Friends (part 4)

I breathed a sigh of relief at that point, but I knew it would be a mistake to leave it at that. "Okay," I repeated. "Okay...meaning...?" "I'm not gonna do it." Her voice was raspy, but she sounded so much better than she had. Grounded. Calmer. I'm pretty sure I said something at this point that even got a weak little laugh from her, but I have no idea now what it was that I said. She apologized again for calling so late; I told her, sincerely, that I was glad she had. "Anytime." After she promised I'd see her at school in the morning, we said goodnight. Exhausted as I was, sleep was a long time in coming. I agonized over whether or not I had handled the situation correctly, whether I should have said or done something more. Should I call someone? That seemed like it would be a violation of the trust M had placed in me. Should I go down there? She lived just down the street, but that didn't seem like a good option either. She had told me she was okay. I had to look deep inside and ask myself if I believed her. I realized that I did. Just as I had known things were serious by the way she sounded when I picked up the phone, I could tell by her voice that the storm was at least temporarily over when we were done. Still, I sought her out first thing when I arrived at the high school the next day. My heart skipped a beat when I saw her. She was pale, and her eyes were red, but she was there. I had my arms around her before she even knew I was there. "It's good to see you," I whispered. I talked to J as soon as I could that day to bring him up to speed on what had happened. We spent a great deal of time discussing what we could and should do for her. We went through and named several school faculty and staff members that we could possibly talk to and rejected each of them for one reason or another. We knew she had dealt with a number of them before, and that they hadn't really helped, and that she was therefore leery of them. So, in the end, we decided we would be her support system. We'd encourage her to talk to us whenever it seemed like something might be bothering her; we'd be sure to tell her often how much she meant to us; we'd be certain she knew she could call us under any circumstances at any time; we'd try to talk her out of the relationship she was in, which was obviously unhealthy. We knew we had to be vigilant, and that we'd have to get help if there were any further incidents, but we felt like that was our best option at the time. Maybe that seems like we were playing with fire, and I suppose we were, to a certain extent. All I can say is that we didn't take our position lightly or go into it without a great deal of thought. It seemed like the best thing we could do at the time. And looking back with the benefit of hindsight, it worked. As it turned out, we didn't have to talk M out of her boyfriend. She moved on from him shortly thereafter (maybe immediately thereafter) with no coaxing from us. And we were as good as our word on everything else. The three of us continued to take great joy in our companionship, and we made sure we expressed it - not just J and I to M, but all three of us to each other. And that made things better for all of us, I think. We've drifted apart over the course of the years since high school, as people tend to do. J and I are still in contact and get together occasionally. I think he and M might communicate every once in a great while, but I could be wrong about that. I think sometimes about getting in touch with her, and I always wonder if maybe it isn't easier for her if those old days are just left behind. Sometimes a little bird will whisper some news of her to me, and knowing that she's out there and happy is enough.

Friends (part 3)

Because I wasn't 100% sure what had happened, I figured the best and easiest thing to do was just to keep her talking. I had her try to explain exactly what had happened. I asked questions as best I could from what little I was getting out of her. She got more and more coherent as time went on and she calmed down, although she continued to insist that her best course of action would be to kill herself. Finally, she got to a point where she was apologizing for calling, and that she would "get on with it." I have no idea how long we had been on the phone, but it was a while. So I told her then that I had listened while she talked, and now it was my turn to say something. And so I did. I told her to forget about whatever her boyfriend had said or done, that by bringing her so low he had proved himself unworthy. I told her I loved her. I told her that J and I both loved her, and that maybe it wasn't the same, but that we should never doubt that there were people who cared about her. I told her we would always be there for her, no matter what, and if she needed to make late-night calls to us, then so be it. I told her about the light she brought into our lives, and how we would miss it if she were gone. I told her not that she should live for our sake, but that she could and should lean on us, for all of our sakes, that was what friendship was all about, and that no one ever had been, or ever would be, better friends than the three of us. I told her that, whatever it took, we would get her through the days and weeks ahead. If she would help us. If she would let us. Silence reigned for a few moments after I said everything I felt I could say without repeating myself or lapsing into cliche rather than what I truly felt. I could hear her breathing, still ragged. I let her have all the time she needed. Finally: "Okay."

Friends (part 2)

I was never wholly aware of exactly what triggered this incident. I did eventually puzzle out that it was something to do with her boyfriend, something he had either said or done. Or both; I suppose that seems likely enough. Like her depression, M's boyfriend was something that J and I were aware of mostly on the periphery. Of all the times the three of us hung out, I can remember only once when he was also around, and, if I remember correctly, that was mostly in passing - he was coming over as J and I were heading out, and there was a few minutes' worth of overlap, or something like that. In short, neither of us knew him well. The only thing I really knew is that he had a particular way of walking; I'd call it a strut, except he walked that way all the time. J and I would imitate it occasionally, an act that never failed to draw shrieks of laughter from M. I'm not adverse to busting it out on a rare occasion even now, all these years later. At any rate, something about their relationship had set M off, and that brought about this particular episode.

Heightening

"Lay back," she said. Close your eyes. He looked at her for a moment, wondering where she was going with this. Her eyes stayed on his. Finally he sighed, leaned back, rested his head on the earth. He laced his hands behind his head as he closed his eyes. He was aware of her lying down as well, snuggling up close to his left side, her hand on his chest. "Now," she whispered, "tell me what you hear. What you smell. What you feel."

Homecoming

And make no mistake, this is still home for me, despite the fact that I wasn't born here and don't live here now. Although, in one sense, I was born here. This is where I found myself. This is where I came into my own.

Friends (part 1)

Did I ever tell you I once had to talk a friend out of suicide? I was either a sophomore or junior in high school, so either 15 or 16 years old. My circle of close friends at the time consisted of myself, another guy (J), and a girl (M). Before you can ask, it was never a matter of attraction between any of us. It was just a serendipity of three teenagers who enjoyed each other's company and happened to live in the same neighborhood. We were the kind of kids who did well in school without really trying, and we made each other laugh. We bonded over Shakespeare, of all things - we were all in the same sophomore English class, and we read Julius Caesar aloud. I read the part of Cassius, J was Brutus, and M was Marc Antony. And sure, it's possible that we were all sort of on the fringes of the rest of the high school crowd, even if we didn't all realize it. I can't speak for them, but I sure didn't, at least not fully. It was an awkward age. That's all I'm trying to say, and the three of us were as close as I can imagine platonic teenagers being. We had conversations that were at once absurd and deep, and oh, how we laughed together. J and I knew that M had a history of depression. We rarely saw that side of her, but it wasn't a complete surprise when I got the call. It was around 2-3 a.m. on a weeknight, and I was awakened by my dad in my bedroom door, saying I had a phone call. Actually, my parents were amazingly cool about the whole thing. They didn't make a big deal about a call at such an hour, never demanded to know what was going on. Dad just let me know I had a call, then went back to bed when he was sure I was getting up. I'm sure my mom and I talked about it at some point, but it was conversation, not inquisition. I suppose the reason Dad wasn't put out by the late call is because it was readily apparent that something was, indeed, wrong. M was sobbing when I picked up the phone, more vociferously than anyone I've heard before or since. I couldn't understand a word she was saying at first; only knew it was her by the sound of her voice. It was several minutes before I made out the words "kill myself" and finally began to figure out exactly what I was dealing with. And with the way she sounded, the utter despair and hysteria in her voice, I knew immediately that this was not a mere plea for attention. I knew my friend was on the brink of doing something desperate. (To be continued) *Names have been redacted and initials changed.

An Expansion in Scope

I clicked over to this blog the other day to see how long it had been since I had posted anything. Quite a while, as it turns out. I think that's probably because I didn't have any concrete goals when I started it. I figured I'd use it from time to time to work out some ideas, maybe occasionally post a bit of something I was working on, whatever. Obviously, that loose plan didn't accomplish much of anything. I thought about taking this blog down completely, but it occurred to me that instead it might behoove me to come up with a more complete plan for it instead and then start actually using it to my advantage. What I'm thinking is that I can use this as a writing journal. Between laptops and my BlackBerry, I'm rarely in a situation where I can't post something that occurs to me, or access this to read something I've written previously, which makes this more convenient than trying to carry around a notebook everywhere I go. I'm taking inspiration from the 'Project 365' concept in which participants take and post one photo per day for a full year. In this case, I'd like to write something each day for a full year (at least). Plenty of times I have lines or scenes that occur to me, with or without the context of any larger project to use them in, and this will be a good place to get them out of my head and into a place where I can play around with them or pluck them later when the right project does arise. There's really no limit to the sort of thing you might find here if this project goes as planned. Short pieces, long pieces, fiction, creative non-fiction, maybe even some occasional poetry. In keeping with the original idea of Project 365, I may even put up a photo from time to time, although I do plan on accompanying any photos with some type of writing, even if it's nothing more than a description of what's depicted or the circumstances under which the photo was taken. So here we go. Today is 'Day 1.' Let's see where we go from here.