This is an account of my best friend, Terry Suckow, who, in the early hours of December 20, 2010, took his life at a college party. I last spoke to Terry roughly at 11:30pm on December 19, 2010. I was the last phone call he made before he died. The following is how I have played out in my head how what happened the night in which Terry decided to take his life.
Flagstaff, AZ
December 19, 2010
9pm: Just finished eating the best meal I have had in the last 6 months: bone-in rib eye, garlic mashed potatoes, and grilled asparagus. Everything I have put in my mouth until this point hasn't brought me an ounce of pleasure. And I actually cooked for myself. Paired with this frothy IPA, I actually feel a shred of happiness.
Smile.
930pm: Slide into my favorite pair of jeans, shirt, shoes, hair combed, and clean shaven. I haven't been able to look at myself in the mirror for God knows how long. I actually look good tonight. I haven't been motivated to look this nice on the outside because I feel so ugly on the inside. I walk in front of the mirror and stare.
Smile.
10pm: Get into the car and spend the next 30 minutes sitting just to find something to listen to for the ride to the party. I flip through what seems like hundreds of pages of CDs looking for something that reminds me of hope, but I keep coming up empty. I haven’t been able to listen to the usual tunes; they don’t match my ever changing moods. Finally decide…Alkaline Trio – Good Mourning.
Smile.
1045pm: Arrive at the party. The usual suspects are crowding the living room and kitchen: Tom and Jeff are helping a freshman do a keg-stand while simultaneously talking shit about him, Jimmy and Liz are on the floor discovering new ways to get each other off without having to remove their clothes, Zack is in the kitchen pouring powerful vodka drinks for a handful of freshman females, Claudia and Marie are fidgeting by the stairs waiting for the bathroom so they can do another bump of blow. No one acknowledges my presents. These are my friends.
Smile.
1130pm: With a cold beer in hand, I step outside from the party and make a phone call to my best friend, Taylor, back in California. He picks up the phone and we bullshit for 10 minutes. I tell him how well I did on my English final (which he helped me out with), how happy I am that school is over, and that I will be going back home to Las Vegas soon. Taylor is excited for me and tells me that he misses me and to come out to San Diego and visit him soon. I tell him I will, but I’m lying. I wish him the best and hang up the phone. I am not happy at all and I won’t be going back to Vegas, but I will be going “home” very soon.
Smile.
1am: I have a solid buzz going finally. I shuffle around the living room and bump into Stephanie who is on her knees hovering over the mirrored coffee table finishing a line of coke. I apologize profusely and she says, “Don’t worry about it.” While giving me a cute, crooked smile I grab her hand softly and help her up off the ground. I grab her by the waist and bring her hips close into mine and kiss her. She responds to this well and kisses me back. After several minutes of making out and groping each other, I pull back and ask her to come upstairs with me. She says, “I would love to Zack…” She doesn’t even know who I am. Who am I? I am a soulless vessel. I am no one.
Smile.
2am: We are in Jeff’s bedroom and I am fucking Stephanie belligerently while she screams some other person’s name. I’m so drunk I’m not going to cum. I’m not even enjoying myself. I fling the girl off of me and stand up. She asks me if something is wrong and I tell her I am fine and that I need to use the restroom. I throw on my boxers and exit the room heading for Tom’s bedroom. I open the door slowly and to my delight it’s quiet and empty. I beeline to the closet, pull the door open and reach to the back left corner to find Tom’s pump action shotgun. The cold steel against my warn skin makes the hair on the back on neck stand up. This is it. With the gun in hand, I exit the room and move swiftly towards the bathroom, hoping not to been seen by anyone. Lucky for me, the party is raging so no one sees me enter the bathroom. I quietly close the door behind me and stare into the mirror and breathe a sigh of relief. I am at the most peaceful place in my head in the longest time. I am ready. I take a seat on the toilet and lift the gun to my head and place the barrel in between my lips.
Smile.