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I could hear him clear his throat and take a few deep breaths. I could also hear Franks voice whispering something to him. Gerald, just like me, had known Michelle since the day she was born and known Reagan since Whitney first brought her home after school when she was in the fourth grade. He was always especially fond of Reagan because she loved sports so much, just like him.
"Reagans dead, too." He finally managed to spit out.
As his words passed from the phone into my ear, the whole world around me seemed to come to a halt; the ferries crossing the sound, the elevators going up the Space Needle, even the plane flying over my apartment building seemed to freeze in time. Suddenly I sprang up into a seated position as I felt my stomach convulse and my heart stop. I half expected to seem my stomach fly out of my mouth.
"What?" I gagged on my saliva.
Gerald again took another long moment to collect his thoughts, and his emotions, then proceeded to finish the story. Once the authorities identified Reagan, they immediately dispatched arresting officers to her house. However by the time they arrived, they found Reagan face down on her bedroom floor. The autopsy revealed that she had taken a massive amount of assorted prescription pills. By this time, I just couldnt take anymore. I told Gerald as much, and he said he would email me the newspaper story for me to look at when I felt up to it. I clicked off the cordless phone, threw it back into the living room, lay back on the sun chair, balled up in the fetal position and sobbed. I wanted Nanja. When I woke up it was still dark and I was shaking like a leaf in the freezing cold of the night. I went inside and saw the message light blinking on the answering machine. It was the pizza delivery kid telling me that he pounded on my door for nearly half an hour but nobody ever answered. I checked my watch and it was just after eleven oclock.
I took a long hot shower, all the while with images of Sherry, Michelle and Reagan racing through my memory. Then I began to wonder if it had all been a dream. I got out of the shower and put on my night shirt. I was just about to phone Gerald to confirm whether he actually called with such a story or if it all had just been a dream, when I suddenly realized that Detroit was three hours ahead of Seattle and that it was nearly two-thirty in the morning there. I turned on my laptop computer and logged in to check my email. An email from Gerald marked urgent, containing a large attachment sent just three hours ago confirmed that it wasnt a dream; Sherry, Michelle and Reagan were all dead and I had the front page of the Detroit Newspaper staring me in the face to
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prove it. As I read the attachment of the newspaper story, I suddenly realized that this was the first time since that night last March that Id actually seen Sherry, Michelle and Reagan; recent photos of all of them were on the newspaper page with the story. I once again found tears in my eyes as I stared at the pictures of Michelle and Reagan. They both looked so beautiful in their cap and gown graduate photos with sparkling smiles beaming at the camera. Sherrys photo too was quite captivating; sitting cross legged on one of the workout stations in the club.
It was just about one oclock in the morning when I finally shut off my computer and crawled into bed. I lay awake for a long while as my mind continued to spin. I tossed and turned for a good hour before I finally started to feel sleepy. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, a strange feeling came over me. It was one I didnt expect: Loss. I sat up suddenly and flipped on the lamp beside my bed as if I were about to argue with whomever brought that thought into my head. After all the suffering, humiliation and turmoil being involved with those three had caused me, how could I possibly feel loss over their deaths? With anger bubbling up inside me like lava, I suddenly heard Nanjas gentle voice whispering deep in my soul. She was telling me that I should feel loss; that regardless of how things had turned out, Sherry, Michelle and Reagan had all played a vital role in creating the woman that I am today. They altered the course of my life forever; and in doing so, perhaps in a very unique and remote way, they saved my life. And whether I realized it or not, I loved them all very deeply. Because for brief moments in time, I was an intimate part of each of them and they each were an intimate part of me. And despite the obvious twisted mentalities, how could they have brought so much unbridled passion into our sex encounters if they didnt have equally passionate love, or at least lust, for me in their heart and souls? With these thoughts passing through my soul, echoed through the gentle voice of dear Nanja, I drifted off to sleep. The next morning I awoke for the first time since that fateful March night, with Sherry, Michelle and Reagan holding warm and special places in my heart and memory.
I spent the morning at the library debating on whether or not I should fly back to Detroit for the funeral. I spoke to Gerald on my lunch hour and he told me that he didnt think it was too good of an idea. He had called Whitney to give her the news and she was coming home for the funeral herself. What he told me next sent my stomach into somersaults and my heart into
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