"The things that I do for this man," he said to himself, as he headed over to my house.
When he knocked on the door this time, I was just getting out of the bath. That was about the only thing I could do these days. I would drink some tea, watch The View, grumble about hating Rosie, take a bath, eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, sob, repeat. Oh, occasionally, I would make it to watch R&R featuring Rachel Ray, but that was rare.
So anyways, I pulled on my fuzzy purple bathrobe, rung out my hair, and headed for the front door. Do you think I was concerned with the way I looked? Usually when someone came, I had ice cream all over myself, from crying while eating it, and I had red, puffy eyes, and tear stains all over my face. Damn, I looked good today. It was 10:30, and I wasn't due for a cry until noon.
I smiled at Novak as I let him in.
"You look... dressed and ready for anything," he said, eyeing up my attire.
"When youre becoming a manic-depressant, this is how you look," I told him.
"You're going that crazy over this whole thing," he asked, becoming uncomfortable.
"I'm kidding," I laughed it off. "But I have gained fifteen pounds."
"Eh, that's alright, you were skinny to begin with."
I could feel myself trying to make a light joke, but I just wasn't in the mood.
"Anyway... I came here to talk.... About Bam," he looked uneasy.
"Don't worry about it, I'm not going to burst into tears, or threaten suicide or anything like that. I'm slowly coping. I think I'd like to talk. Maybe it'll do me good."
He took my arm and led me upstairs. This was unusual. My 'talk about the deceased' spot was my couch. Easy escape out the front if things to too rough, easy access to the kitchen for tissues. All around, a good crying couch if you ask me. And you should ask me, because since I found out that I killed off my boyfriend, yes, I'm referring to Bam as my boyfriend now that he's dead and all - I figure I owe it to him since I did drive him to suicide, I've been doing loads of crying.
"You alright," Novak asked.
I didn't realize it, but we were in my bedroom already.
"You seem to be spacing out a lot lately."
I shrugged, "death'll do that to ya."
"You are absolutely morbid," he joked.
I shrugged again.
"Speaking of morbid," he said, finding an interesting segway into whatever he'd come over to talk about. "I think Ville Valo knows what happened to Bam."
"We all know. He cut his wrists because I told him I'd much prefer him dead. Remember, you showed me?"
"No," he shook his head, "he... Just... Read this," he pulled a packet of papers out of his coat pocket and set them in my lap.
At first, they just looked like random song lyrics pulled off of the Internet. Then I noticed that they were all of the lyrics from HIM's new album. Further inspection showed that they were focusing on betrayal of a loved one, and suicide.
I set them down; I just couldn't deal with this right now.
"I didn't mean to be the one to show this to you," Novak began gently. He thought to himself for a moment. That's when he realized that he had no reason to show this to me, had Bam really been dead. He had to come up with a really good lie, and fast.
"I just, thought it might bring you some comfort.. .to, uh..."
"To know that Ville fucking Valo is making millions off of the fact that I suggested Bam kill himself? Yeah, thats quite a comfort. I'm glad you told me. I'm glad Ville's going to be getting that beach house in Tahiti now, all thanks to me and my damn mouth," I spat back at him.
"No," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I guess I just figured that you still may be in denial about Bam's whole death thing, and this would prove to you that he really was gone. Maybe it'll help you get over him a bit better."
"Novak," I looked at him squarely, "you don't just 'get over' your boyfriend dying like that."
"I thought you didn't like him," Novak said, secretly excited that he may have been getting somewhere, so that the charade would end sooner.
"Let's not talk about this now," I said, ending the conversation.
He nodded.
"I'm sorry to have brought this up," he told me, standing to leave. "I can show myself out, you get back to your bath."
He headed downstairs, I didn't say a word. I really did want him to stay, but I needed some alone time, some time to think. And play Sherlock Holmes.
Conveniently, he left the stack of papers on my bed.
It was later that afternoon, after I'd gotten dressed and bought a case of Cherry Garcia from the store, that I started my investigation.
I looked up tons of recent pictures of HIM, what people where saying about their lyrics, and for kicks, how to portray someone's death through media. Boy, did I get a good one when the Google hits came back. I'd forgotten that The Beatles had done the same thing with Paul McCartney's supposed death. Though, there really wasn't a car accident, and Paul really wasn't dead. It was one big craze in the 1960's, along with the drugs their fans where taking. That could be the only thing that would induce such investigating. Other than if one of the fans' boyfriend died who had connections with The Beatles, and they were trying to find out if it were true or not. Gee, wouldn't that sound like a familiar tune?
Granted, I fully believed that Bam was dead. I knew in my heart of hearts that he was dead, but somehow he was still here with me. I knew that someday, I would have the chance to forgive him, and I could beg for his forgiveness. But that day was far off. For my sake, hopefully very far off. But I was so intrigued by what Novak had brought to my attention, along with what I'd noticed a few days earlier, listening to the album, that I just had to know for sure. I read the article about Paul faking his death, and compared it to the things that HIM was doing currently. But what I didn't realize was, that Ville had a deep seeded hatred for The Beatles, so he would never have copied something that they did, even if it was the memorialize one of his friends. But Bam certainly couldn't have been behind everything. All of the theories were swarming around in my mind.
I finally decided that Novak had something to do with it, and talked Vile into it, since nobody else could think of a way to remember Bam in as extravagant of a way as he did everything.
To you, it may seem like I wasted the entire next week. But I felt like I was getting closer to Bam while I researched.. I felt like part of the plan, somehow. Or I felt like I was solving the mystery of his death, even though it was no mystery. I felt like we became closer in the week that I spent looking this stuff up. Little did I k now, I got that feeling because just weeks prior to me looking it up, hed done the exact same thing.
........
Thank's a bunch for reading, gang!
