I didn't need someone like her, someone so deep, someone who cared so much. People like that only get hurt and I was just looking for a good time. But no, she had to keep torturing me. She always had to be there with those questioning eyes when my mother shot off or things slowly turned to shit. How did she know that's what I wanted, what I need? That day my mom called the cops she was there. "Ryan? Are you all right?" Her eyes stared into mine, full of concern and I felt myself fall, hard, for this girl. This girl, this woman in front of me with hazel eyes that stared into me. "No." I said to her and she sat down beside me slipping an arm around me. I cried and she let me. She didn't run or try to say anything, but just let me cry.
But I ignored her after that. Stayed away from her, because she was too close, too close to the truth. I flirted with her, touched her, joked with her, but fled the minute things got too serious. I never looked at her eyes again either. I didn't want to see the hurt, the pain I was causing her, because outside I didn't care, but inside I was beating myself up over it. I couldn't reveal that about myself, couldn't show how vulnerable I was. How weak.
She looked the other way and I didn't care. I found other girls, I had my good time but I still found myself thinking of her. I got used to ignoring her until the day came she wasn't in school. She never missed school, but what? I didn't care. I drove home in a car full of girls, laughing, touching, singing along with the music. I reached my house and looked across the street. Two cops were there....they looked up and saw me standing there. They walked over...slowly...came to me and asked me who I was. "Ryan...why?" Their mouths moved and I heard words. "...know her...to school with her correct?" I nodded. "......you know her long?....depressed...suicidal..." I stared at them, not understanding what they were saying. "What..what's the matter?" They looked up at me, then to each other. They put their hands up slowly....very slowly. "...son...." I heard only few words. "....suicidal..very depressed...dead....she committed suicide." NO! They're lying. I looked at them then towards the house, her house. The girl with hazel eyes. The girl who was gone now. My legs moved, carried me into the street. My mouth opened I screamed. "WHY???" Did I do it? Did she do it because of me? Did I kill her? The cops....they looked at me and shook their heads...."poor kid." I looked to them then towards the sky. "I'm sorry." I whispered. I had told myself I didn't care, that it didn't matter. But in the end it did. In the end she was the one person I cared the most about, that cared the most about me. In the end.
February 19, 2000
