WHEN YOU KILL YOURSELF

May 25, 1994
Part 2

Eleven years later I was a junior at Saint Leo College, which is about twenty-five miles of Tampa, Florida. I was editor of the college newspaper and was back on campus to open up the paper's office and to cover freshman orientation. On my second day back I was in the administration building when the Dean of Student Affairs, Norm Kaye, waved me into his office. When I entered he said, "Tom, I'd like you to meet Anne Bennett. She's a new student, a transfer from Saint Petersburg Junior College.

Anne stood-up and held out her hand. Before me stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I knew immediately that she was a woman of grace and charm. She had angelic looks, long, light brown hair, bright green eyes and a radiant smile - a smile that could melt M&M's in your hand.

Dean Kaye told me that Anne lost a filling and asked if I had time to give her a ride to the dentist. I answered that I had plenty of time - and in my mind I thought that if her dentist was in Boston, I would have the time to drive her there and back.

On the way to and from the dentist, I found out that Anne and I shared much in common We had the same majors, literature and philosophy and would be taking many of the same courses and taking classes together a couple of times a day. Although I was captivated by her intelligence and charm, I was intimidated by her grace and beauty. But her sense of humor and quick wit relaxed me and by the time we returned to campus I realized that she was completely unconscious of her beauty. She was a woman of splendid substance with a playful presence.

There were a number of truly beautiful women on campus and most shared four things in common. They were self-centered, they were snobbish they were always consciously aware of their beauty and they had no brains - women with great bodies but hollow minds.

Anne possessed more than beauty and brains. She had a free flowing spirit that was genuine and endearing - and she never hesitated to express her inner most thoughts and feelings. She could be subtle and slyly self-effacing. Her smile was innocently sexual, her laughter buoyant, her mannerisms and body language were lively and playful and her facial expressions were wildly cheerful. But there were times when Anne's radiant brilliance was cunningly deceptive - disguising the darkness and discord of her soul.

We became friends on that trip to the dentist and as the weeks and months passed our friendship grew. We would go for walks or sit on the dock at Lake Jovita and share our thoughts and dreams. We would sometimes spend hours at Club '67, the college bar, drinking beer and arguing over politics and poetry. In time we learned that there were secrets we shared. Each of us displayed an outer toughness and self-confidence that concealed our inner weaknesses and self-doubts - and each of us suffered from bouts of depression and despair and had thoughts of suicide. With our darker sides exposed, it wasn't just secrets we shared, but the frightening fears of our fragile souls.

                                                               * * * * *

On Saturday evening February 15, 1969 I am in Club '67 drinking beer with my friend John - and I'm waiting for Anne to show up. When I'm on my second beer she shows up, wearing jeans, a pale pullover sweater and a light jacket. She glanced at me briefly, buys a beer and then sat facing me at a table about twelve feet away. Although our eyes met a few times, we didn't acknowledge each other.
This was a game we frequently played  - we would pretend, for a short time, that we didn't know each other. We were both experts and perfectionists in the art of deception and in our coyness.

In less than twelve hours we would go through the same ritual again. Only this time I would be haunted by its maddening memory for the next twenty-five years.

After a few minutes Anne smiled at me but I continued drinking with John. When I looked at Anne again she had a frown on her face, then she pointed at me and wagged her finger in a "come hither" motion. When I reached her table we both burst out laughing - we laughed so hard and for so long that tears began rolling down our cheeks.  We had a few beers and the she said, Let's go outside and go for a walk.

We walked to the Grotto. She put her arms around my neck and we kissed. Then looking up at me with a smile that offered heavenly bliss, she asked, "So, what are we going to do now?"

We spent the rest of the night together and enjoyed the pleasures of our bodies, the joy and happiness of remarkable love. Around 6:00am I drove her back to her dorm. As I walked her to the entrance, we stopped and kissed - then she hugged me tighter and tighter and whispered, "Tom, I love you." Then she kissed me gently on the neck and said, "I have a present for you. From her coat pocket she took out a small red button with white lettering and pinned to my jacket. It read, "I AM LOVED."

Then she kissed me and whispered again, "I love you," and quickly walked into her dorm. When she reached the stairs she turned around and waved. Then with a glorious and radiant smile, she pantomimed and mouth the words, "I love you."  Then she turned and sprinted up the stairs.

Two hours later I walked to the cafeteria for juice and coffee and sat with friends. A few minutes later I noticed Anne sitting by herself. We made eye contact  and mouthed the words, "good morning" and "love you," Once again we were playing our game of deception and coyness. A short time later she walked by my table and said good morning. I told her that I would see her later and call her. She replied with two words I will never forget, "sometime soon." As she walked away she turned and smiled. I never saw her again.

Why I didn't go over and join her that Sunday morning is a question I have asked myself  for twenty-five years. My only answer is that I just got caught up with the small silly game we played.

That Sunday afternoon I laid down to rest and ended up falling asleep - waking up too late to call Anne and to tired to do anything but to go back to sleep. The next day, Monday February 17, Anne wasn't at the classes we share nor in the cafeteria at lunch time. When she wasn't at her afternoon classes, I started to worry. I called her dorm and her roommate told me that Anne went to Tampa and would be back for dinner. I was relieved and looked forward to having dinner with her.

At about the time I was talking to her roommate, Anne was sitting on an embankment wall beside the Hillsborough River in Tampa. A gun was in her hand. She would soon put the gun next to her temple and pull the trigger.

May she rest in peace.