Page 114 - Contrast2012

Carolyn shifts away and Pam takes her place. Diane is stand-
ing at the other end of the room, looking as stiff as a board. Her jaw is
clenched.

"Sarah, I don't think that's something we should talk about
now;' Pam whispers.

"Will you at least tell me how he died?"

§

David Foster Wallace fucking hanged himself. He had a family
and wife that loved him. Legions of colleagues and fans. And he left his
body to hang for his wife to find. He didn't leave his brains spattered all
over the room, caked on his books, or anything like that. But he left his
wasted, evacuated corpse hanging around-waiting for someone else to
take care of the details.

It may be hard to predict the future. But it's not much of a leap
to think that people would be at least a little miffed that they had to
plan your funeral and publish your last, unfinished work.

Unless, of course, his last act was a creative one.

§

About an hour into the drive, I see a dead deer on the side of
the road. I pullover on the shoulder a hundred feet away.I can still see
it in the rearview mirror. Itake off my glasses. I can't stop fucking crying
for fifteen minutes. I'm glad I don't have any eyeliner on. I should be
feeling more than this. I should be feeling less than this. Anything but
nothing. I should feel like I lost something. I just feel disappointed in
myself that I'm not playing the part I was assigned. I should be doing.
I?ore. It's too much and not enough.

The dead deer means more to me than David-the deer had a family,
had meant to go somewhere, and would have crossed these roads plenty
of times before its final impact. He had a life that I can imagine. David
didn't even have that. He was never real to me, just ...

Disappointment.

I wipe my sleeves across my eyes. I can hear cars slow down
before speeding past me. I hear a honk. I put my glasses on. A man in
mid-sized sedan looks towards me. I wave and mouth, "I'm okay." I
point back at the deer. He nods and drives off.

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