That Boring Beige

Dear Bella,

I remembered that day, exactly eight years after your death.

The day I was standing at the edge of the bridge after my suicide attempt, cutting my wrist in the apartment, failed.

The afternoon I spent staring back and forth between the dark water under me, then onto the blue sky above, while finding the courage to end my life.

The same moment when a young woman about the same age as me, clothed in that boring beige trench coat, passed by me.

The next second I took note of her eyes and remembered the person you mentioned before you passed away.

“Dark green eyes?” Angered by how a girl with the same pupils broke us apart, I hissed out. Funnily, it was enough to stop the woman in her tracks.

“Kevin?”

At her call, my eyebrows rose. “You know me?”

Her mouth gaped wide open. Not a word came out, but her widened eyes, which rolled from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, were enough to answer my question.

Damn, she didn’t just have the same eyes - she was the stalker from back then.

***

Dear Bella,

It was a month after I encountered the green-eyed girl.

The same, beige-coated lady who willingly jumped into the river after me, dragging me out of the water.

The woman who then yelled out at my suicide attempt, making me bawl like a kid, and spilling the truth about our car crash.

The car that I steered, the car that went off the cliff. The crash that killed you, the crash that came up to my dream every day, haunting me again and again.

The office worker who listened to my story, calmed me down, brought me back to my older brother’s apartment, and visited me every day after the incident.

“I got you food!” Ivy chimed in as she swung the entrance, squeezing herself into the living room. Yet within seconds, I could see her smile disappear as she saw me. The me who was glued to the brown leather couch, covered in a thick blanket.

“Are you okay? Your face is so pale…,” Ivy immediately scooted over to my side.

I shook and pointed to the ceiling of the room. “The ghost… she’s back.”

Cupping my face, squinting her eyes, Ivy asked, “Tell me, what do you see exactly?”

“A young lady, eighteen years old. Blood spilling out of her head, drenching her clothes.” My fingers clung tightly to the fabric, but my eyes kept looking at you. The you whose eyes widened in surprise as Ivy’s skin reached my face.

Then, Ivy whose head swayed back and forth between the ceiling and me. “But there’s nothing there, Kevin. It’s all in your head.”

“No, I could see her. I could see her haunting me, piercing me with her blue eyes,” I shook Ivy’s hands, and covered my face with the blanket. My shoulders started to shudder, and my brain subconsciously decided to replay the day before you died.

That day, you pulled me to the old park behind the school building. You crossed your arms, raised your voice while asking about the green-eyed girl, who apparently had been following us for a while. The existence of whom I had no clue, but managed to anger you.

That day, my obliviousness then invited you to take a ride in Pa's blue sedan. A car in which I had no confidence driving, yet brought out to the mountain as you requested to see the stars. A trip that doomed both of us - for life.

Recalling the puddle of blood and the coldness of your body, tears started streaming down my cheeks. I knew my sniffling could be heard through the fabric covering me, but it was then, I could feel the warm hands patting my back.

“Forgive yourself, Kevin. Trust me, when you do that, she’ll be gone,” Ivy softly whispered.

It’s ironic how the one appreciating my existence now is the one who killed you, Bella.

***

Dear Bella,

It had been about six months since I got to know Ivy and hung out with her.

The months that went by so quickly thanks to the dinner Ivy served me, the TV shows she had put on while we ate, the occasional ramblings about her boss and colleagues she uttered while doing the dishes.

The realization that entered my head: that I hadn’t seen you - the transparent, bloodied you that had been chasing me for the past eight years - ever since Ivy occupied the empty space you left behind.

The moment I started enjoying life again, pushing thoughts about you aside. The same time nightmares about our crash left me behind, letting guilt gradually cease from the deepest part of my heart.

The me who finally could start thinking clearly.

About the routine I have been having these days: watching TV all afternoon, chatting with the neighbors from time to time while waiting for Ivy to finish her work, then spending the evening with her. The seemingly simple and boring occurrence, but bringing joy into my life.

About the future ahead of me, especially since I dropped out of high school thanks to the rumor spreading around: the sayings that I have murdered you. The worries on how I could survive on my own, without having the proper education and experience to work.

“Oh, come on. You aren’t on your own, are you?” Ivy refuted my thoughts. Her hands on her hips, and her green eyes staring directly into mine, “I’m here, with you!”

“You’ll be away once you have family, though,” I faintly chuckled.

“Well, then, you can be my family,” Ivy pounded hard on her chest, grinning widely. “I can work for both of us. You can take care of the house.”

I lightly shook my head, “Surely you won’t want this suicidal, traumatised man to be your life partner.”

Yet in return, Ivy blushed. “I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Am I… allowed to be grateful for her presence in my life, Bella?

***

Dear Bella,

Another year passed by, and this marked the ninth year of your passing.

The year I finally proposed to Ivy, and we jumped right into wedding planning. The same year I took one golden invitation out of the pile and walked over to the cemetery. To be exact, to the tombstone carved with your name.

The nervous gulp I had before meeting you. The guilt seeped back into my mind as we started talking. The conflicting thoughts ran through my head, with one side convincing I shouldn’t let you go, and another wishing for a forever farewell.

The white-coloured you saying how you were glad to see me and converse like we used to do - the last wish before you left the earth. The floating you who waved goodbye, wishing me to move on with life.

The me who suited up, took the green-eyed girl’s hands and placed them on my arms. The groom who walked the candle-decorated aisle, heart thumping with excitement to begin a new life journey. The couple at the center of the church’s attention, in peace with one another, side by side.

Until Ivy stopped in her tracks and screamed from the top of her lungs.

“Fire! Ahhh!!!”

Instinctively, I directed my eyes to the panicked bride and to my surroundings.

The woman, already tossed her bouquet away, and frantically swung her palms to put out the burning crackles on her white dress.

The guests who shrieked and gasped at the unusual accident, and a couple of them who mumbled negativity.

The tall guy who stood out in between the sea of audiences, the same man who happened to be standing on the knocked candle.

And the floating ghost gritting her teeth, balling her fist, peeking her head behind the smirking tall guy.

It was then, the conscience reached my heart.

Ah…, I see how I’m hurting you by tying the knot with your murderer.