Chapter Two
About the Author
Special Announcements
Order Pieces of White
Pieces of White continued
Of Another Time
Of Loves Lost
Theatre of the Mind
New Poems
New Poems
New Poems
Beauty of Death
Short Stories
Life With Father: A Personal Story
In Tribute
The Beginning
Guest Poet of the Month
Favorite Links

Seven Days Of Vivian




Sunday Morning



Vivian never wanted much.  No white picket fence, no house in the country, no expensive small dog.  All she wanted was to kill herself.

From a child wandering the West Virginia hills to the strange streets of  Detroit, she  dreamed of it.  Imagining  a leap off a tenth floor, slitting her wrists in flight, perhaps between the fifth and fourth floors.  Less blood, less splatter.


So here she was.  Trying for the  hundredth time.  She slit her wrists so many times that her blood now  instantly coagulates at the slightest cut. Pills did nothing but put her to sleep for days at a time and she always awoke, days later, with a headache and pissy pants.  She even tried running into the street in front of a bus.  That didn’t work either, the bus swerved, hit a pole and Vivian went to jail for ten days for causing an accident. Once, she stuck her head in the oven and turned on the gas.

The man in the next door apartment smelled gas, broke down her door and rescued her.  Vivian was really pissed that day!  She was going to try something new today!


 She moaned with climatic ecstasy, pink sheets twisted tightly around her neck.  Tipping the stool beneath her, she swung in silence, back and forth, white lights of death shone bright for an instant before fading to black.


Her eyes opened abruptly.

“What the fuck is happening here?  Where am I?  Am I dead?

A distant voice, floating into numbed ears answered.

“ You are in the hospital Miss.  You apparently tried to end your life...do you remember?”

Vivian rolled on her side, turning away from the Doctor who stood beside her.

“ Of course I remember you idiot...how could someone forget wrapping a damn sheet around their neck...who took me down?  Damn it, can’t a person kill themselves without some jerk trying to be a good Samaritan?  Thanks for nothing you meddling bastard.”


“ You’re welcome, glad I could help.”  The Doctor left the room, muttering, slamming  the door hard behind him, rattling the windows, rocking the intervenes holder.


Vivian’s eyes came to rest on a fly walking the ceiling. “ Fall you bastard.”


Outside the tenth floor window the sun shined warm, the clouds floated by in blissful passing.  As she looked at the toy cars and little people below, a smile crossed her face.  “ Oh yeah,” she said aloud, “ if I can only get this window open now....”

Before she could try, another one entered the room.  A tall dark man in a long white coat.  His eyes were menacing and bloodshot and large busy eyebrows covered them to the pupils.  “What the hell do you want?” she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed. He glared at her for an instant, taking a white handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and blowing into it with a rude growling noise.  “Damn...what are you trying to do, kill me with your fuckin’ germs?”  The man in the white coat folded the handkerchief neatly and returned it to his pocket.

“No...I am allergic to irrational people...you know, people like you...”

“Very funny Dr. Quack, now what the hell do you want?”

The Doctor sat down on the chair beside Vivian, adjusting his white coat so that he could cross his legs, revealing yellow socks and red shoes.  Vivian’s eyes began at the shoes and glided past the socks, over the brown cordaroy pants and finally came to focus on his large busy eyebrows.  She smiled before grinning before laughing.  “You get an award for that outfit, you know, like first place for the most fuckin’ ridiculus garb that one could imagine?  What did you do, go through the dirty clothes hamper with dark glasses on?”

The Doctor was unshaken.


“My name is Doctor Small.  S-M-A-L-L, like your brain, and like it or not, I have an evaluation to do on you because you are suicidal.  I must ask you some questions and I am required by law to assess your answers before I make a recommendation to the psyciatric department to release you or bind you in a straight jacket...it makes no difference to me one way or the other which way I go so if you want to get out of here so you can go jump in front of a fast moving train, I suggest you shut up, listen, and answer my questions!  Is that understood?”


Vivian rolled her eyes momentarily, realizing that the best thing she could do was cooperate with the bushy eyed man and get on with the business of dying.

“Okay, okay Doctor Little, ask your stupid questions and get the hell out of here!”


“The name is Small, and I am happy we understand each other.  I am going to turn on this tape recorder for the interview process.  Answer the questions honestly.  If you don’t have an answer, say ‘ no comment.’  Is that understood?

“Yeh, yeh, let’s get on with it....I am bored already!”


The Doctor turned on the recorder and began speaking into it “ Today is Sunday.  The time is three forty seven P.M. My name is Doctor Billy Small, a....  

Vivian interrupted, laughing, “Did you say you are really Small?”

Again Doc gave her a menacing stare before continuing.  “ I am in session with Ms.

Vivian Conrad who was admitted at ten forty five A.M. Sunday for attempting to take her own life by hanging.  I have the permission of Ms. Conrad to proceed with this evaluation and verbal approval is now made by patient, Vivian Conrad.  Ms. Conrad, do I have permission to continue with this interview?”  Vivian sat smiling.

“Please state your full name and affirm that you are a willing participate in this interview.”

“Oh for Christ's sake, what the fuck do you want from me.....okay, my name is Vivian Lee Conrad, I am 19 years old, I live with my cat Simon in a one room apartment in Yonkers.  I am unemployed, don’t have a car, no friends, eat hot dogs and beans every day, smoke butts from the street, listen to the radio when I can find  batteries, sleep naked and lost my virginity when I was twelve to Johnny Tucker the fucker. I haven’t seen my Mother since I was fifteen, don’t know who my Father was and don’t give a shit and I make a few dollars here and there giving blow jobs to Ahab the Arab at the corner store.   Now there....you have my whole fuckin’ life story...can I go now?”


The Doctor never blinked.  “That's all very nice Vivian.  You told me a lot already, but you didn’t answer the question, do you give your permission for this interview?”


Vivian glared back...” Yes asshole, yes...ask your stupid questions already!”


“Fine.  Please answer honestly and we will be finished as quickly as possible.

Doc placed a sheet of paper on a clipboard, leaned forward and asked the first question.

“Have you tried to take your life more than once?”

“ In the same day, or what?”

“Just answer Vivian, just answer the question.”

“Yes, about a dozen times.”

“Thank you!  Why do you feel it necessary to take your own life?”

“Are you fuckin’ nuts?  Well lets see, I am broke, I am living in squallier, I don’t have a family, no body cares about me, including myself, I have to suck Ahab to pay the rent, my fuckin’ cat has fleas and I hate hot dogs and beans....don’t you think that’s reason enough?”

“ It isn’t important what I think, I need to know what you think.  Why don’t you get in touch with your Mother?  Do you know where she is?  Would she be willing to let you come home?”

“ Hey, that’s too many fuckin’ questions all at once....no comment.”

“ Do you have to use such profanity?  Can you try to answer without using that F word?  It is very irritating..”

“Well so are you Bushman but you don’t hear me whining do you?  Just ask your damn questions.”

“Why did you leave home in the first place?”

Vivian’s face showed a sudden yet self concealing trace of sadness.  She sat up straighter and looked toward the window, carefully searching for the correct words, it seemed, before answering.  “ Oh I don’t know.....I guess it was time.  I just turned fifteen, my Mom was always questioning me, where I was going, when I was coming back, who I was with, why was I wearing the clothes I had on, you know, dumb stuff just to fuc.....sorry, just to screw with me.  She smothered me, I couldn’t even go to the damn bathroom without telling her......it was just time to go, that’s all.  Just time to free myself..........”

The Doctor was writing on his clipboard.  Vivian got up and walked towards the window once more, looking down upon the ant-like creatures below.

Just then the Doctor’s cell phone rang and after a brief few words said “I have to go Vivian, something came up....I’ll be back later this evening or tomorrow morning.  I’ll send a nurse in with some sedatives for you....help you to relax.  I’m turning the recorder off now.”


Vivian never turned as the door gently shut behind her.  Still intrigued with the ants and the toy cars below, she stood very still and motionless at the window, the world passing by far below.