Back in 1975, I was working in the Book Department at Belk downtown. We hired two girls to work with me over Christmas. One was named Gail and the other was BJ. "BJ" was short for "Betty Jean", but she hated that name so she went by "BJ". She and Gail were college students on holiday break.
BJ took a liking to me. I wish I could have said the same about her, but my heart belonged to someone else, who will remain nameless. In 1976, I moved to Fort Worth, TX to start graduate school. BJ saw the movie "A Star is Born" and became enamored by Kris Kristofferson. She wasn't just a fan. She was a fanatic. Soon after that, I worked with Kris on "Semi-Tough" and wrote to BJ about that, having learned of her liking him. She was overjoyed. I had come in contact with her idol. A year or so later, she moved to Nashville to get a writer's job at Billboard Magazine so that she could get close to the music scene and somehow to Kris. She also had the notion that she could get Kris to stop drinking. She was delusional, but at the same time very creative. When I started working in the Record Department at Sanger Harris in Fort Worth, I got a few promo posters from RCA. One was of Kris. I sent it to her, and she just loved it, until she found out that Kris was with Rita Coolidge, and then she ripped up the poster and burned it.
BJ still had feelings for me though. From Texas, I would send her cassettes with music and thoughts on them, trying to bolster her spirits. She became very depressed. She would send tapes back to me, many of which were disturbing with her depressed mood. When I moved back to Columbia in 1979, she had already moved back from Nashville. She wanted to hook up with me, but my heart belonged to someone else, who will remain nameless.
After many calls and letters, I finally relented and agreed to take her out. It was my goal to tell her that she needed to move on. I took her to see the movie "ET". I must confess that I treated her like dirt. I am not proud of it, but it was the only way to get her to see that she wasn't for me. All of that went over her head. She didn't get the idea, so I just stopped talking to her. We started to drift apart.
Around the mid 1990's, she called me and wanted to know if I could come over to her apartment for dinner. It had been some time since our last meeting, so I agreed. When I got there, she was cooking the dinner. Apparently, she was not a good cook, because she burned the salad. Don't ask me how, but she did. The food was not good, but I tried to put on a brave face. She could tell I didn't like it, but I lied and said I did. I just didn't want to hurt her feelings. Her mental state was very fragile. We adjourned to her couch after "dinner", and she put her arms around me and thanked me for coming over. I did not want this to go to the next level, so I looked at my watch and said I needed to go. I upset her, but she let me go. I got in my car and drove all the way to Sumter that night. Why? I was having mixed feelings about BJ, and I knew I couldn't let this go on. I had to clear my head.
Two years later, I got the news that BJ had killed herself. The official reason was that she had been working at the Dept. of Social Services, and the plight of her clients had gotten to her personally, and she couldn't handle it. She became severely depressed again and killed herself. I blamed myself for her death. If I had only been nicer to her. If I had only listened to her, instead of running away. Would she still be alive today? Those feelings haunted me for a long time after, until I talked with a therapist in 2012. When I went to her funeral, I was sitting in front of two older women. In fact, I was her only friend at her funeral. Everyone else were friends of her parents. These two women were talking and said they had no idea that BJ had problems. They said she went to Carowinds a week before her death and seemed happy. I sat there getting mad. No one listened to BJ. They had no idea.
BJ wrote poetry. She had published a book of her work. When I was over at her place that night, she gave me a copy. The first poem in the book was called "First Love". She told me that it was about me. At her funeral, the minister read that poem. He said he didn't know who it was about, but it expressed her feelings in a meaningful way. I almost crawled under the pew. I was so embarrassed. A couple of weeks later, BJ's mother came over to my place with a shoebox. She said that BJ would have wanted me to have it. The box contained cassette tapes and letters that I had sent to her. It broke my heart even more. I still have them, although I no longer listen to the tapes.
Do I still have regrets about BJ? No. Do I have any feelings still for BJ? No. I only wish that she was still around. She made the choice to kill herself. I thought for a long time that I had been the catalyst, but she made the choice. She was very ill. I just wish she would have gotten some help. If you know anyone like her, listen to what they have to say. Maybe, they won't make the same decision BJ made. And, if anything good came out of her life, I can say honestly that I take the threats of others more seriously. I hope you will, too.
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