“Track One:” Mary Was a Diamond

“Mary was a good girl with fire in her eyes.”

“She cursed like all those sailors did, and she turned out just fine.”

“Oh, Mary Please, come back home…” I whispered under my breath as the rest of them raised their glasses in her honor and downed their drinks. I ran the same phrase over and over in my head while my eyes glazed over, the ice melting in my glass: come home, come home. Come home.

The only way to keep my mind from drowning in a constant loop of pain was to let the whiskey slide past my lips and wait for it to plunge into my empty stomach, and the brown liquor could do its job. It was getting harder to self-medicate. My tolerance had risen threefold in the last six days.

I knew better than to think another round, or five, was going to set me right. Nothing was right anymore. Up was down, black was white- and all of that shit. I can still feel the ache in my right shoulder from having helped with the proceedings. The sting reminds me I need to switch to doubles if I want any shot at numbing the pain. 

A couple of short hours ago I was bearing the weight from the right side of her casket, the edge of polished wood had dented my skin, leaving a groove so deep I thought today had scarred me in more ways than the one. I peeled back my collar to see if the line in my skin was still there, but it had already started to bounce back, only a reddish-purple mark was left as proof that the weight of her being gone was real.

Of course, it was real. I had just watched them lower her into the ground. My brain got loud again, creeping up over the drinks, and the bar, and the chatter: come back home, come back home…

The last six days were a fog. Just seven days ago my world was rose colored and brimming with possibilities. Seven days ago Mary was sat in the passenger seat of my car and we were in love.

  I had pulled over on the side of Millbrook Road. The lights and the radio were off. Only the sound of the spring rain bouncing off the roof of my car reminded us there was anything else going on in the world besides the two of us, and the plan we’d just hatched.

She was sitting quietly with her feet tucked up on the seat, her arms wrapped around her knees. It was always strange to see how she could make herself look so small with a personality as big as hers. When she was thinking about something she didn’t want to say out loud, her eyes would begin to shine from the wetness of tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Then, like clockwork, her mascara would start to drop from her lashes to the skin beneath her eye. I told her once, as I was wiping away one of her thoughts in the form of an inky black spot above her cheekbone that she should invest something waterproof, to save herself the hassle. She just smiled, cleaning herself up in an instant like she has a 1000 times before, “Never- Springsteen and Mascara were born to run.”

I’d have given anything to know what she thought when her eyes would go glassy like that.

  “I’m going to tell him tomorrow,” her face was determined like she was preparing for battle.

“You don’t have to do it by yourself. It’s our mess. We can tell Will together.”

“He’ll crush you.”

“No, he won’t.” I didn’t know that. In fact, I’ve seen William do more harm over far less. But I didn’t want her to know that. And I never wanted her to do anything terrifying on her own ever again.

 “You only think that because you’d never hurt a fly.” Mary wrapped her arms around her legs tighter like she was keeping out the cold.

Was that supposed to be a compliment or, an indictment? Maybe she didn’t think I was capable of bearing such bad news to my best friend, her fiancé. Maybe she didn’t think I could protect her.

I winced in my seat, trying to push that thought from my mind as quickly as it entered.

She laughed, letting her head fall back against the seat, her arms falling to her side. Mary placed a hand on mine, fingers tangled in a lock with my own, “Why couldn’t I have just met you first?”

Will was away on business and due back from the airport in the morning, so I drove us back to my place. When I think about that night, I wonder if I’d have said anything different had I known it was the last.

We said, “I love you.”

We said, “It won’t be as hard as we think.”

We said, “Think of everything that’s coming next.”

She said, “It’s going to be perfect.”

We fell asleep to our promises for the future. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. 

But a beep on my phone set my brain into a panic in the middle of the night.

A missed call from Will engulfed the banner on the lock screen of my phone. Everything was silent except the sound of her breathing and the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. But it felt like an alarm was screaming in my room.

I inched out of bed with my cell phone. I wondered if I should feign sleepiness and just call him back. I walked into my living room to pull the curtains shut. I loved my place, but the first floor brought little to no privacy from the street. On a nearly full moon night like this, it was like a lamp was on in the center of the room, illuminating every dark corner, whether you wanted it to or not.

I decided just to leave my phone in the kitchen, crawl back into bed with Mary, and leave Will until the morning.  

The next morning we woke early. I dropped Mary off at the coffee shop down the road from her house. That was her routine, a reason to be out of the house and away from Will. He wasn’t due home for another few hours. Still, she was a creature of habit about two things: Coffee, and literally nothing else.

I told her I’d buy her a coffee then drop her off at home so she’d have more time to pack her things… but she didn’t want to raise any flags. The packing would have to come after the conversation. I pulled over to the curb, looking over my shoulder for anyone who might see us. Mary raised her eyebrows, scanning the streets like a spy- overdoing it just to tease me.

She pulled me in for one long full kiss, right there under the sun in front of anyone who cared to look. Mary let out the biggest belly laugh once she released me from her grip, taking in the fear on my face, “get used to me Charlie, it’s you and me from here on out. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Mary was out of the car and into the shop in seconds. Which, incidentally, was as long as it took for the panic to flood the dark corners of my mind. Would she need a mundane routine someday to escape me too?

A few hours later, still climbing the walls of my apartment, I got another call from Will. I forgot to call him back. I panicked, I always called him back… today was not the day to fall out routines. I took a deep breath, shaking off the anxiety and picked up his call, “Hey Man, sorry I missed your call last night-”

That’s when the ringing in my ears came back.

I could still hear Will through the receiver, but it was distorted and crackling, the way a band sounds when you stand too close to a speaker at a concert.

Everything was coming out in pieces.

A jogger was running with her dog. 

That’s who found her.

Coffee splayed all over the gravel.

The last six days had been in pieces, too. We’d been drinking here at the bar every night since it happened- the hit and run. It made sense to have whatever sort of memorial service this was here as well.

Neither Will nor myself could stomach being at our perspective homes, so the bar was where we came. The pain in my shoulder had almost totally dissipated. But in my jacket pocket, I had the memorial program containing Mary’s photo and the timeline of her short years on earth, the last physical reminder that everything had changed.

Every night about this time, I come close to telling him almost everything. Once I’m far enough gone, I start to think how easy it would be for the words to slip out of my mouth.

But I never do. Mary was right, I couldn’t hurt a fly.

Will downs the last of his water, which is really a bottle of peppermint schnapps laced with ice water. The smell of mint hangs in the air even after he’s gone. I pull the memorial from my pocket and walk outside.

Out in front of the bar, I lean against the window, staring at her picture. The door of the bar pushes open, it’s a guy I saw talking with Will before the funeral, but I don’t really know him. He sees me staring at Mary’s picture and stops to say he’s sorry. Then he asks if I’ve seen Will. I tell him he’s around, that it’ll probably just be a minute. But the car he ordered is already waiting for him.

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket.

“I told Will I’d drop these by-“ he drops Will’s car keys into my hand, right on top of her photo. “I told him I was leaving in the morning to grab some parts up north, but with everything- could you remind him I’m leaving and that his car’s parked outside my shop? It’s all locked up and ready to go.”

I stare at the keys, how they block out the smile on Mary’s picture. The mechanic’s about to climb into his ride, but I stop him. “What was wrong with his car?” 

Ten minutes later, I was back at the bar. I finished my whiskey and signaled for another, my hands still gripping her photo. Will’s keys tucked safely in my pocket.

I can smell the peppermint before he even sits back down. I downed my new drink before I look at him, “she was perfect, you know?”

Will takes the coaster off the top of his beer, chasing down most of it with one long drink. “She was far from fucking perfect.”

I set the memorial program on the bar and dig his keys from my pocket. “These were left for you,” I slide them across the bar.

“Your car’s all fixed up.”

Will keeps his eyes turned away from me, setting his drink down on her program. No part of him seemed to care he’s leaving a water ring across her eyes. He stuffs his keys in his pocket and reclaims his drink.

I wanted to scream at him, but the way the ink bled was too perfect.  A pin-prick of black ink fell from below her eyes, and I smiled for the first time all week.

Her and her mascara, both still born to run.

He wouldn’t look at me. In fact, I can’t remember Will looking me in the eye all week. Here I was, still believing it was my guilt that kept me from looking him in the eye. Still thinking I wasn’t capable of hurting a fly. Or anyone.

Will called for his car home and stumbled off his stool towards the door. I watched him fall into his ride and quickly ordered a car of my own. But I wasn’t going home.

I plugged in his address, rattling off a goodbye to the last of our drunk, commiserating friends…

“Drink up boys, there’s demons out tonight.”

*Inspired by the song “Mary Was a Diamond” by the Boardwalk Saints