The next day, I came home to find both of my parents seated in the living room, with a man who looked to be about 45 and balding. He stood up when I walked in and introduced himself as Dr. Chandler.
I looked at my mother, confused. “We wanted you to meet with Nova’s therapist. He was hoping to talk to some of Nova’s friends about her last days.” She said as explanation.
“Therapist?” I stood, staring at the stranger sitting in my living room.
Dr. Chandler smiled and nodded.
“Well, we’ll leave you two alone.” My father said as my parents both started to leave the room.
I sat down and cleared my throat. “Why were you her therapist?” I asked cautiously.
Dr. Chandler sighed. “Nova suffered from bipolar disorder.”
I took in his words. “What?” I stared at him incredulously; Nova had never mentioned anything about it, and never really acted bipolar.
“I’m taking it you didn’t have any idea she suffered from the disorder.”
“I… uh, no.” I continued to stare at the patch of missing hair on the man’s head.
“Well, yes, she had bipolar disorder. On her up days, she would meet with me, feeling very light and happy and telling me about all the plans she had. She wouldn’t sleep for days she was so ecstatic. And then on her down days, she would come to my office with a completely different personality.”
It made sense. Nova’s countless days of not sleeping and taking midnight walks, her impulsive decision to get a tattoo, the way her eyes lit up and she started explaining her cluttered thoughts on anything and everything. And then her down days, where she looked upon the world with negative eyes and dismal words.
“Anyway, I wanted to ask you some questions.” He continued when I didn’t respond to what he had said, still too much in shock.
“Okay.”
“You saw Nova the last night she was alive, did she mention anything to you implying that she was possibly going to end her life?”
I recounted that night of prom. “No, she seemed happy.
“Okay. Say it was suicide. When was the day she actually left, mentally? The day she started fading from this world and focusing on another one?”
I took a couple moments to thread together the words I was looking for. “She was never in this world, though. She was always above us, always floating on an idea that we could never quite grasp. It was like looking through a blurry lense whenever we tried to understand what she was thinking about. Her presence was always translucent, always changing, and yet it was the most prominent thing in a room."
Dr. Chandler nodded and rubbed his chin. “What do you think it was? Suicide, accident?”
“I… I don’t know. I don’t think it was an accident, because the train tracks are on the other side of town and she usually doesn’t walk that far. I didn’t think it was a suicide, because she was so happy on prom night, but after learning that she was bipolar, I’m not sure. I think something must have switched in her mind that night, all of a sudden.”
He nodded again. “I have learned that suicide, for most, it just a moment. A moment where everything hits you, every bad thought suddenly comes propelling towards you. And it doesn’t matter the circumstances, whether you’re in the middle of a dinner date or finishing an exam. It all hits you, and you forget about your family, your friends, everyone that would miss your presence. You see a knife, or a gun, or an open window. And you realize how easy it is, how quickly you can be relieved of this torture. Most of the time you stop, you back away from the opened window or put back the knife on the shelf. But once in a while, you just do it. You throw yourself towards death without looking back.”
I sat in silence, taking his words in.
I finally said, “She liked being spontaneous. She liked being a mystery, and I think she could never live with the thought of someone fully knowing her. So she took hold of the reins and became even more of a mystery by ending in one.”
