Picture Perfect

22.

I do my best to hide my confusion and take the envelope.

I open in and inside are checks one for each of the last three transfers I made to her back account for the rent. And there's a letter, and a police report. Shit. She killed herself?

What the fuck have I done?

I run to the bathroom just a few feet away and find the first toilet, in which I throw up whatever my body is willing to let go off.

She follows me to the door.

"Why are you being like this? I'm trying to fucking talk to you Garrison!" I turn quickly and my eyes land on her sunken face. She cries a lot. She's a crier just like my wife. They are both very exhausting. My wife though I can understand, doesn't cry as much anymore and it's messed up to say, but I miss that about her.

Having to put her at ease was a weird way I think that bonded me to her.

But this one, she knows I'm married. She knows she's the other woman and that at any moment her role in my life could cease, regardless of what I tell her when we're fucking. She should know that she has no claim to me whatsoever right?

"Keep your voice down!"

She laughs. Oh that innocent little smile of hers looks more sinister now. I always thought she looked kind of like a cute little puppy. Like a baby beagle.

Even brown skin, big dough eyes, slightly pointed nose, not too much fat in the face, and very yappy. This one is interesting to converse with. She has so much energy and so much to say, but once she starts she won't shut the fuck up. Sometimes it's cute, sometimes it's annoying as hell.

And she's kind of tiny in frame, like a puppy.

"What, you don't want the neighbors to find out that Garrison "Gare Bear" motherfucking Reese has been over here fucking the life out of a college student while his wife lays in bed depressed all damn day!" She yells as if trying to make it known to everyone in the building.

I lunge at her and we end up on the floor, my hands around her neck.

"You alright man? You need some peppermint tea or something? I can hook you up?" The guy from the desk asks at the door.

I get up and get myself together.

"Sure." I tell him knowing that I'm in no rush to get back home and half to deal with this shit on my own.

He allows me behind the desk and it's kind of a vibe back here. Looks quite cozy for a desk job.

He's got his iPad set up and what not. The security cameras, oh, there's cameras in the hallways that I never noticed. One just in front of her door too. Or what was her door. Is that not illegal?

"You guys always had those cameras in the halls like that?" I ask taking a seat next to where he sat in the plush, high top chair.

"Uh, yeah." It's not long before he comes out with what looks like a non-branded Venti Starbucks cup that has two peppermint tea bags hanging from the side.

"Here you go boss." He tells me as he hands it over.

"Thank you."

"So forgive me if this is overstepping, but how did you really know Seraya? I was really familiar with her, she was always really pleasant. She'd come down for her mail, have tea with us, kind of like you are now. You know me and my co-workers are always told that we would make a great therapy practice cause we talk so damn much with the residents whenever we get a chance." He starts to ramble a bit.

And I believe it. Like he doesn't have to be so kind to me.

"But any whom, she didn't have a sad bone in her body seemed like. We have dog days here where we're allow to bring our dogs in and she'd come and take the pups out for walks knowing we're limited to 2 breaks and a lunch. Really sweet, I guess... I'm just wondering if you knew what happened that made her, you know."

I nod understanding him completely.

"I guess you're wondering whether or not this could've been my fault. You gave a camera right in front of her door. My guess is you guys know I'm not a "family member." I've actually been seeing her, for some time now. And-"

His eyes widen.

"Yeah dude, we know. And you stopped coming around so suddenly, and then she stopped coming around. The last time I saw her had to be a week before it happened. She came down for a package and I noticed something different about her. She had a new hair cut sure, but there was such a sadness in her eyes. I guess you'd think that anyone dealing with a married person would know not to catch feelings like that, but maybe you made it hard not to?" He asks.

I just sit in deep thought.

"I thought like that too bruh I'm not even going to lie. I did make it hard. I promised her shit I know I wasn't going to give her. This is on me." I put the cup down to support my heavy head with my hand.

"Don't cry buddy, we all make mistakes. No one is exempt from a fuck up. You may have contributed to her sadness, but when a person makes you their life or death, that's a choice they make knowing the risk. You can't let this put such a heavy burden of guilt on you. Feeling responsible for someone else's death is no small feat, and I would know. Even though I wasn't at fault, I hit a jaywalker a few years back when I lived in Florida. Hallandale Beach is known for that shit. People just walk out into the road and expect you to stop. I was on the phone with my girl and had just gotten off of work. We were arguing and I knew I had the green light so I wasn't really paying attention. I didn't see the lady just step off the median to walk across and I couldn't swerve. She died on impact. That's a weight that still hasn't lifted. Don't take on that weight man."

What if she lied to me? Samantha I mean, what if she's going to hurt herself and if I never hear from her again?