”

“Look at yourself,” I said. “Fred, you're lying
in the middle of a dirt road with dust in your hair
and dirt all over your clothes. a please
just a and let me drive you home

“Fine,” he pouted, “If that’s what you want me
to do, then I will, but I don’t want to. I don’t want

to do anything. My life is simply meaningless.” I
= as he got in the car and put on his
sea

As I drove down the road toward Fred’s house,
I tried to thin of what I could possibly have done
to upset him this much. I remembered to
him on the phone the day before the vitamin C
incident. As far as I could recall, he had seemed
fine. I just couldn’t understand it. “So,” I
“are you going to tell me what this horrible
is that I've done, or do you expect me to guess?”

Fred just looked at me. “How stupid do you
think I am?” he asked. “Do you me
to believe that you don’t know?” By this time, I
had pula up in front of his house. Fred opened
the door and got out.

“Okay, have it your way,” I told him. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he mumbled. As he turned a way, I saw
the expression on his face. He looked as if someone
had just punched him in the stomach. I hoped
that this would be the end of his senseless and
futile attempts at suicide. I wasn’t sure how much
more I could take. Yawning, I decided to take a

When I finally awoke, it was dark outside. I

 

 

Tne shor Story Page

Just a little leaf from the poetree page

 

 

 

November 27, 1992

of Being Fred

looked at my clock. 8:00 pm. I decided to sta
home for the evening. I then tried to call :
hoping that if I invited him over to watch a movie
and have a few beers he might cheer up a little.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t home. I went into the
kitchen ned genbbed nee ee Bee
Black Label. I put in the movie I had rented a week
earlier but hadn’t got around to watching yet. It
looked like a typical action movie, one that would
have scored on Fred’s body count” scale. He
tended to think that the more people that got killed,
the better the movie was.

What the hell, |
should have gone

 

bey Naked.

 

I was only halfway through my first can of beer
when the phone You guessed it. Fred again. |
“Hi,” he said, “it’s me. I finally out a way
to do it. I guess I'm not so ridiculous after all. [m
going to jump off the bridge now. Nobody can
screw that up, not even me.

“Wait,” I pleaded, “Fred...” But it was no use.
He had already hung up. Reluctantly I turned off
the movie, and put on ny ee to go look for him.
I decided to try the Ninth Street bridge first, since
it was the closest one to Fred’s house, and he was
notorious for getting lost every time he drove more
than a few blocks.

I was in luck. I could see Fred’s car parked
right in the middle of the —_ Fortunately, there
was any traffic, so nobody paid too much
attention. I decided to Boots my car on the side of |
the road, just before the bridge, and walk to his
car. When I got aa aba 1 ee ad
anywhere. heart began to pound as
about the possibility that he might have done
it. My best friend could actually have killed
himself. Then I heard him yell.

Leaning over the railing, I could see him. He
was upside down, suspended by one foot.
Fred had jumped, but his shoelace had gotten
caught in a crack in the railing. He was wearing a
pair of combat boots, with new heavy duty laces.
I shook my head in amazement.

“Fred,” I called, “What are you doing?”

“You were “ he called back, “I am pathetic.
And ridiculous. I should have worn loafers. I
should have gone barefoot. What the hell, I should
have gone re

“I decided to ignore him and, reaching down,
grabbed his ankle with both hands. Luckily for
me, he only weighs about 135 pounds, so I was
able to pull him up, et it wasn’t easy. When
I got him over the railing, he just sat on the curb
and looked up at the stars.

“Read the note,” he whispered to me.

“What note?” I asked. Fred pointed at the
windshield of his car. I saw a white piece of paper
trapped behind one of the windshield wipers.
Walking over to the car, I retrieved it , then sat in
the drivers seat to read:

You probaly want to know why I did it. Well, rll
tell you then. When I talked to dee the phone
the other day, you said good-bye I had always
been the one to ey ee first, for all these
years. It was then that I realized that I was fooling
myself. I had no control over my life. It was you.

You've always controlled even te I've done. My
life is no better than that of a dog foll it’s
master’s orders. I know now that my life is futile,
hopeless, utterly without meaning. That’s why I've
decided to end it right now. Freddy.

I couldn't believe it. What a stupid reason to
commit suicide. I didn’t control him. “Fred,” I
called, out of the car, “what do you mean,

I control you?” But he was gone. His boots were
sitting on the sidewalk.

   
     
   
     
   

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