PEOPLE ISH: Epstein Suicide

EPSTEIN SUICIDE

   The banana I am eating tastes flat when Joy tells me, "He died in his cell." I am feeling angry and very cold.

  "How?!" I ask.

  Our favorite Alan Walker's song, Spectre becomes muffled and my ears are throbbing like everyone in the room can hear it.

  She shruggs, "He killed himself,"  I turn and prop my head to face her. She is sitting on my bed with me in her laps.

  "I saw it this morning."

  "From where? It's a rumour," I blurt, begging my voice not to crack, begging it to be a rumour.

  "NBC," she stops touching my hair to stretch and collect groudnuts, before exhaling, "it's everywhere."

  When I was younger, I was infatuated with America and confused by American news, who is Osama Bin Laden? And why do they always talk about him? Is he different from Gadafi? I would ask Dad as he argued on the merits of Gadafi's leadership, with his friend. And sometimes it was boring.

  I would drift to my room, hearing "Terrorism..." bounce off the walls of our house too many times.

  I twist my body to lay on my back, Joy's soft body under black velvet leggings still serving as pillow.

 I had followed the story, connected with the testifiers on social media, hoping justice would happen this time.

  She searches and gives me her iPhone to read it. The anger becomes a slow burning in my chest. I'm angry at the way he looks old and innocent.

  The coward.

  He was scared of the consequences. He was scared, like I would have been scared.

  Joy takes her phone from me and some more groudnuts. 

 

  She says through her occupied mouth, "Why did he do it, if ...The guy is just an idiot. Ahswear"

From: pixbay.com

  I hiss, then tease her, "Finish my groudnut oh!"

  My roommate asks me who we're talking about, I don't want to tell the story. Joy does, and my roommate is shocked, "In an American prison?!" She exclaims and adds something else to blame in our conversation, "wait fest, the man killed himself in an American prison?!!!"

   I have no answer to her actual question, How?

  I promise myself not to even check because I fear the bitterness that will come with knowing, I don't want to blame any other person besides him.

  "America, later they'll be hyping it." Joy slurs.

  My roommate scoffs, a sharp hum, I think it's at the American security service, it could be at Joy's chomping, it could be at the fat hanging off Joy's arms.

  Epstein's suicide brings out an instinct to protect her. I scoff back.

  I try falling into the warmth coming from her body and I do, but Epstein is still in my chest and this room is really tense.