March 16, 2003

  • Whew, what a week.  Didn't see Brett at all Friday, his last exam and the end of the quarter bash.  Okay cuz Chelle and I could take the time to lie around in our bathrobes and be depressed.  We missed Darcie's funeral as we weren't informed of her demise until afterwards.  Bummer.  Her family's so fucking hush-hush; probably can't stand being accused of failure.   I can see their side but it sure causes a big guilt trip over here, not being able to show our respects.  


    By Saturday, her day, the reality of Darcie's being no more set in.  We could hardly sleep last night, thinking her disturbed spirit was hovering around us, trying to make contact.  Suicides are the worst to rattle their chains, they say, besides murder victims.  I believe it; as soon as we turned the lights off, the darkness was alive with her like a big gobbling amoeba.  Luckily that was the extent of the manifestations for me, besides a few half-awake, scattered dreams of her I can't remember.  Chelle kept imagining her shadow in the hallway and had to shut the door.  Lended some feeling of safety but the heat couldn't come in and the light rain we had made the room smell like a grave.  She woke up right before dawn with a shriek, thinking a hand had brushed her face, but it was only a roach running across her cheek.  ("Only a roach" is relative, of course, but that was a first; they're never usually that bold.  Must have been a possessed cucaracha, we concluded this morning; haunted houses always get wierd bugs and shit.)  We might hold a little memorial tonight if we can get everybody together.