They ask me about it, how I found him, how I’m feeling, do I need anything?
I answer, monotone, numb, eyes ahead. My brain trying to process it at a speed it can so I don’t break down.
“I’m fine,” I tell Dad before he asks. He squeezes me to his chest so tight I can hardly breathe. “I’m fine.”
He gets mad at the principal, as parents do. He wants to know how this happened, why it happened, what is he going to do to protect us from it happening again. But I just want to go home. I need something to help me forget his face.
“Baby, I am so fucking proud of you, you saved that boy’s life,” Dad says as we’re driving home. I don’t even know how I got in the car.
“It was nothing,” I reply.
I shut off and plug my headphones in and I don’t yank them out. Not until I’m in my bedroom and the door is shut, my music is blocking out all of the noise via my speakers and I’m on the roof outside with a joint in my hand.
I inhale it slowly, relishing the tingling feeling inside of my brain.
When it doesn’t slow my rapid heart, I throw it away and lock my arms around my knees.
Then the music turns down. I know it’s him. I know it’s Travis.
Dad won’t bother me now. Shonda won’t either.
Travis doesn’t care about my boundaries and need for space, and truth be told, I’m craving his closeness.
He sits beside me and looks where I’m looking, directly at the small slither of ocean we can see in the distance between the spaced-out homes.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“You must have been terrified.”
I shake my head again. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Worse?”
“My mom killed herself, Trav. She had bipolar one with severe episodes. Infrequent, but severe. We couldn’t save her.”
He wets his lips and for a moment I contemplate kissing them purely so I don’t have to keep talking. “Your dad told me.”
I frown at that. Dad promised he wouldn’t say anything. “What else did he tell you?”
“That he walked out the night before, tired of your mom and the things she was doing. She killed herself in the night, and the next morning you found her in a pool of her own vomit.” He places his hand over mine. “He said you went to school as though nothing happened.” My eyes blur with tears. “Because you couldn’t cope with the reality so you tried to block it out. It was that same day I gave you that stupid note… I didn’t know about any of it. If I’d known…”
“You’d what, Trav?” I level him with a sad look. “You were a victim that day too. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could reverse the hurt I caused you.”
I remember him that day, all shy and hopeful, with his huge glasses and his shaggy hair. He was the only boy who came to me with their love note and waited for me to fill it in.
“Will you be my valentine?
Yes
No
Maybe”
I didn’t tick the little boxes to give him my answer. I snapped. Completely.
I tore the note up and threw it in his face. I told him I hated him and that he was a stupid dork and no girl would ever like him because he was ugly and stupid. All fourth-grade insults but all of them stabbed him like a knife and I watched him crumble.
His bottom lip quivered, and his eyes filled with tears.
Two hours later, Dad got home, found Mom, called the cops and they estimated she’d been dead since around midnight. He knew I’d found her, knew I’d left her there, knew I’d acted like nothing had happened and the psychiatrist his health insurance covered for only five sessions deducted that I believed that by acting like nothing had happened would make it so.
But we never spoke of it. We never told anyone but the shrink what I’d seen. Because if we did, they’d always ask and I’d never be able to pretend.
“You must have been in so much pain.”
He shuffles closer until we’re shoulder to shoulder. I stare at my neighbors’ window across the way wondering if they can see us, see how close we are. Do they suspect? Do they think it’s wrong? Do they even know who we are and what we are to each other?
“You’re not okay,” he states simply, letting his legs hang over the roof edge beside mine.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“I can see through you.” His tone is calm but firm and I feel my body tense. “Don’t lie to me, Raven. Don’t do that.” He turns to look at me and forces me to do the same, with his hand on my cheek, making me look at him. “Don’t mistake me for Lake and the other morons that believe you purely because they don’t give a crap about you. They want you to be okay so they don’t have to deal with your pain. I want your pain. Give it to me. Let me share it. Talk to me.” My tears spill over. He wipes them away with his thumbs and holds my eyes with a heated hazel gaze. “I do give a crap about you and I’m telling you right now that if you lie to me and it leads to your heartache, I’ll never forgive you or myself.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
“Okay? Don’t lie. You tell me. Always. How you feel. I don’t care how unreasonable you might think it seems. I don’t care how stupid you think you sound. I’ll listen, and I won’t judge. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
An urge so powerful pushes through my body, commanding me to do something I wouldn’t ordinarily do. I lean forward before I can stop myself and press my lips to his. My mind is screaming at me to stop, that it’s wrong. While my body and heart rage with the fact that it’s right. So right. If only for a moment.
My eyes squeeze shut, daring not to catch a glimpse of his rejection.
But then, this magical feeling happens. His stiff lips soften, and he utters the slightest of moans as his head tilts a fraction of an inch to the right, and it’s as though an explosion alights in my brain. Suddenly I can’t think of reasons why I shouldn’t kiss him and can only think of reasons why I want to.
His hand grasps the back of my neck and holds me tight, so tight I can hardly move my lips.
He groans as though he’s in pain, but really, it’s desperation and it mirrors my own so completely. I’ve never felt this parched for a taste of somebody else before, not since the last time we kissed.
His tongue tastes mine, pushing with equal fervor. He tastes so sweet, he smells delicious. I could kiss him for hours. I might never stop.
We pull apart when a door slams shut somewhere outside, it reminds us where we are and who might see.
“Will you take me to the hospital?” I ask quietly, choosing not to talk about the kiss we just shared.
He tilts his head as though trying to read me better. “To see Brett?”
“I need to erase his face as it was from my memory.”
“By creating a new one?”
Nodding, I rest my head on his shoulder and he kisses my hair. “I’ll take you. Just say when.”
“I didn’t know he was depressed. He’s always the life of every party, so full of energy.” I sniffle, letting more tears drop. “I knew he was having identity issues, but not enough for him to kill himself.”
“People only let you see what they want you to see.”
I hold his hand in both of mine and let my emotions take over for a while. Travis feels like my safe space right now and I’ll take his comfort for as long as he gives it to me.
“When,” I say and Travis slowly stands, helping me up right after.
The sterile hospital with its salmon-pink floors and walls has me on edge. I’m not a massive fan of hospitals, not that I’ve ever spent much time in them. They just creep me out. All I can imagine is the ghosts of those lost littering the hall, screaming at the living as we walk through them.
Travis stays close for comfort, letting me use him as my crutch as we’re greeted by a man that looks exactly like Brett, a man I already know is his father. I almost lose it at the sight of his heartbreak but I remind myself I’m here to be strong for
Brett, not weak.
His father whose eyes are red-rimmed and swollen hugs me the second I tell him my name.
“Thank you,” he whispers and then Brett’s mother does the same. They both look so weighed down by life right now.
I bet they were as surprised as the rest of us by this.
Or at least, I hope they were. Too often these days people sweep their mental health under the rug and too many people die or suffer life-long problems because of it.
The moment that door opens, showing Brett in a hospital bed, with a dark bruise around his neck and heavily bloodshot eyes, I stop still.
We look at each other and my eyes blur again. So many tears. Such a shit day.
“Do you hate me?” he asks feebly, his voice cracked and as broken as he is inside. “I thought you’d hate me. I wouldn’t blame you. You were the last person I wanted to find me.”
Because he knows about Mom. Not the part where I found her, but the part where she died from suicide. Everybody knows. The only reason nobody says anything is because whenever they do I kick the absolute shit out of them. I’ve got no chill when it comes to my mom.
Way I see it, depression is as bad as cancer. You fight it until you live or die and there’s always the chance it’ll come back.
Maybe I’m naïve though. Maybe I’m totally wrong.
Moving to the bed, I take his pale hand in mine and squeeze it tight. “I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit.” A lump rises in my throat and God it’s hard to talk and breathe. I choke back a sob and tears spill free falling down my cheeks in heavy waves. “I should have known. Out of everybody at this school I should know the signs.”
“Honey, even I didn’t know the signs,” he whispers and pats the bed beside him.
I climb on and snuggle into his side. A boy I’ve known my entire life, but never really saw until now.
“Are you going to tell me how stupid I am?” he asks, and I hate how scratchy his voice sounds.
“You’re not stupid, Brett, you’re sick. And I’m going to help you get better. I promise.”
He looks at Travis as though seeing him for the first time. “Hey, Stepdork. How’ve you been?”
“Better than you apparently,” Travis replies, and Brett laughs a husky, sore-sounding laugh. “I’ll give you guys some space.”
When the door closes behind him, Brett rolls onto his side and we face each other on the narrow bed. His eyes are so red, they look like something out of a horror movie. The blue irises are shadowed by thick, bloodred bands that create streaks of lightning to his eyelids.
“You saved my life,” he states. “I owe you so much. I thought I wanted to die, I was so sure, but the moment that cord tightened on my throat, I regretted everything.”
I smile at him and it’s genuine. “I only did what anybody would have done.”
“No, you only did what you would have done. Cella fell on the floor screaming, remember?” We both laugh, even though it’s not really all that funny. “Is she okay?”
“She’s already speaking to the media about it. She’s fine.”
“But not you, you’re not fine, I did that, and even though I did that…” Brett mutters, “your first thought is to come and see me. I wish I’d realized how good a friend you are sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so lost.” His chin trembles and he starts crying again. It breaks my heart, so I take his hand in mine again and hold it between us.
“We’ll get you better, Brett. I promise. I won’t let you down now. We’re in this together.”
He kisses the back of my hand and a teardrop falls from the tip of his nose onto my knuckle. “I believe you.” We smile at each other, until he then says, “So come on, tell me some juicy gossip. I need to give my brain a rest from my own shit.”
“Well.” I glance around the room to make sure nobody is in here with me. “I kissed my stepbrother today.”
His jaw drops before a smile stretches his face. “You kissed Stepdork?” I nod. “Holy fucking shit. And to think I almost died and missed this.”
At that I laugh again, it’s weak but it elevates my mood some. I’m glad that he’s still got some of his old fire.
“What’s he like? Can he kiss?”
“Bae, let me tell you, I’ve never felt a kiss like it.”
The door opens, startling us both and I panic thinking it’s Travis.
Luckily, it’s Brett’s mom, she smiles when she sees us and out of respect I sit up and climb from the bed. I can see she needs time with her son.
“I should go, text me, yeah?”
Brett nods and tears fill his eyes again. I can imagine he’s feeling really emotional right now. I’m shaking with it. “Thank you, Raven.”
His mom hugs me again, incapable of stopping herself and I return it knowing she needs it. As soon as she releases me I blow Brett a kiss and exit the room.
Before the door closes, I hear him say, “Mom, if she was a guy, she’d be perfect for me.”
I laugh to myself again and meet Travis who is waiting for me, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand.
“You ready?” he asks softly.
“Just say when?” I jest, trying to perk up a little for him.
He returns my smile. “Just say when.”
“When,” I reply, taking the hand he offers.
* * *
“Whatever you want to eat, you tell me and I’ll make it,” Shonda says while hugging me. We only arrived home thirty seconds ago and already I’m being accosted and praised.
It feels wrong being thanked for saving somebody. It feels like I’m reaping the rewards of their tragedy. It calls for bad karma in my opinion.
“I’d rather just things go back to normal,” I mutter, brushing past her. Not because I want to be rude but because I just need time to myself. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”
“You can sleep in tomorrow if you need the rest,” Dad says, before I reach the stairs. His eyes that look so much like my own are full of so much sorrow and pride.
“Sooner I go to school the sooner people stop talking about it.”
He lets me go at last.
I finally finish painting my bedroom, have the hottest shower I can handle, and then crawl into bed with my headphones in.
Even in sleep I can’t escape his face. Brett’s bulging eyes and panicked expression. It flickers between his and my mother’s. Her eyes were open too, but she wasn’t panicked, she was void of life. Glassy and emotionless.
I wake up as they both scream at me for help with their different expressions. My body is tense, stuck in the fetal position.
I start crying again and shaking as all the feelings I felt in those moments come flooding back. My grief is so potent. So strong and unrelenting.
For a moment I feel angry at Brett, his choice brought me this pain, it resurfaced these memories. Then I get over that because he’s sick. Like my mom was sick. It isn’t their fault. Mental health issues are as real as any other disease. A person doesn’t take their life because they’re selfish, they take it because they don’t have any other choice, their mind tells them that.
I know because I’ve been there. I’ve spiraled to the point where I’ve convinced myself nobody loves me. My therapist talked me back.
So yes, I understand. I don’t blame them and I want more than anything to be their life jacket. To be their lifeguard.
I want to help them save themselves. I want to help them learn how to swim.
On light feet I climb from my bed and double-check that my bedroom door is locked. When I look at the ground I smile and pick up a small square of paper that looks to have been slotted under the door. I shine my phone on it.
It reads,
“I am always here for you. Just say when.”
“When,” I whisper to myself and pad to the window.
Sliding my body through one leg at a time, I land barefoot on the slightly sloped tiled roof that creates a shadow over the garage extension below. I tiptoe careful
ly to Travis’ window and pray that it’s open already, so I don’t have to creep down the hall. The floorboards are creaky, that’s one way to get caught.
It slides up easily and I wonder if he anticipated a visit from me.
I enter his room the exact same way I exited mine. His rug feels soft under my cold feet.
My eyes adjust to the darkness. I can see his shape in the middle of his bed. I can hear his soft breathing.
I’m terrified he’s going to tell me to leave. So terrified that I almost turn back but then I remember what waits for me in my bed. My mother and Brett, wanting to torment me and riddle me with anxieties I’m too young and hormonal to battle.
My knee plants gently onto the mattress which is covered by a thin, blue sheet that has been perfectly tucked around each corner and side.
The blanket is mostly tucked around Travis’ body but it doesn’t take much to tug a little part of it free.
I really hope he’s not sleeping naked tonight.
I shuffle in and wrap the blanket around my back as he stays sleeping. Will he freak out?
I wait a moment before inching closer. His heat is comforting, as comforting as his scent, his presence, the sound of his breathing. It’s so very comforting.
When I shuffle closer, his eyes open and his hand pulls free from the underside of his cheek.
He lifts the blanket just enough for me to move closer, and as soon as my shoulder touches his chest, he presses his lips to my temple and wraps his arm around me, caging me in.
I can feel his heart beating against my arm.
It sends shivers down my spine. Tiny little bursts of pleasure erupt on my scalp every time he exhales.
“Travis?” I whisper uncertainly.
He hums, letting me know he’s awake enough to hear me.
“I think I know what I want to study.”
“You do?” Of course, he sounds surprised but it’s a good surprise. Like he’s proud of me.
I nod gently and breathe, “I want to study the human psyche and help them get better.”
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