"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do men light a lamp only to put it under a bushel basket; they put it on a stand where it gives light to all in the house."
As Debby slipped the suicide string around her wrist, it was the fear of what would happen on the inside she dreaded more than any fear of what could happen on the outside. Falling 30 stories to certain death was at least a way out. Trapped in a life she could never leave, she was tethered to this world by her string of god's approval. She was addicted to it and she felt that to die an untimely death would also mean the end of all her adoration. So in leaving and staying she was torn.
Best to let the chance of a breaking string take all the responsibility.
Tears of regret dripped from her cheeks. The same haunting questions voiced themselves once more in loud tyranny. How did she let things go so far off? Who was she? What was she good for? Why couldn't she find an answer?? The aching emptiness pounded her temples and broke her heart. It was much too much to feel! “If God wants me dead then so be it!”
She was the superstar who ran away from life. Growing up, everyone could see the dreams in her and loved her for it. She fiercely believed in those dreams – but slowly gave up on herself. And the more she gave up, the more she need approval. To do What Was Expected became the paramount concern in her life. She rationalized that as her need. If she were ever to face life on her own, she feared to be exposed as not the stalwart defender of dreams for which she was so admired. So she hid in the discipline of her marriage and hopelessly grasped onto its illusion of fulfillment. But the more she let herself be used, the less useful she became…
“Oh, my God! What will people think!” Debby pictured her lifeless body splattered on the ground and the resulting shock of her parents and family viewing such an inappropriate spectacle. She shut off the pipeline to her feelings and grasped her way back onto the roof. Back into her trap.
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Tim the Tormented always knew when someone had just come back from using the suicide string. It was the fresh look of despair that gave them away. “You know the difference between a woman and a girl?” he asked pretending to not notice her presence. “A woman knows the difference between being useful and being used.” He turned to his nemesis. “Oh, hi Debby. Are you a woman?”
Debby never broke her wall of silence. Façade Fred felt the need to interject though. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” Then he winked to Al to join in, who obliged.
“Seems to me, Tim, Debby here already has a man!”
Tim could strangle them both. Yet it was Debby’s silence that hurt him the most. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “You gotta be kidding! Who would want to make a life with her? Little miss Prom Queen has turned her back on everything she is! Tell me something, your Perfectness, you gonna teach your children to grow up and empty trash for a living too?”
The arrow struck home. “It’s easy for you to talk,” Debby railed back. “You don’t do anything. You live in a cave and comment on everyone’s life but your own.”
Having finally got a response, Tim had Debby exactly where he wanted her. Thus he ignored her. “I guess that’s just what we’re gonna do in this country: just keep on raising kids to be as stupid as we are. There’s a noble goal! There’s a secret every sick parent knows: a sick child will love you, a healthy one won’t. It’s good to have a plan!”
As defender of the world, Fred was threatened by talk of its demise. “You wouldn’t know a noble goal if it bit you on the butt! Some people live to serve the greater good. Not that that’s something you can understand.” Tim started to smile as he pictured Façade Fred’s idea of greater good.
Their old friend of Uneasy Silence arrived on the smirking lips of Tim. But all that was shattered by the meek, matter-of-fact voice of Debby.
“We’re out of trash bags. I’ll go get some more.”
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