Wednesday, September 23, 2009

~Chapter 2 ~ i don't want to die, but i'm not keen on living either

In the remaining two weeks of the term we spent a lot of time together. He began spending lunchtimes with my friends in the library. In fact, after that first day, I rarely heard him mention his old friends at all.

'What's for lunch?' a familiar voice asked from behind me. I grabbed a bottle of lemonade. 'Not hungry...?'

I glanced at him, shaking my head before I handed the cafeteria lady my money.

'Thanks love,' she said in her British accent, dropping the coins into the till and charging him for his burger.

I walked outside and sat against a wall on the other side of the courtyard, closing my eyes, and letting the warm spring sun heat my eyelids. It was five or six minutes before I heard the footsteps approach, before someone's shadow blocked out my sunlight. I was careful not to move, not to open my eyes, not to make a sound. I didn’t want to know who was there, I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to talk. I reached down, feeling for my bottle of lemonade and felt a hand grab mine. I jerked my hand away, my eyes open – suddenly alert.

Sorry,’ he said, his hand falling back into his lap.

‘Oh. It’s you. Uh… Hi?’ I took my bottle of lemonade, blushing at having been so stupid. I wanted him to take my hand again. This time, I wouldn’t let go.

So…’ he said, glancing at me, waiting until I turned a little more towards him before he spoke again. ‘Why aren’t we eating?’

I shrugged, ‘Don’t feel well.’

‘Hmm… I see.’
He took a bite of his burger, turning to face me, closer than before. ‘And why are we outside?’

I closed my eyes again, letting the warm sun heat my eyelids, ‘Dying of lack of vitamin D…?’

He laughed, a soft musical laugh. ‘Study break?’ He guessed.

I sighed. ‘Something like that.’

We spent that lunch time together, outside, soaking up the sun, soaking up each other. We both learnt as much as we could about the other. I learnt that his father was dead, that he had three sisters and that he loved spiders. He learnt that I lived alone, that I didn’t know my family, and that I hated spiders.

I still remember that afternoon, even now, after everything that has happened. I remember every word we spoke, every secret shared. I remember the abnormal sense of ease. I remember feeling no fear, even though he now knew more about me than anyone; despite the fact that he hardly knew anything. That there was no way he could know everything.

I remember the warmth of his hand as he took mine to help me stand. And I remember the way he didn’t let go until the teacher walked through the door of our next class. I remember how grateful I was that I had already finished the chapter my class was working on, grateful that I didn’t need to pay a shred of attention. I remember the way my mind span, full of everything he had said, full of everything I had told him, full of questions and very few answers.

***

The sand was warm, though the day before had been cold. A small girl, of about two or three years old played quietly in the shallow water with her older brother. They splashed water at one another, running and emitting tiny squeals of delight. The boy pushed his sister’s deep brown hair out of her face, splashing water on her arms. She ran at him, attaching herself to him as they both dunked under the water…

***

I remember that afternoon, walking home in the rain, during a thunderstorm that had come out of nowhere. One minute the sky had been the most brilliant blue, and the next it was bucketing down. I had pulled my hood over my head, tucked my headphones into my ears and walked, trying not to look as startled as I felt when the enormous rumbles of thunder cracked above my head.

I hurried through my door, hung up my coat and went straight to the bathroom. The first thing I did was turn the water on as hot as it would go, before grabbing a change of clothes from my room.

The water was scalding hot, prickling my skin. The steam surrounded me, fogging the mirrors and the glass, filling the room, filling my mind so that I could concentrate on nothing but calming down, and relaxing every muscle in my body. When finally I was relaxed, I dressed and took my laptop and novel to the couch against the window in the lounge room. That couch was one of my favourite places in the entire house. It was new, and so soft. Besides, the view of the sky on a day like that was unlike any other. I still remember the countless nights I had spent curled up on the couch, reading, writing, watching a movie, doing homework… crying.

I remember the rain collecting in puddles outside my window, the trees bending in the wind, as though a giant had pushed them over, the lightning that crashed down in amazing pinks and yellows that contrasted so sharply with the deep grey sky. But mostly I remember the thunder, the constant crashing throughout the night.

This would be the perfect night, I thought to myself, as the thunder rolled again, the perfect night to kill myself.

As soon as that thought entered my mind, I did everything I could to brush it off, to change the path of my thoughts. But after all, what did I have to live for? What point was there in life when I had already lost everything? Why should I bother, when even the things I should have control over have been ripped from me?

I remember shivering violently. I wasn’t really thinking about this… Was I? Oh, but I was. I knew I was. After everything that had happened, it was probably surprising that I hadn’t seriously considered that before now. But I wouldn’t. I knew I wouldn’t. I couldn’t let myself down. I knew that I had to keep going, I had to finish high school, university, get a job, find someone. Make a life for myself.

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