| Happy Birthday. Chapter 1 I guess it's a fore gone conclusion that these things aren�t meant to be long, but. . . it seems stupid to have a rule about such things, and I can't think of a better way to explain. Explain what? Well it's self evident now to whoever is reading this probably, but let me start at the beginning. (That is usually the best place after all.) I woke up this morning, and it was just like any other morning I suppose, only the sun was shining and I slept in and it was my birthday so I write off my happy mood to those happy coincidences. I got up, dressed, had breakfast and left for college. It had been so long (about two months now) since I�ve been in a good mood, so I decided to share it with someone. So, forgetting he was at work I called one of my friends before my lesson hoping he'd want to join me outside. "Never mind" I thought when he said he couldn't "I'll try someone else." Well, no one else was about and those that were didn't seem too interested in talking to me for long, but I tried not to let it get to me. "It's always like this between us" I told myself. "It's never bothered you before" Except I realize now that it has. You see, dear, whoever you are, I'm not very close to any of my friends. I wanted to be, but it just never worked out like that. I don't know maybe it's me. It got a lot worse lately, I was depressed after Emily left me. I got a little anti social and it seemed like no one wanted to bother with me anymore, what's that you say? I should have made more of an effort? Well, maybe you're right. Then again, maybe you're not, who knows. My parents say that people who don't have friends don't deserve them. maybe they're right. . . and maybe I'm one of those people. I should have gotten over it by now, since Emily and I broke up over two months ago, but something about it just. . . stayed with me I guess. It's not even that I miss her overly much, but she was nice to talk to. And her reasons for the brake up are ridiculous. The more I denied it the more she believed it was true! (Isn't that the most annoying thing ever? I hate that!) she thought I was gay. Shouldn't the fact that I was in a relationship with her, a *girl*, be testament to the contrary?? I can't figure it out. Well, things went down hill after my lesson finished. . . or even before I guess. Jordan Gray is in my class. I know him, I guess you could call us friends, and well I guess he thought I left the room because he was talking to some of the other guys. (I know them too, but calling them friends would be a lie by any stretch of the imagination.) So, I eavesdropped and heard what he said. It was about me. It was unpleasant. Let's leave it at that. I AM NOT trying to blame this on him, in fact it's not his fault at all. I guess it just made my unusually good mood turn in to a spectacularly bad one. It got worse on the train home. I don't know why, maybe I was just paranoid by then or something, looking for things to go wrong. I felt like everyone was staring at me. They may have been I don't know. All I saw in their eyes was disgust and pity mixed in to one sickening emotion and I could identify with them, I feel like that about myself. I got home. I didn't even slam the door, I just walked upstairs quietly. "You're useless, what have you accomplished? Nothing! Everyone hates you!" they'd say. The voices in my head. No, I'm not insane. you know, the kind of voices everyone gets, when they talk to themselves. Only I couldn�t control what I was thinking, and foolishly started talking back to them. "You're pathetic! Just put your self out of your misery." they said. God, in retrospect it seems so stupid. "If I kill myself, you die too!!" I reasoned, and this was really a turning point. I realized that it makes perfect and undeniable sense if I die, I don't have to put up with the voices in my head that are making me feel insane. I don't have to put up with people who are supposedly friends not having time for me. I don't have to live with this crushing feeling in my chest after Jordan burst my bubble about us being friends. (I can't work out why that one hurt so much. Maybe just my state of mind, or maybe because I'd never actually heard anyone talking about me behind my back before. Or maybe because Em thought we were so close. . . this is ridiculous!) And then, I don't remember how but I was sitting on the edge of my bed with an unhealthy amount of pain killers in my hand and a glass of water in the other. "Do it you pussy, you've chickened out of practically everything else in your pathetic life, at least go through with this." And I did. I felt quiet proud of myself actually. But I guess they haven�t kicked in since I can still type. . . I don't know what else to say after that, and my hands are getting kinda� tired, but no matter the explanation people give other people are always left wondering why? What could have been so bad? Well, let me elaborate on that point then. (Oh shit, this is really starting to hurt, my head is spinning. I�m scared) I wanted to die because...lol, let me start that gain, (And now I'm crying for some fucked up reason) No one is going to miss me. Not my friends, if I even have any, they'll probably feel sad for a while, in a superficial sort of way, and I don't mean to be cruel to them, it's just that we really weren't that close. . . My parents will be angry at me.. They have been for that last year or so. In fact maybe I should delete this whole thing and just write 'I sacrifice my soul to Satan' :) they're born again Christians, and ever since I started to dress myself, they decided I�m a Satanist. I�m not of course. Mom, dad, I'm sorry. I do love you. But you never understood me, though I like to think you tried. Bye. What else is there? I guess I regret going through with it a little, now. I mean, there�s no point, but . . .maybe it's just because I feel like shit at the moment. Understatement. It's taking me ages to type this. And it's frightening to think these are the last things I�ll ever say. . . not a great contribution to the world of literature is it. . . A minute ago I almost called the ambulance. But I didn't, I'd feel like even more of an idiot if I actually live through this, I don't think I could cope. And just my luck, the phone is ringing. I�ll tell you who it was in a minute. :::::::::::: "Hi!. . . I guess if you're listening to this I'm not there. Sorry I missed you, please leave a message after the beep." :::::::::: the end. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Chapter 2 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: "Come on, come on, where the fuck are you. . ." I wondered as I stood hoping from foot to foot on the platform, not out of any real belief that it would make the train get there faster but it did make me feel slightly less anxious. Why was I in such a rush anyway? I don�t know. All I can tell you is that I had a bad feeling, like the sort of feeling the coyote gets right before the acme rocket crashes. Finally the train pulled in to the station and I nearly knocked over an elderly man trying to get off in my enthusiasm. I wasn�t certain what I intended to say when I got there. I had to say something though. . . "Now, where does he live again. . .?" All this started earlier today when, at the end of my sociology lecture I stumbled on to the misfortune of having a conversation with the dumb and dumber of Hammersmith and West London College, also known as Charlie Franks and Emanuel West. Now, everyone else had left already and it was only us in the room (or so I thought) and I was pretty much just agreeing with whatever they had to say so I could leave. This ranged from Sera Hopkins� breasts to Casey Smiths� dick and the humorous aspects of their relative sizes. There was, like in most of their conversation (and I use the term loosely in reference to the crap that comes out when either of them open their mouth) had a vaguely sexual streak. Unfortunately. "Yeah, He�s a poof. He probably checks you out in the showers Jordan, I�d watch it!" I laughed. I missed the part of the conversation where he said who it was they�re talking about. I was too busy trying to decide weather the spark in their eyes was intelligence or some kind of medical condition. Probably the latter, I decided. Why was I taking this, you might wonder? Well, yes. I could be idealistic and tell them to stuff their stupid comments and their dirty jokes where the sun don�t shine, but then, my life would be a lot harder. Why bother? I was happy where I was. We were all on the sports team, why upset the balance of things? It�s not as if I had a personal crusade against them or anything, they�d never done anything to me. That�s when I caught another bit of conversation. "Oh Jordan! Would you go out with me? I want you sooo much!!" It took a while to dawn on me that it was an exaggerated imitation with a lot of lip smacking and eyelash batting and not an epileptic fit. "Get he fuck off me!" I yelled playfully, shoving him away. Charlie pretended to be put out. "Don�t you want me baby?" He said mockingly. "Hey man, if you want something up your ass so badly go find Richey!" And that was my mistake. You see, I didn�t really have anything against Richey, it was a sort of joke! He was the first appropriate name that popped in to my head as a couple of months ago he acquired a stigma. The rumor was his girlfriend dumped him because he turned out to be gay. No one really thought he was gay. No one really had anything against him being gay, least of all me, but this was college, i.e.: a large group of bored teenagers under one roof. Suddenly the expressions on their faces changed to admiration and amusement. In fact they were all but rolling around on the floor howling with laughter. What was so funny? It soon became clear. Not only did it turn out that it was Richey that Charlie was imitating to begin with, but also, as it happened, he was standing behind us, just inside the door. "Great." That�s all I could think to say, and they, sensing the lack of amusement at the situation in my voice asked my what the big deal was. That�s when I told them to stuff it and left. You�d think the crap I�d have to deal with as a result of that was punishment enough but I guilted my self in to trying to find him and explain, apologize even. I didn�t mean any of it! I had nothing against him, I like him and had no intention of hurting him, I simply didn�t know he was there!! We only have this one class together, but he comes by the gym every so often to shoot some hoops, and at the start of the year he couldn�t even hit the board, so he became my pet project, so to speak. We�d hang out when everyone else left and play one on one, and I�d give him a few pointers here and there. In fact, lately he started to show up late, after everyone else had gone, just for our little lesson. He was fun to be around. "And now he�ll think I�m a prick and wont want to play with me." Was what went through my head. Not entirely unselfish, but it sounded better to me than "I feel bad because I hurt his feelings." So here I was, walking down what I hoped was the right street looking for number 77a. I�d never even been here before, the only reason I even knew where he lived is because he used to go out with Emily and we were on the same course and she told me. I�m not sure why now. So, after I spent half an hour running around campus looking for him without success I decided he must have gone home. "ok," I thought, "no problem, I�ll just call him." No answer. Just his voicemail message. This is where I would normally have given up, deciding, quite rationally, to catch up with him later, except I didn�t. Instead I jumped on the first train to Camden and am now knocking at his front door. I was just starting to notice things like the gothic gold knocker and the chipping black paint on the door when I heard footsteps from the inside. It was all I could do not to barge past the woman who opened the door demanding to know where Richey was. -Hi Mrs. Page, is Richey home? The woman was wearing a flowery apron. This is the only thing I could notice about her. The vague impression of blond hair and blue eyes didn�t really register. It was the apron that threw me. This is not how I pictured Ritchies� mother. -Oh, come on in! You must be one of his friends form school, -Yes, Jordan Grey I cut in but I don�t think she was paying attention. -He is upstairs in his room, I heard him come in earlier. Will you be staying for dinner? Or are the two of you going out? (I kind of paled at that) -It is his birthday, so I suppose it�s alright. . She went on as she walked me down a corridor. It was his birthday? I felt worse. I smiled and nodded politely and went upstairs taking the "second door on the left". I knocked. No answer. I was about to knock again, but then that coyote feeling intensified and I just burst in to the room. - Richey? It was stupid, somehow I knew he couldn�t hear me, but I couldn�t think of the sensible thing to do here. He was lying on the floor next to the chair as if he�d just dropped out of it and fell asleep. Except he wasn�t asleep. In the eerie quiet of the room I dropped to my knees and rolling him over on to his back listed for a heart beat. There was none. I started to panic. "call someone, call someone, you idiot." My brain was screaming at me and I finally listened, tripping out of the door and yelling for Mrs. Page to call an ambulance. She rushed up stairs. I think she screamed. While she talked to the paramedics on the phone I sat on the floor next to Richey with my hand on his shoulder. I didn�t know what else to do. I'll never forget how he looked, lying there with tear traks on his pale face. I brushed blonde strands of hair out of his eyes. "No, he's not dead. He can't be." The feeling was surreal. What if he dies? Was all I could think. Mrs. Page gasped and put a hand over her mouth. I saw that her gaze was directed at the bed, and more precisely, I small brown plastic bottle that was on it. It took me a second to catch up to what that meat. When I did, I looked back at Richeys� face in shock. I was crying. I haven�t cried in years. I didn�t even notice, and then they were there talking in medical jargon that made the New York minute seem like the Hartfordshire hour and then they were gone. Mrs. Page must have gone with them I guessed. I was sitting on the edge of the bed looking straight ahead. The blurry out line of the computer screen was making my eyes hurt, but I didn�t look away. I just kept on staring at it, for no real reason, that is until it slowly swam in to focus. "I guess it's a fore gone conclusion that these things aren�t meant to be long, but. . . it seems stupid to have a rule about such things, and I can't think of a better way to explain. Explain what?. . ." I read it twice. Then I deleted it. Then, I rushed out side and took a taxi to the nearest hospital. :::::::::: End of part two. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Chapter 3 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: @}--;--- ---;--{@ Beep. . . Beep. . . Beep. . . Ok, That�s starting to get annoying. Hey! There is an afterlife. . .why is it beeping. . .? Maybe I�m in hell. . . The bible says people who commit suicide go to hell. "I think he�s coming round!" "oh, Richey, baby wake up, I�m right here, everything�s going to be alright." "Don�t crowd him, Elizabeth!" "I�m sorry young man, It�s family only!" "I just wanna know if his alright-" Jordie? Mom? Dad. . .? Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep. I�m in hell. I�m. . .Alive. :::::::::::::: Just as Richey Page came to realize this, along with the fact that he was lying on a bed surrounded by his parents, presumably a doctor and possibly Jordan, The fact the he�d have to explain himself struck him like a bucket of cold water. "What am I gonna say?" Mercifully, he was spared from saying anything for the moment, because the second he opened his eyes and a blurry image of the hospital ceiling swam in to view his parents smothered him with concern and affection. "my dad is hugging me. He *never* hugs me. Maybe I should try to kill myself more often." He saw the look of concern melt in to one of anger on his mothers face just moments before he was sure she would demand an explanation. -Mom, Dad? Can we talk later? I really tired. . . Mr. Page took a step back from the bed. He too had that look on his face, but in the face of his sons pleading eyes he relented that any explanation could wait until later. -Of course, son. You should rest now. Come on, Liz. His mother hugged him one more time and kissed his forehead. -We love you honey. Do you want us to stay? Mr. Page shook his head glancing at his writs watch. -No, It�s late, we�ll come back tomorrow morning and bring a few of your things with us. The doctor says you might have to stay here for a while. Richey decided that his father was definitely not pleased with him at the moment. He�d probably get a lecture about it later. He was about to ask how long a while but decided against it, in case they changed their minds about leaving him alone for now. :::::::::::: Richey watched as they walked out of the room, turning to speak to a balding man in a white coat, presumably the doctor. The light was off, but it was bright enough to see with the window being open and the glowing monitors humming all around him that he was beginning to tune out. Except that left him with no distraction. He�d only been alone for ten seconds, and already he was desperately trying to listen to the sound outside, the beeping of the heart monitor, Anything! Anything to keep his mind occupied. To keep him from thinking about *it*. "What am I gonna do?" That was the only thought that filled the void of his carefully blank mind, but it was enough. ::::::::: I was going to yell at him!! I was going to help him out with what he�d so nearly accomplished himself and strangle him for doing this!! I was at least going to ask him why!!? I wasn�t going to creep in to his room, see the tears rolling down his pale face while he stared at the wall and I wasn�t going to hold him and let him bury his face against my shoulder and cry silently. But that�s exactly what�s happening. The nurse wouldn�t let me in to see him before, and I�d sat there for six hours waiting to see how he is and I wasn�t about to walk away without seeing him being "fine, just fine" for my self. So, after his parents left I snuk in to the dark little room and he didn�t even notice. He was just lying there propped up on about ten pillows, staring blankly at the wall, hooked up to a myriad of noisy machinery that ticked and beeped a formless melody. I didn�t even say a word. Just walked over, all questions forgotten and sat on the edge of the bed, and then, he looked at me. Not like he was looking at the wall, no, really looked at me. His eyes, so full of pain and confusion stared at me for a moment as his lips soundlessly formed my name. And I couldn�t do anything other than pull him in to my arms. He�s sobbing softly, not really crying, holding back. -It�s alright, Richey. You�re alright. I�m so sorry. Oh, god, you�re alright. . . I don�t realize I�m saying these things but he does. He looks up at me again, and I�m tempted to hold him closer, not let him go, and I don�t understand. -That�s kind of the problem. . . He says. He�s smiling, only a little, but the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly just now, It breaks the tension. I smile back and realize I have tears in my eyes too. I�m not going to yell at him or strangle him now. I realize it�s not what he needs and I don�t even want to anymore. -Richey. . . I trail off. I don�t really know what to say, I just wanna help. He looks away, playing with the edge of the hospital regulation faded orange quilt. -Jordie, what are you doing here? He asks. Not a challenge, just curious. I smile and move back to a more comfortable spot on the bed. When I do this he almost reaches for me and I feel a pang in my chest as he catches himself and pulls back. -Well, I had to come in. when I found you *I* almost had a heart attack. I�m trying to lighten the mood, and I don�t know if it�s the right thing to do. -You? Found me. . .? This must be confusing for him. Fuck, it�s confusing for me. -Yeah. I came to your house, to, apologize for earlier. You know, saying that. Those guys are idiots, and I�m a bigger idiot for talking to them in the first place, well, I don�t think that�ll be a problem now, seeing as I told them to fuck off after you left. . . And here I am trying to make excuses, make myself feel better. I�m a jerk. -Well, anyway, your mom let me in, and I went up to your room and. . . I trail off. Not because I meant to stop, but because I just remembered what I was reading for half an hour before I left. -You fond me. He says after digesting what I�d said. I nod. I�m still trying to decided weather to bring up the note of not. He�s looking at me as I fiddle with a lock of hair and chew on my bottom lip. -I. . . I d don�t know what to say. Thank you. But I don�t He looked down fighting tears for a moment. -I don�t know what to do now. God, I�m so stupid! I reach up and wipe a tear off his face. I don�t know what I�m doing, just that if he starts crying again, I�ll hold him and get that feeling again, and I can�t deal with that now. -Hey. It�s gonna be alright now. They wanna keep you in hospital for a few days, for observation, you know? And then they�ll let you go home. Ok, that was meant to come out more reassuring than it did. -Yeah, so that my parents can tell me what a selfish piece of shit I am and send me to a shrink! *There�s* something to look forward to. He looked at me, paled a little more and bit his lip. -Jordie, I�m sorry, I know you- -It�d alright! I interrupt him as he�s about to apologize for lashing out at me, and he plops back against the mountain of pillows in resignation. I just think about how he always calls me Jordie and I don�t mind and if anyone else did it I would brake their nose and how I came very close to never hearing it again. -You have no idea how scared I was. I blurt out. And now he�s looking at me askance. -When I couldn�t find a pulse. You were lying there, and I couldn�t find a pulse and I thought. . . He knows what I thought. -I wish I was. His voice is so flat when he says that and I want to scream at him again, and he�s looking at me as if he knows and is waiting for me to do it! -Why? I take a deep breath and bite my tongue. I don�t trust my self to say more because my heart is beating a mile a minute and all I want to do is shake him until he realizes that he matters, to me, to his parents, to his friends, God, he is stupid!! Can�t he see how amazing he is??! And this is why I�m keeping quiet. I might just say all that to him and then he�ll tell me that no, he doesn�t believe a word of it. On top of that, I�ll have to admit to myself that I *do*. -You know why. You read it. . . didn�t you. I nod slowly. I can�t think anymore. -And now, mom and dad are gonna read it and I�ll have to explain- -No. They wont. He looks at me, startled and then understanding dawns on his face. -Thank you. I don�t acknowledge him for a minute, waiting for an explanation. It�s probably unfair of me, and he is upset enough as it is, but I want to know. Not for me, but I just want to know what stupid reason he came up with so I can *tell* him it�s stupid! -You never answered my question. He just looks at me. -Why? I mean really? Sighing in exasperation he turns away and mumbles about how he explained everything in the note. -No, that, was an excuse! I don�t believe you�d try to kill your self for fuck sake because you think no one cares!! I'm yelling. I can� help it now, and he has tears in his eyes, but he�s angry at me too. -So what?!! It doesn�t matter now does it!! I know, you don�t have to rub it in, I�m an idiot for doing it! I didn�t mean that at all. -And maybe it was an excuse! But trust me, my life that way it is now, is even more of a lie! He�s crying openly now. Gut wrenching sobs shake his thin frame as he tries to catch his breath and I�m about to yell some more, but I stop myself. I can�t be angry at him when he obviously feels bad enough as it is. -Richey -No! You�re right! Anyone else would be able to deal with it, but I can�t alright! There *is* something more. -Deal with what, Richey? I ask quietly, all I want is for this to be over, but he needs to get it out of his system. He�s so quiet now, still, as if he�s realizing something for the first time. -It jut got too much. I think I could deal with the rest of it, but Em. . . she, she thinks Oh is that what this is about? God, how could I be so stupid! -Hey, don�t worry about that, Richey, man no one really thinks you�re gay! He looks at me, wet eyelashes sticking together framing his too blue eyes. -You do. I was stumped for a moment. I do, don�t I? I�m about to deny it of course, he wouldn�t understand that I won�t care if he was, I like him. . . and now I�m stumped for a whole different reason. First, he�s not bothering to deny it, and second, I don�t want him to. I reach out to touch his face but he jerks away from me. I give him a pleading and very meaningful look, and hope he understands because it�s the best I can do for now and reach out again. He is still and unresponsive, but then I pull him closer again and he is in my arms and I just hold him. He�s smaller than me, he fits there perfectly and I rock both of us gently, without saying anything more until he falls asleep. I touch my lips to the side of his face, half unintentionally as I ease him back down on to the pillows. He doesn�t stir, just somehow manages to garb hold of my hand a wrap his delicate fingers around it. I guess I�m staying. I smile to myself, glad I remembered to call my mom and tell her not to expect me home and settle on the chair next to the bed. -Good night. I whisper softly to the sleeping boy next to me. I can almost make out his face in the near darkness and there is a faint smile on his lips. I start to wonder if he�s really asleep. I think he likes me. I think. . . I don�t mind. I think I like him too. ::::::::::::::::END::::::::::::::::: AN: Well, that was it. It�s sorry if anyone wanted some kind of resolution with Richeys� parents and what happened after and all, but this story isn�t really about that. It�s about how difficult it can be to deal with change when you feel like you�re on your own. Thank you for all the support. -Travis |