aterovis_bm_reapthewhirlwind.p65

by Arlene Chance

  I stood up and handed the phone back to Aidan who was watching me with a worried expression. I walked down the hall to my room and picked up my worn Bible.

  I turned to Hosea and found the indicated verse. “For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.”

  ***

  The following days saw me plunge back into depression, this time even deeper than the first time. Nothing Aidan said could lift me out the dark miasma of de-spair that I sunk deeper into with every passing day. Even Laura’s commands fell on deaf ears.

  For the first time in my life, I found myself thinking about suicide, but worse, the idea wasn’t at all as re-pugnant as I’d always imagined it would be. It held a certain alluring charm, a promise of escape, of no more pain and confusion. I didn’t dare mention it to anyone, but as each day passed, I grew more and more obsessed with the idea of killing myself. I’d never asked to be gay and I damn well didn’t want to be gay. My family hated me, my best friend hated me, I didn’t have a job—

  what did I have to live for? It seemed like the perfect solution.

  I even drew pictures of the various methods I was considering. One showed me seemingly asleep on the bed—until you noticed the empty pill bottles lying next to me. Another showed me hanging from a noose from the fire escape. My personal favorite though was of me in a pool of blood with my wrists laid open.

  Friday morning dawned gray and miserable. I decided it was a perfect day to bring one of those sketches to life. Who would even miss me? I pulled the sketches out from under my bed where I’d been hiding them 97

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  and tried to decide which I liked the most. I immediately discarded the hanging one for purely practical reasons. I didn’t know how to tie a noose. Besides, I’d heard it was a horrible way to die. After checking the medicine cabinet, I had to forget the OD method too.

  The strongest thing we had was two cough drops and some mouthwash. I somehow doubted they could pull it off. On the other hand, I would have nice breath when they found me. Ah, gallows humor—gotta love it.

  That left me with slashing my wrists. I was morbidly pleased since a bloody death appealed to that dark romantic side of me. I waited until Aidan was gone before slipping out of bed and into the kitchen. I sorted through our knives, disappointed to realize we didn’t have many to choose from and what we did have wouldn’t cut through hot butter. I needed a sharp knife so it would be quick, before I lost my nerve. I finally chose one that was marginally sharper than the rest.

  Now, where to do the deed? I went through several ideas before deciding the kitchen was as good a place as any; definitely the easiest place to clean up.

  The thought of a note went through my head but considering the circumstances, I didn’t think one was necessary. Those involved would know why and no one else needed to know. Besides who would I address it to? To whom it may concern? Then I thought about writing up a will, but I didn’t have anything worth leaving to anyone and I wasn’t at all sure I was of sound mind and body at the moment and I was pretty sure that was a requirement.

  Finally, I ran out of stall tactics. It was now or never.

  I took a deep breath, placed the edge of the blade against my wrist, and froze. I couldn’t seem to make myself do 98

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  it. Just then, I heard a fumbling at the door and before my befuddled mind could react, Aidan walked in.

  “Hey,” he said as he appeared in the kitchen door.

  “It’s good to see you up. I forgot my—” he stopped suddenly when he saw the knife in my hand. “Oh my God, Will—what are you doing?”

  I gripped the knife harder and pressed so hard against my skin that a thin cut sliced through and a small trickle of blood ran down my wrist. I gasped from the pain and Aidan’s eyes bulged. “Don’t!” he shouted.

  “Why?” I asked in a barely audible voice. “Why shouldn’t I kill myself? What do I have to live for?”

  “Will, you have your whole life ahead of you. You’re only eighteen. I know things are hard right now, but this isn’t the answer.” As he spoke, he inched slowly closer to me.

  “Then what is the answer?”

  “I don’t know, Will, but I promise this isn’t it. I’ll help you find it though; I know someone who can help. He’s my professor, a really nice guy. I want you to talk to him.”

  “A shrink?”

  “He’s a psychiatrist; a good one. I think he can help.”

  “You think I need to be fixed too.”

  “No, I just think—”

  “No!”

  “Please, think of all the people you would be hurting.”

  “Like who? My parents? I’m not even welcome in their home anymore. My best friend? He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “How about Laura? And Asher? And what about me?

  I care about you, Will.” He had gradually crept closer 99

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  until he was now within arm’s reach. He stretched out his hand and looked at me pleadingly. “Please Will, don’t do this. Give me the knife. Right now, all you can see is the darkness but there is light, I promise. I promise you, Will.”

  Suddenly it was as if everything drained out of me.

  The knife slipped from my fingers with a clatter as it struck the tiles. I crumpled slowly after it, my body wracked with enormous sobs that seemed to originate from the depths of my soul and shudder their way through my whole being. Aidan was at my side with his arms around me before I even hit the floor. We sat on the kitchen floor with his arms around me while he gently rocked me and I sobbed into his shoulder. I felt his tears mixing with my own and I knew he was hurting with me, sharing my pain. It somehow made the pain that much more bearable.

  “I’m getting blood on your shirt,” I blubbered.

  “I don’t care,” he said gently, then lifted me up like a small child and carried me to the sofa where he carefully laid me down. He ducked into the kitchen long enough to grab a dishtowel which he wrapped tightly around my wrist.

  “It’s not deep. I’ll get a bandage and you’ll be fine,”

  he said.

  Then, keeping a concerned eye on me, he flipped through his address book and made a phone call. He spoke in low tones that I couldn’t quite make out, not that I tried all that hard. After he hung up, he picked me up again and carried me down the hall.

  In the bathroom, he began pulling my clothes off. I didn’t even protest I was so wiped out. I felt as if I had been turned inside out, beaten, and then turned right 100

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  side in again. When he had me stripped to my boxers, he turned the shower on and placed me under the spray.

  The cold water hit me like a slap in the face. Even with the bracing coolness, Aidan still had to practically hold me up and by the time the water was turned off, he was as soaked as I was.

  He wrapped a thick, fluffy towel around my shiver-ing body and once more lifted me up and carried me into the bedroom. He set me on the bed then turned to pull some clothes out of the dresser. He laid them next to me.

  “Think you can get dressed while I change?” he asked gently.

  I nodded and he left. I obediently started pulling on the clothes he had set out, feeling like a little kid, but not minding all that much. He was back much quicker than I would have thought possible and helped me finish getting dressed.

  “Let’s go,” he said when I was once more clothed.

  “Go where?” I asked meekly.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Then let’s go.”

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  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Aidan’s car pulled to a stop in an area clearly marked no parking in front of one of the less prominent buildings on his campus. The university was a small but respected liberal arts school, built in a historic district of town around the turn of the century as an alternative to the stuffier, business-oriented college on the other side of town. Most of the buildings were red brick with white trim and
this one was no different, but it was obviously an afterthought and not part of the original layout.

  Aidan jumped out of the car and came around to open my door. “Come on,” he said.

  “Why are we here?” I protested weakly.

  “Follow me” was all he said. I climbed out and followed through the front door and down a short hall to a door marked with the name Dr. E. H. Wohler in simple gold lettering. We entered a room so small that if you sat on the provided sofa your knees almost touched the wall in front of you. It looked like they had comman-deered a supply closet for their waiting room. A pleasant looking, slightly plump middle-aged woman sat at a desk behind a half-wall that served as a counter. She looked up as we entered.

  “I’m Aidan Scott,” Aidan said. “I called Dr. Wohler 102

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  earlier; he’s expecting us.”

  “Yes, go right in,” she said. She had a pleasant voice to match her pleasant look.

  I balked slightly at that point, but Aidan took me gently but firmly by the arm and pulled me along. When we stepped into the office, it actually took me by surprise, even in the shape I was in. The difference between the sad, cramped lobby and this large but cozy room was like night and day. The harsh fluorescent lighting had been replaced with warm incandescent lamps.

  Thick oriental rugs had covered up the industrial grade carpet, and instead of a worn institutional couch, there were two inviting armchairs facing a large wooden desk.

  A man was standing behind the desk waiting expectantly for us. He was on the short side, not much taller than I was, with a receding hairline and glasses. He was wearing a tailored gray suit that spoke his success as clearly as if he’d hung a sign around his neck that read,

  “I’m rich.”

  “Hello, Aidan, it’s good to see you,” the man, I pre-sumed him to be Dr. Wohler, said. “And you must be Will?”

  I looked uncertainly at Aidan. What exactly had he told Wohler? Aidan and the doctor shook hands.

  “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice, Doc,”

  Aidan said as he gently pushed me into one of the two chairs. He sat down in the other and the doctor settled into his plush executive chair.

  “No problem, I always try to make time for my most promising student, and besides I just happened to have a cancellation on my schedule,” he said the last with a small smile that showed he was kidding. “I just hope I can be of assistance. You said on the phone that it was 103

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  an emergency?”

  I turned a glare on Aidan, but he didn’t even glance in my direction. “Dr. Wohler, can we have your complete confidentiality about what we are going to say?”

  For a moment, the doctor looked somewhat insulted, then he looked at me, and an unspoken message seemed to pass between him and Aidan. He nodded, “Of course, as you know, any information that should come out while we are talking is held in complete confidence.”

  Aidan turned to me now. “Can I tell Dr. Wohler what’s going on?” I thought for a moment, and then nodded my consent. He quickly and succinctly outlined the events leading up to my depression and my attempted suicide that morning. When he had finished Dr. Wohler sat for a minute tapping his chin with one index finger, his expression unreadable. Then he pulled a legal pad out of a desk drawer and asked me a few questions. He scribbled on the pad the whole time while I talked. A mental picture of him drawing nudie pictures while I rattled on popped into my head, almost making me giggle out loud. I decided I was definitely in the right place since I was apparently going “nucking futs” as the t-shirt says.

  When he’d used up his questions, he looked up and asked Aidan to excuse us. After he had slipped quietly from the room, Dr. Wohler turned his full attention on me.“Well, Will,” he said after a few seconds of carefully studying my face, “as you probably already know, you’re in a pretty deep depression. That’s the bad news.

  The good news is that depression is very treatable. Since your depression seems to be mainly because of your situation right now, and maybe some residual issues 104

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  that you need to deal with regarding your upbringing, we could just work through it in some sessions. What I think is the better course is for us to set you up on some mild anti-depressants, get you out of this funk, get you so you’re thinking a little clearer, and then we can really tackle those problems. You’ll be able to handle a little poking at sore spots once your depression is under control. What do you think?”

  I nodded hesitantly.

  “Do you understand what causes depression?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Okay, to oversimplify it, there are lots of little cells in your brain, but they don’t touch. To get information from one cell to another they need a conductor. That conductor is called serotonin. When your body isn’t producing enough serotonin it can cause all sorts of problems, but the main one is depression. What we need to do is increase your serotonin level. Are you following me?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, great!” He pulled open another desk drawer and pulled out some small boxes. “I’m going to give you some samples of a medicine that I think will do the trick. It’s a very mild drug that has very few, very mild side effects and it’s not habit-forming. You won’t feel an immediate difference; it takes a few weeks to get into your system. If this doesn’t seem to be working for you then I want you to tell me that. This may not be the right drug for you, but I promise there is a right one.

  This isn’t an exact science though, and we may have to try a couple before we hit the right one. I’m betting this one will be the ticket, however.”

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  He slid the boxes across the desk to me and I picked them up.

  “These are on the house. Take two of those a day to start with. I gave you a two-week supply; that’s the ear-liest that you would see some effect although it takes others longer sometimes. Is it okay if I bring Aidan back in now and tell him what we’ve decided?”

  I nodded again and he pressed a button on his phone and spoke into the receiver, “Linda, could you send Aidan back in please?”

  Aidan was back beside me in no time. Dr. Wohler directed his comments to him, “You were right to bring Will here, Aidan. He was definitely in need of a doctor’s care. He is depressed but we are going to treat it ag-gressively with medication.” He turned back to me.

  “Will, do you trust Aidan?”

  I thought for a moment then nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  “Good. I think you know that not too many roommates would go to this length for someone they’ve only known for a month. I’m going to give Aidan the medicine to administer for now until you are in a better frame of mind.” Aidan took the boxes and we both sat looking expectantly at the doctor. “There’s one more thing I want you to do for me before you go, Will. I would like you to make a covenant with Aidan that you will not hurt yourself before talking to him. Can you do that, Will?”

  I looked down at my lap and nodded somewhat hesitantly.

  “Say it.”

  I looked up, startled.

  “Look at Aidan and say it. Tell him that you promise not to hurt yourself without talking to him first.”

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  I slowly turned my head until I was looking into Aidan’s piercing green eyes. I saw myself mirrored in them, looking like a deer caught in headlights. I focused on the twin images of myself and forced the words from my mouth. “I promise I won’t hurt myself without talking to you first,” I whispered hoarsely.

  “Good!” said Dr. Wohler. “Now remember, you made that promise in front of a witness and a man is only as good as his word. Aidan, take care of him, keep an eye on him and call me if anything comes up that you can’t handle. He probably shouldn’t be left alone for a few days. Do you have some friends to help out?”

  “We’ll be okay,” Aidan said confidently. I was glad someone was confident.

  “Good, okay then. Will, I’ll see you in two weeks.”
r />   ***

  The next few days went by in a blur. Aidan was almost always with me and when he wasn’t Laura was. Once, Gabe even spent a tortured hour trying to make conversation while I stared dumbly at the television.

  But most of the time it was Aidan that watched over me, he even started sleeping in my bed, chastely of course. As far as I could tell, he never strayed from his side of the bed. At first, I thought the constant attention would be suffocating, but in reality, I found it very comforting. It was nice to know someone cared that deeply.

  When the next week began, Aidan stayed home from school. When I protested, he said that everything was already arranged with his professors and for me not to worry about it.

  Things settled into a nice, comfortable environment in which I slowly but surely began to feel better. The black curtain of depression began to lift and I began to 107

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  feel hopeful once again. But as my spirits began to rise, so did my restlessness. I was working at my drawing table one day with Aidan sitting nearby as usual. He was supposedly reading, but he was at my elbow if I so much as farted crooked. I got up to go look for a notebook that I was pretty sure was in my closet but Aidan insisted on getting it for me. After some bickering, I gave in with a sigh and went back to my drawing. When he still wasn’t back after several minutes I called back without looking up, “Did you find it? I told you I should just get it myself. I’m not an invalid you know.”

  “What are these?” he asked quietly from directly behind me. The closeness of his voice caused me to jump.

  I turned to see what he was talking about. He was holding one of my sketchbooks, the one in which I had drawn my suicide fantasies.

  “They were—from before,” I said softly. Looking at them now, I felt a strange horror, as if someone else had drawn them. It seemed impossible that they had come from my mind and my hand.

  Aidan ripped the pages from the book with such a sudden, savage motion that I jumped again. He angrily shredded them one by one then gathered all the tiny pieces of paper and tossed them into the sink where he burned the whole lot. A strange shudder went down my spine as I watched the flames lick at the shreds of paper, eventually consuming them completely, leaving only a black mess that Aidan washed down the drain.