Sunday, December 1, 2013

We Were An Empire, My Dear

We Were An Empire, My Dear
by Jesse Davila 

I remember picking the rope. Standing in TrueValue looking at all the different grades of rope. The nylons that looked liked they would burn and cut before it would be over. The large grade ropes that looked too thick to do the trick. I remember when I saw it. Beautiful and perfect. I felt each braid as they ran along the back of my knuckles and over my fingertips. Polite and refined, the rope’s thickness promised me, in ways nothing else ever could.
I can remember how the idea first entered my head. I was reading about Mindy McCready after seeing some strands of facebook comments. I read of her troubled life, the drugs, the abuse, the long fall down hill. I used to wonder how a person could commit suicide. Then, it didn’t seem all that implausible. That was when the first notion entered my head. At first I thought it was crazy and I brushed it off. I told myself that I would never take that path. But the idea kept coming back.
I started to contemplate it more and more. I began by thinking of the ways in which I would do it. The gun was too messy. I could imagine myself splattered everywhere. The knife was too slow and painful. I thought about the sharp pain and waiting to bleed out on the floor. Pills seemed possible. After research, though, I read about the occurrences of survival. Sometimes your kidneys failed and you spent months in a hospital or on dialysis waiting to die. I couldn’t do that, facing a hospital staff that knew what I had done, or worse, anyone who had tried to care about me. When I thought about the noose it seemed so traditional. A quick snap of the neck and gone.
In truth, I wasn’t your average suicidal person. I didn’t have a troubled childhood. In fact, I had a pretty good childhood. I was a great student, in my church youth group, and I was a good basketball player. I had a lot of potential coming from a small town. It seemed like everyone expected me to be some kind of hero. My parents cared about me, but never in the way I wanted them to. My mom was often my support, but she wanted me to be successful so she could tell her friends. My dad wanted every accomplishment I gained to be somehow his. They loved my state science fair championship, my all district basketball honors, and my college scholarship for their bragging rights, not for what it meant for me.
College was a dynamic time for me. I smoked a little marijuana with acquaintances. I somewhat studied enough to keep me from getting kicked out while I pursued other endeavors. I made my first serious girlfriend. I had dated before but this was the first girl who meant something to me. Marla was different. She was an idealist and what you could refer to as strange. What made her different is what made her attractive. We lived together for a year after graduation and for that year I truly lived.
She was a real fan of breaking and entering. Not for the usual reasons, we never stole anything but experiences. We’d eat dinner in the homes of families gone on vacation. Take swims in other people’s pools. Tossed around stranger’s sheets. We would crash hotels breakfast and dine and dash our late night dates. We lived that way until she got bored. Then one day while eating a hotel breakfast she said, “We were an empire, my dear.” A week later she was gone.
Our apartment after that got really empty. I guess it had been all along. When Marla left she didn’t take much. We never really had much. I didn’t exactly miss Marla, she was just as pretentious as everyone else. I did, however, miss living. Everything after felt so meaningless. Days seemed to fuse together, awful and repetitive. Everything that happened became an excuse for anger, an outlet of emotions stockpiled. I started to hate the world, the rich, the happy, the complacent, the TV watchers, beer drinkers, the satisfied ones. Deep down I knew I could be all those hateful things and I hated myself for realizing that there was no escape, I knew my own fate.
I remember the church. St Agnes church had been abandoned since the eighties. It was two blocks from our apartment on the corner of La Salle Gardens and 12th Street. I always drove a little slow when I passed by. I was always fascinated with it and constantly tried to convince Marla to go inside, but she never would.
When I finally visited the church alone I had an idea of what I was doing there.  The concrete sidewalks were overgrown with grass and weeds. The landscape seemed to be fighting to take back the grounds. I walked around the side prepared to slide in through a window or force my way through a door. When I got to the back of the church a  brown and black rotten door was thrown off to the side revealing a vacant doorway. When I got inside I knew that this was where it would be. This was exactly what I came for. The main sanctuary was barely intact, but immaculate.  Water damage covered the floors creating green mossy mirrors reflecting light in every direction. The masonry had started to crumble from the gothic, monumental ceiling. The crumbled cieling revealed a red under brick creating a delicate contrast. And there right above the altar, sat a perfectly stained glass window, impeccable and untouched through the years. A wooden beam ran overhead, ideal to tie a rope from and I knew that this would be where I spent my final moments.
I set a date for a month later to get everything in order. I was done in two days. There really wasn’t much to it. I spent the next weeks in agony, waiting for the day to approach. I didn’t sleep even though I was tired. I read a lot. I stopped showing up to work, but no one called or really cared. It was like I was already gone and no one noticed.
The day finally came. I picked up the roped and untied the noose in it. I had tied it and untied it over and over again. Tying it at the church could be one more ceremonious step. I put on a hoodie and jeans, nothing special, and decided to walk to the church instead of drive.
I had walked there a dozen times and this time wasn’t any different. I guess I expected some sort of clarity. None came. I came to the church and the trash out front was gone. Something was off. I stood there out in front wondering why. Then I saw him. He was pulling weeds out of the concrete. I sat across from the church all day and watched him sweep up and patch cracks. He worked endlessly to wash the years of filth from off the church windows and as I watched I wondered if there was anyone like that for me or anybody else who had broken and lost hope.

6 comments:

  1. Awesome, awesome story. I liked so much of it I don’t even know where to begin. First of all, the title is my favorite. It is so catchy and clever I feel like if this story were to be published somewhere it would definitely catch people’s attention. I loved the foreshadowing at the beginning with the rope. Suicide was definitely the first thing that popped into my head when the guy looks at the rope and thinks, “the nylons that looked like they would burn and cut before it would be over.” Obviously there was a reason the narrator didn’t want the rope to burn or cut. My favorite part of the story, by far, is the description of the run down church. Even though the church is old and falling apart, and the narrator is suicidal, the descriptive writing made the whole situation oddly beautiful to me. The way the descriptions just all flowed together. Great writing style! I loved it. “Water damage covered the floors creating green mossy mirrors reflecting light in every direction. The masonry had started to crumble from the gothic, monumental ceiling. The crumbled ceiling revealed a red under brick creating a delicate contrast,” this was definitely some of the best descriptive writing I read, and it was an awesome element to include in your story. I also like how you included the stained glass window. I kind of felt like it added a feeling of hope to your story, and from that point on it’s kind of like this idea of hope grows larger and larger until the end when he ends up not committing suicide. The only thing that I would change about the story is the ending, but not much of the ending. I was just confused as to why seeing the man working on the church would change his mind about committing suicide, so I would have explained that a little more, but other than that I seriously thought this was one of the best stories I have read, even better than a lot of the stories we read for class, I thought. This story reminded me of Brad Watson’s short stories, because I felt like all of his stories had some what of a glimpse of hope in them. It specifically reminded me of “Are You Mr. Lonelee,” even though “Are You Mr.Lonelee” did not really have hope it in, but it was kind of the same scenario with the man whose wife left him, and he became depressed and started doing things he normally wouldn’t, and having risky behavior. I feel like the fact that Marla is no longer in the narrator’s life is what is urging him to kill his self, which is something that is done out of deep depression of the one he was in love with no longer being there. It was really an amazing story, and you should seriously get it published somewhere. I think people would love it as much as I did.

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  2. This story is really well done. To start off with, the foreshadowing at the beginning is a good start. When the narrator is talking about which rope he is going to use and why, it gives the reader a look into how broken he really is. I also feel that the feelings of the narrator are delivered really well. The overbearing parents using their child and the way the narrator thinks each scenario through is a realistic touch as I have been there before and it actually conjured up some memories and emotions in me. It also reminded me of my own story that I wrote for this blog.
    I thought the title was good and it is what drew me in to read the story in the first place. Then once I had started reading, I was hooked. You have a writing style that I like and it makes it easy to read this story. I also liked the part of the story that alludes back to the girlfriend and how she liked weird things like breaking and entering, crashing hotel breakfasts, and “dine and dash[ing].” Things like this in the story show me that it was well thought out and it actually does work in the story.
    Finally, what I liked most about the story was the ending. Throughout the whole story, we get a sense of impeding doom or a life that simply cannot be saved. It seems that the narrator has made up his mind and is heading for his end. But it isn’t just the fact that the narrator changes his mind that I like, it is the way in which it is delivered in the story. The fact that he walks to the church, I feel is more significant the more I think about it because what if he hadn’t? Maybe if he had driven, the man cleaning outside the church would not have been there yet and maybe the story would have ended on a darker note. So I liked the detail in that. But the symbolism of someone outside the church, the place he picked to end his life, cleaning up the church and “wash[ing] the years of filth away,” I thought was really good. It isn’t specifically stated if the narrator decides against suicide, but there is an overwhelming feeling of hope at the end and it makes the reader feel good for the narrator.
    I guess if I had to choose something I did not like about the story it would be the transition between paragraphs and ideas in the story. It seemed at times the story moved too quickly from scene to scene. It isn’t too distracting or anything, but it’s something that could be noted, I guess.
    The story it reminded me of in class is “Are You Mister Lonelee?” by Brad Watson. As mentioned by the commenter before me, there is a parallel between both narrators in that their wives left them and they are left alone and depressed.

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  3. First off I want to start by saying this story is absolutely a polished gem. This is by far my favorite story I have read all semester; I am going to have to write 500 words on everything I liked because there’s nothing I would improve.
    The way you started the story was great, who would have ever thought to start a suicide story off by having them in a home supply store buying rope??? I am sad to say after that after the first paragraph I knew he was going to hang himself, especially after I read “the rope’s thickness promised me, in ways nothing else ever could.” What a beautiful way to word what the narrator is feeling at this moment. I think the only reason I saw it coming however is because I have had a semester full of depressing and tragic stories. I love the descriptive detail you put into everything without over doing it. A lot of the time, amateur writers seem like they write a basic story and then go back in with a thesaurus and change each word to make it sound more elaborate. Not this story, everything flows so beautifully, each word seeming to have been created just for it’s placement in this story. The descritption of the church was my favorite. “The main sanctuary was barely intact, but immaculate. Water damage covered the floors creating green mossy mirrors reflecting light in every direction. The masonry had started to crumble from the gothic, monumental ceiling. The crumbled cieling revealed a red under brick creating a delicate contrast. And there right above the altar, sat a perfectly stained glass window, impeccable and untouched through the years”. That is a prime piece of writing right there and I applaud you for it sir.
    I love the way that you presented the thought of suicide to the narrator. Having him contemplate the thought after reading “strands of facebook comments”. This is so relatable in todays time with social medias overtaking the lives of the adolescent. The way the narrator struggles with the thought lets the reader know that it is soon going to be an issue since the “idea [keeps] coming back”.
    The way you informed the reader was just amazing. You never came write out and said what you were doing, you let the reader put it all together and for that I thank you. Most of the other stories just would have gone something along the lines of “ I was at the store to buy the rope to hang myself” yet you didn’t do that.
    I related this story to “Are You Mr. Lonelee” after I read the last sentence “I watched I wondered if there was anyone like that for me or anybody else who had broken and lost hope”. This reminded me of the emotion felt by Mr. Lonelee when his wife left him.
    After writing this I decided there is one thing that I would have had you improve on. I wish you could have elaborate more on the ending. I realize that you couldn’t because of the assignment requirements but it seems like this beautiful story came to a screeching halt. I guess honestly I just didn’t want it to end. I would seriously look into elaborating that just a touch more and then see if you cant get this published.

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  4. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but this story really was incredible. I know I'm supposed to comment on a story that doesn't have any, and you've obviously acquired a number of fans but I just loved this story so much. This story was so well planned and thought out. A story about suicide could easily be cliché and I’d lose interest pretty quickly, but even your introduction was different. The narrator’s description of the ropes is told in a very clean way that is almost technical or scientific. It was a very interesting way to start and it immediately captivated my attention. There was a lot of detail in this story; everything was explained very well and in great depth and it provided the reader with a sense of who the narrator is and what is life has been like. You managed to cover a great span of time with not many words and I think that can be hard to do. You could have easily made the reader feel like we lacked information or you could have bored us with such extensive history, but it never felt that way. You did a great job with that. My absolute favorite part of the story is “we never stole anything but experiences.” I love the description of his time with Marla. It’s not enough just to say she is different and you went on to talk about them eating dinner in a stranger’s house while they were out of town, tossing their sheets around, swimming in their pools, etc. Those are details that make the reader love Marla and feel like we know her. Consequently, we feel the narrator’s pain and loss when she leaves him and that makes this story believable. The end of the story was my other favorite part (I have an extensive list of favorite things about this story). You left it kind of open for interpretation. Does he kill himself eventually? Does he find someone? Is he emotionally rehabilitated and does he develop a sense of worth and belonging? The ending isn’t conclusive but it doesn’t leave the reader aggravated. It almost feels like the narrator is developing a sense of hope in the last sentence. That is a tricky thing to do, as I’ve learned first hand. A lot of the stories we’ve read this semester end in a way that leaves the reader curious and wondering, but not frustrated. You did a really great job of that in this story. I don’t have anything bad to say. I can’t think of a way to change this story at all. I wouldn’t want an ending where he kills himself or where he feels an overwhelming sense of happiness. This was the perfect way to end it. Also, yours was the first story that I read because of the title and crazily enough, you said the same about mine! I can’t say it enough, you did a wonderful job.

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  5. Wow! Jesse, this story was so great! You did an awesome job. I love everything about this story. It was sad, and makes you feel so incredibly bad for the narrator because no one wants to feel that bad about themselves to where they would go to the extent to kill themselves. It made me want to help him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. But I like how you didn't make the narrator even too sad about it. It was almost like he was questioning it himself but he wouldn't admit it. When you said, "I spent the next weeks in agony, waiting for the day to approach. I didn’t sleep even though I was tired" this made me almost think that he might not really do it. I like how you had him almost second guessing himself a few times, and the fact that he seemed nervous about doing it. When he postponed killing himself for a month it gave me a little hint that maybe he wont do it and maybe he's postponing it so he can do something exciting before he dies. But he doesn't, he sleeps and reads, which was really interesting to me, it just made me wonder why. This story was so well written and I loved the mystery of it and I could ask so many question like why he did this and why he did that, but I like the fact that these questions go unanswered because it gives the story that mystical vibe.I also really like how you gave us hope at the end. I love a story that has a good ending that ends with me feeling like something good could come out of such a bad situation. I really didn't not like anything about this story. But if I had to change something it would be that maybe the story goes a little bit longer and tells us what he does in the end. It left me hanging and I just wanted more, I had so many questions. But at the same time, like I said, if you would have answered all these questions than the story wouldn't have been the same. Also, this story reminded me of the story "Elephant Doors" by Gavin. I know this is a weird story to pick but it reminded me of how much the narrator in that story doesn't really know what he is doing with his life and he depressed and really just doesn't do much with his life and in the end, although he loses his job, it still gives me hope that a bad situation will lead to good consequences, like your story. It reminded me a lot of Gavin's stories and how all our narrators are just stuck in the middle and don't really know what to do with their lives. Overall, this story was magnificent and I really enjoyed reading it! Great job, Jesse!

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  6. Jesse, I loved this story! Your first paragraph was really good at capturing my attention. I also loved how descriptive you were about buying the rope. “I remember when I saw it. Beautiful and perfect. I felt each braid as they ran along the back of my knuckles and over my fingertips. Polite and refined, the rope’s thickness promised me, in ways nothing else ever could.” It made me really curious why the narrator was that obsessive about rope and what he was going to do with it. A few paragraphs later the reader is introduced to the fact the narrator wants to commit suicide. I was eager the whole story wondering why he would want to do that. I like how you have him contemplating different ways to do it as well. I know that when I hear of people committing suicide I want to know how they did it and why they chose to do it that way, so your story really clarifies that for me. “When I thought about the noose it seemed so traditional. A quick snap of the neck and gone.” You really clarified that to me as a ready why he chose to do it that way. It’s quick and there is no mess. I think you did a great job giving the background of the narrator and letting the reader know he wasn’t usually a suicidal person. It really made me feel like he had to have been pushed to the ultimate low to feel that way. The rest of your story unfolds very well in letting the reader know about his heartbreak and what drove him to that point. Flows very well! I like the irony you created by having the narrator want to hang himself in the old church. I would have never thought to place a suicide there, so good job on surprising the reader. I loved the ending of this story. The whole time I was expecting the narrator to hang himself and the girl come back and find him, instead the narrator has a realization of his life and wonders if things could end up being better than killing himself. “He worked endlessly to wash the years of filth from off the church windows and as I watched I wondered if there was anyone like that for me or anybody else who had broken and lost hope.” Great job there.
    It’s hard for me to say what should be better about this story. You did well on the details and explaining everything. I would say maybe you could have transitioned ideas a little better.
    This story reminded me of “Are you Mister Lonelee” because the man is lonely and cannot find any happiness in his life just like the character in your story. He is constantly looking for a purpose and can’t seem to find one.

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