He remembered. Nostalgia is a dangerous thing.
--- Ten Little Indians by Sherman Alexie
Last month I was rummaging through some old stuff in my garage and I found some kept-things from high school. In an old envelope I found something that knocked me on my ass. It was Laura's obituary.
In the fall of 1984, I was a sophomore in high school. I was shy, tall, and awkward. On the first day of school, I walked into my third period biology class and sat by a beautiful girl. On that morning, my crush for Laura sprouted.
She had long, dark blond hair with loose curls in it which framed her young beautiful face. I felt so bashful. Laura was the first to say "hi." I stammered out, "Hi." back. We then listened to the teacher start telling us about the class, grading, and other classroom items. I only caught half of what he was saying. Our lab table sat perpendicular to the teacher, so I had to look past Laura to see him. I could not help but look at her.
Over the semester we sat by each other every day for one hour. My teacher never changed the seating arrangement and I was thankful for that. One of my favorite memories was dissecting an earthworm with her. Dissections did not phase her. We joked during it, especially when I mangled the worm with my first attempt using the scalpel.
Laura was the quiet smart type. I was amazed by her dedication to school. She took all her books home every night to study. She helped me with my algebra homework if I got stuck. I loved reading her beautiful writing. Her penmanship was perfect, like reading music manuscript. Her writing style was flowing. I always have had an attraction for smart women starting with Laura. They are so attractive.
After class, we would head to lunch. On a few occasions we would sit together and talk. One day, my heart sank during a lunch chat. She mentioned that she and her boyfriend from another high school had gone to see a movie over the weekend. I could feel my crush turn into pulp. I guess I had to settle for the oh-so-familiar "being friends."
Over time it did become a friendship. I remember before we left for Christmas break, Laura gave me a candy cane with a simple note (which I still have) saying,
"K.,
Thanks.
Love,
Laura."
I smiled and told her, "Thanks." I was confused, but I was also 15, so confusion ran my life.
School started again on January 2nd, 1985. I sat by Laura at lunch and she was kind of quiet, but we had light chit-chat about Christmas break. After school, I was walking to my truck and I saw her walking out to the icy parking lot to her car. She wasn't carrying anything. I said hey and smiled and continued on to my truck. I don't remember what her response was.
The next day I went into biology and noticed her chair empty. After taking roll, the teacher said, "If any you have seen Laura since lunch yesterday, please go see the dean." I was worried and told the teacher I had to go.
I walked into the dean's office. Mrs. B was a middle-aged woman who cared about the students, yet could be very strict when times warranted it. She asked, "May I help you?"
"I saw Laura Steffanich at lunch and going to her car." I stammered out. I was so nervous because I knew something was wrong.
"Who sent you down?" she asked.
"Mr. K. I sit by Laura in class" I stuttered again.
From this point I remember every microsecond. I remember the angular winter sunlight pouring into her office and bathing her desk. The air in the office was dead still. I could smell the old must from the seventy year old building. I remember she touched my arm and directed me to a seat and shut the door.
Mrs B quietly sighed and looked down at her feet and then said with a soft voice, speaking slowly and enunciating each syllable, ."Laura killed herself yesterday. She jumped off the rims. They just found her body." I almost threw up. Other than my grandfather (who I had met once, when I was four ), I had never been so close to the death of someone I cared for. In fact Laura was the first person of my age that I knew who died.
"Was Laura acting funny at all?" she asked in a concerned voice. I was silent for an eternity.
"Are you ok?" she asked, resting her hand on my shoulder.
"Um... she didn't have her books after school." That was all I could think of.
After explaining why I said that, Mrs B. asked me to tell Mr. K. I walked the the long hall, up two flights of stairs in a deep haze. My mind could not think. I was in shock. The hallways stretched and dimmed into greyness. I shivered the whole walk, rubbing my arms unconsciously. I walked into the class and they were working on a lab exercise.
The class saw me enter and I must have looked like death myself. They were silent. Mr. K walked over and before he could ask, I stammered out, "She's dead. She killed her.." I could not finish the sentence. Those sitting in the front of the class heard me. A few gasped, a few screamed, and some started crying. All I can remember after that moment was Mr. K made a quick call to the counseling center and he and the counselor talked to us for the remainder of class.
After class, I went to Mr. K and tried to talk to him. He was rummaging through his papers and dug out Laura's last lab report she had written the day before. It looked like chicken scratch. The sentences were short, or just single words. It was not like her. I guess Laura already knew that it did not matter.
After school that day, I drove home taking the road through and over the rims. The rims are yellow sandstone cliffs overlooking the city. At one point, I saw where she had walked off her life. I could tell she died below there. The police tape was up and there was still a county sheriff's Ford Bronco parked by it. I was finally able to cry at that moment.
The next day I walked into class. The tables were in a completely different order and I was sitting by somebody else. That was the beginning of the fading of Laura.
Laura was the first student to kill herself that year. Two more followed within four months. By the time I graduated, another three classmates joined her.
Before writing this blog entry, I typed Laura's name into Google. The very first entry was this listing of Montana deaths in the 1980s. It was the only place her name came up. If you scroll down, you will find her. It says:
This is about all that remains of her for the world. One line in a genealogy website listing her date of death, and code numbers for her county and case file. I still remember her face and her sweetness. Sadly, even many of my memories of her have faded away.
It has been twenty-four years since that cold sunny day. When I saw the faded newspaper obituary for her last month, I felt that same feeling I had walking back to class. I didn't understand it back then and still don't. I thought people were supposed to die for a reason, a cause, a lesson... something with meaning. I guess some of us just die.
Thanks for the fine story.
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