The day Jess was raped was the same day Joshua killed himself. Blew his brains out in his parent's backyard while they were away on vacation. They found him when they returned three days later.
You must login to vote
I met Joshua a few times from back in the Noho days. He was cute, smart, and a hell of a lot older. He used to tell me I looked like his ex wife. He wasn’t being weird, just stating fact. I liked Joshua; I knew he was a junky but I liked him. The fact of the matter was, I liked junkies in general. I used to hang out at the old Victorian house admiring the trinkets and snuggling up to Jess as we recounted stories of our childhoods as faerie children. We were young, goth, and fearless.
One snowy evening Josh was walking me to the car. I slipped a little and grabbed onto him. He pulled me up and held me close to him. Our bodies pressed against the icy windows of the Ford.
“I don’t mean to scare you when I tell you, you look like my ex wife.”
“It doesn’t scare me.” My hand gripped around his waist.
“You’re really beautiful.”
I blushed. He kissed me. I got into the car.
The next time I saw him he was smoking weed on Jess’s couch. I was flipping through a T.S. Elliot book. He put his hand on the pages and I looked up. I have no idea how the conversation started but he told me the story of his daughter. He whispered to me, it wasn’t his fault. It was crib death. He cried on my lap.
Every once in a while on an icy cold winter day I’ll remember him. I told this to Jess.
“There’s always someone who holds your heart more than anyone else can. Sometimes they’re in your life for years and sometimes it’s just a moment. Mine was Joshua.” She told me sitting in my garden smoking cigarettes. Her boyfriend softly strummed his guitar in the distance.
If I didn’t say it then, I can at least say it now. I loved you too Joshua. I should have told you when you were waiting for the reply. I didn’t have the heart. You should have loved Jess.
"In my writing I am acting as a map maker, an explorer of psychic areas, a cosmonaut of inner space, and I see no point in exploring areas that have already been thoroughly surveyed."
William S. Burroughs