Don’t Let Me Down

By Simon Jimenez

Chapter One

“The Bethany Soul Catcher”

*

I thank Dumbo everyday for introducing me to Brody Gallagher. It was fate that we happened to sit next to each other when our kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Morris, played the famous Disney movie for us on a TV so old even she had a hard time believing it was allowed in school. The picture sucked, but we could still make out who was who, and what songs the characters sang. It was when we came to the song “When I see an Elephant” that the magic started.  

As the animals in the movie teased and mocked Dumbo by singing about all the impossible things in the world, and how him flying was the most impossible of all, Brody got so frustrated that he stood up and shouted “But he can fly, you shitheads!” at the screen. That was one of the few times I’d heard a curse word in my young life, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever, so I stood up with him and said, “yeah, shitheads! He can fly!” Brody looked at me with surprised eyes, and started laughing. We were sent to the principal’s office shortly afterwards, laughing the entire way there.

That day, I left school with my first and only best friend.                                   

When I turned seventeen last month, Brody gave me a copy of Dumbo. We watched it three times that night, the third time forgetting it was on as we just sat around, two guys talking under the buzz of the living room lamp.

“So you honestly think that caramel is better than nougat?” he asked incredulously. “When did that happen?”

I shrugged, smiling at the apparent disbelief on his face. “Sorry, man. I defected”

“Traitor,” he laughed. “And here I thought I knew you.”

“We all have our secrets.”

“You can say that again,” he said. I echoed that statement in my head. I wondered what secrets he kept from me. “Hey, I’m glad we’re doing this,” he suddenly said, as if snapped out of a trance, “I know we haven’t been hanging out as much, and-”    

“Yeah, what’s up with that? Where’ve you been lately?” I didn’t mean to sound so bitchy, but I really missed my friend, and whenever I called him up, it was rare when he wasn’t busy with ‘work’. “You know, we don’t have to be attached by the hip or anything like we used to… but really, once in a while, Brody…”

“I know,” He sighed. “I’ll try harder to sort things out. We will hang out more. I promise.”

“Glad to hear it.”

I wasn’t just glad, I was ecstatic, which I found forgivable since I was head over heels in love with the guy… a feeling that was catalyzed three years ago when I realized how hot he actually was, dripping sweat in the gym showers. It hit me like a lightning bolt. Ever since then, looking in his direction became a little different than usual, a little less innocent, and each day I caught myself making excuses to touch him, to just be near him.

I had planned to tell him my feelings eventually, and even considered admitting it that night we watched Dumbo on the leather couch, but something deeper than fear kept my mouth shut and my smile plastered, no matter how many times he would say, “Sorry dude. Can’t hang tonight. Work.”   

Always work.

And so, seventeen years and one month old, I lay on wintry ice, staring into the night sky, suddenly realizing that Brody had broken his promise… we saw each other only once after my birthday and that was in the school bathroom, while I was taking the largest crap of my life. That realization made me miserable, as it felt like the foundation that kept our friendship steady suddenly vanished in thin air, leaving us with only chance encounters to spark an old flame that clearly wanted to die.

Had I known any better, I would have also realized that I was dying.  

Yet I did not, so I watched with curious fascination as melting droplets of water beaded and jerked down a long icicle, which hung from an overhead tree branch. My eyes followed each drop pushing the other forward down the slope, until finally they hung off the curved tip of the ice. I waited for stretched minutes until the molecules threw in the towel and let go of the ice, allowing the droplet of water to free fall through the melting winter air. The drop hit red liquid, disturbing the stillness in my puddle of blood. More drops continued to descend into the lake of red that flowed free from my scalp, into the many crevasses of ice, then down into the gutters of the road.

It was night. Nobody in this suburban neighborhood ventured out at night, especially not on ones with roads slick as olive oil. Then why was I out? The answer is quite simple. I didn’t want to be in my house anymore, so I left. Everything worth taking was now in the brown leather suitcase that lay next to me on the thick layers of icy winter. I should’ve looked where I was going for sure, but when you’re running away from home, you’ll find that your mind isn’t focused on where your feet land, which means you might slip and fall into the same head-gash induced predicament like mine.

No… instead, I thought about Brody… if he was still at the hospital with his mom, playing Bridge, her favorite game, and if he was making that same annoying victory dance each time he won. I smiled inside, betting that occasionally, his mind turned from his mom quick enough to see a picture of me by the phone, waiting for him to call.   

I grimaced bitterly, knowing too well that there was no way he could help me now, no matter how much I thought of him. I was frozen. No matter how hard I struggled through wheezes and grunts, my body was too weak to lift off the ground. My mouth refused to move, which meant that calling for help was not an option. I was stuck surrounded by houses full of people, with slow certain death bleeding from the back of my head, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it.

It’s amazing how much you’re able to think in such a condition. Gwyn, my sister, came to mind… how she was probably crying now that I had run away, and how my mother pretended not to care. I wish I could tell my sister I was only down the street, with my arm hanging off the cracked curve of where our school bus stop used to be, but that was not going to happen anytime soon. I sucked at telepathy.

That didn’t matter, though. None of it mattered, as I could feel my head become so much lighter as my wine of life spread throughout the Barnes’ front lawn. The world darkened to shaded graphite, and my surroundings blurred. 

I heard a sound.

Footsteps began to crack over the frozen tar. I could sense my head turn ever so slightly, catching sight of a dark figure that slowly came into view. The blood became insignificant as I faced an elderly woman wrapped in a heavy brown cloth. Her arms extended above her head in a circular motion, and in one quick moment, huge black wings erupted out of her back like a blooming rose. They were wings of night- a beautiful, fearsome visage.

Long ago, before I messed up Gwyn’s legs… when my mother still looked at me, read me bedtime stories, she told me stories of the angels. She’d describe in that fantastical voice of hers their wings, in wonderful detail- how they were so beautiful no art created by man could compare, and how they were strong enough to take them wherever they needed faster than light across my bedroom. I told my mother that I wanted to be an angel, to soar with the clouds… and each time I told her so, she would say “one day, my love”, kiss my forehead and turn off the lights. For years after that, I would have only one recurring dream- me, soaring on white wings, landing softly in her arms as she welcomed me back home. The last image seen would be her eyes, looking at me as if we were the last two people on Earth.  

I saw my mother’s eyes as the black winged woman stooped down until her gnarled nose was inches from mine, but she was not my mother. Her breath caressed my face in gentle wisps. It smelt of crushed lilacs and hydrangeas, an untouched meadow. She spoke in a grainy, filtered voice that came through like an old radio.

“Harbor Ryan, is it?” She knew my name.

Suddenly, I could speak, but only in a crying whisper. “Yeah?”

The old woman offered me a sympathetic smile and sat beside me on the red ice. Her spidery fingers combed through the thick mess of brown hair that had begun to clump together due to the frozen blood. She straightened my hair out, gently tugging it away from my scalp, cleaning off bits of me that tangled it. I could not feel what she did to me, only see it, and see it I did in curious fascination.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Her hands drew back and stroked a tear that had begun to drip down my temple. I liked her touch, the gentle warmth that seemed to exude from her body. “Harbor… I’m sorry, but, you are going to die tonight.”

Another tear replaced the one she wiped away. “Figured as much. It’s not like anyone is coming to help me anytime soon.” I squinted, trying to make out her more defined features. She looked intensely familiar. “Who are you?”

“I’m the Angel of Death, Harbor.”

I coughed a laugh. Another droplet of water hit my blood. “Always thought you’d be a little more intimidating. You know… with hellfire and all that.”

“For some people, I am.” She whispered in serene calm as she combed her fingers through my hair. “I embody whatever the fated person deserves. For you, I am what was lacking in your life, a tender adult.”

“Yep…” My eyes melted in tears. “Could’ve used one of those…”

Death smiled. “I’m here now.”

Gently, I closed my eyes, shutting away the pain of night, and welcoming the bliss of ignorance. All I felt was her gentle stroke of hair, her warm breath, the still night. I felt a peace that had left eons ago, revolving through and out my young slow drumming heart. A peace once experienced under the late nightglow of TV, my head resting on my father’s lap as he stroked my hair. Talk show hosts and commercial jingles lulled me to sleep. Somewhere deep inside, those nights existed in lonely memory, but the man I called father was long gone.

The day I laid a lily to rest on his tombstone, I knew he was not coming back.

Bad memories began to pour out of my eyes.

“I want you to think, Harbor, of everyone you know here in this world of Real.” She wiped another tear. “Who will you miss the most?”

Thousands of names flashed through my mind, most were people I knew from school. My parents’ names were not on my list. Neither was Johnny, that bastard bully in the seventh grade who was gracious enough to give me my first broken limb, nor was Melvin, the boy who drowned himself in self-pity and made it his life’s mission to follow me wherever I went. No, only one name burned through my skull and out my mouth.

“Brody.”

“Would you like to see him one more time?” She asked, similar to that of a doting grandmother. “I can do that for you.”

“Why for me?”

She smiled, giving way to a row of craggy teeth. “For the dying good, any last requests are possible. But you must ask for them before the time is up.” Her black beady eyes stayed on mine, waiting for a response. A gentle silence flew in with a bitter gust of wind, and left down the main road. “What do you request, good soul?”

What do I request? The answer was obvious.

“To see Brody again.” My voice came through clear, as if a baseball were flying through the air, and my voice was the only thing that could catch it. Death simply nodded and closed her wrinkled eyelids over her pearly black dates, and took one slow deliberate breath. It seemed to last forever.

Wisps of steam kept flowing from her mouth until all I could see was the gray matter.

*

I became a flash of light, watching my surroundings fly by like Sunday afterthoughts. I flew through Mr. Steven’s living room as he dressed his cat in a miniature tuxedo. My body zoomed through countless walls, just missing the overhead light as Mrs. Saunders and baby Jean cuddled close on the bed, watching Jeopardy on their twelve-inch screen. The wind carried me up a hill, and into old man Alabaster’s mansion as he rang the bell by his four-poster bed, yelling in his dying rasp of a voice, “Where’s my soup, Rosetta?” The entire world was getting ready for the night. 

Before long, I entered a room whose bright blue wallpaper was instantly recognizable, even in the dark. It was my sister Gwyn’s room, who slept in tearstains as my mother stroked her long blonde locks. Before reality dissipated as I flew through my used-to-be life, I could have sworn that my mother was crying. Despair… an emotion unfamiliar with her face, if the blotchy mascara was any proof. In that split second as I flew by, I could have sworn that I missed her, that I wanted to see her smile again.

Then again, when I was five, I swore that I saw Big Foot in my backyard, playing with my tire swing. Nobody believed me.

*

Instantly, I had control of my body again. I stretched my legs out and pulled my arms backward. My hand explored my scalp, which was now devoid of anything violent. I felt my face smile again. Warmth exploded through my body as the gray matter separated and dispersed, landing me softly in the middle of a glowing hospital corridor.

A wrinkled hand found its way on my shoulder.

“He’s waiting for you,” She whispered, “you have five minutes.”

She gently pushed me forward.

“Go.”

As soon as she gave me that green light, my hand drew itself out and onto the circular knob that would open the door to room 55F. Brody was on the other side of this door.

That realization brought my thoughts to full circle. What was I going to say to him? What could I say? There were so many things and only five minutes… five minutes. What could I possibly say in such a short amount of time? Hey man, how’s it going? Yeah, I’m about to die, so I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been in love with you for the past three years?

With a troubled and clueless mind, I entered the room, not prepared for anything. The door brought a breeze from the hallway into the bedroom, blowing my hair slightly wayward. My eyes had to adjust to the sudden wave of light that hit as I stepped inside.

His mom was asleep in bed, her blond threads tied back into a fine tail. That looked like his work. He himself was dozing off as well. None had noticed that I had entered. My feet found their ground in front of the chair he slept in. Brody looked so peaceful that I almost didn’t have the heart to wake him. But when he mouthed my name in his sleep, nothing could stop me from shaking his shoulder to consciousness.

“Brody… dude, wake up.”

He suddenly woke up and slapped my hand away, then looked instantly sorry as he realized who I was. He started laughing. “Sorry, Harbor…. Didn’t know it was you.” He began to rub his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

There it was.... The question for which I had no answer. Well, no answer I wanted to give him. I really had no business for being there. I knew he liked to spend the time with his mom alone. I felt bad for interrupting, but my reasons for doing so were much too important, even though I had absolutely nothing to say.

“I have to…” My voice stopped itself. What was I doing? There was no way to explain everything… no time to explain that I was going to die.

I sighed deeply, preparing myself for my last conversation. “Can we talk outside? Just for a couple minutes.”

Brody glanced at his mom, and then curiously back at me. “Um, sure, I guess.”

I kept my eyes on him as we walked out the room and closed the door behind us. The halls were stark empty, and Death was gone for the time being. The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered above us. Brody leaned into the opposite wall, against a bulletin board. I just stood in front of him, not sure what to say. After a moment of shuffling feet and awkward glances, he decided to start the conversation. “So, what’s up?”

I started to talk about random stuff, like how I sneezed blood on our mutually hated math teacher, and when I tripped down the main staircase of our school and collided with Brad Garret, the biggest boy in our class. Brody laughed at it all. For a while, I felt normal, and content- a feeling I would never imagine missing while I took life for granted.

However, in my peripheries, I could see gray matter rise up beneath my feet, and I realized that I was running out of time, and that I was going to miss him. I was going to miss that laugh of his, that smile, and most of all, that voice. I wanted to speak truthfully during the few moments I still had with him, and I wanted him to speak truthfully to me, with that voice I was going to miss so much.

“Do you remember when we were seven, and you wanted to play Star Commander, and I wanted to play Hide and seek?” I asked.

“Star Commander is awesome.”

“Uh, no... Hide and seek is awesome. Star Commander blows.”

His laugh rebounded off the stark white walls. “Is that what you want to talk about? Children’s games?” He shook his head, smiling. “I remember. It was our first fight. God… I remember. How strange is that?”

I smiled, knowing he was right. It was strange that I could remember our entire history together. There were so many memories to choose from, our whole friendship on display: Tanks, asteroids, Nintendo, music, food, sleepovers… everything. It’s an intense feeling when you realize that not one memory got lost between you and your friend. My knees buckled a bit. “Yeah, well, I was thinking about what you said to me then.” 

His face contorted in disbelief. “What could I have possibly said back then that you still remember?”

More than you could possibly imagine, I thought. But I said, “Well, when we stopped fighting, you said that you were sorry.”

“People tend to say that after a fight. Even children.”

My eyes rolled on reflex. “Whatever. What I’m trying to say is…” What was I trying to say? “I’m trying to say that I’ve never once apologized to you.” My eyes wandered down the hall, my voice with it. “You were always the one to apologize first. I was just a stubborn asshole...”

“So? I never needed to hear you say it.” He looked at the floor, obviously uncomfortable as his feet twisted into the linoleum. “I always knew when you were. Sorry, that is.”

“Well, just for kicks then, I’m sorry that I never said sorry.”

He looked back up at me and offered a smile. “Feel better now?”

I gave no answer. I just walked forward and hugged him tighter than his piano-wire sneaker laces. He gasped from the abrupt force, but I could feel his muscles relax after a while.

“Jesus, you hug tight,” Brody sighed. We stood in silence, me in mourning, and he in contemplation. I squeezed his body harder, relishing the electricity the contact created. This was the last time I would ever be touched, so I took all I could get. “I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assured.

No, that’s not it. I just wanted to remember everything about my friend before I left this world. Of all the different memories I had collected like fireflies in a glass jar, this one, the feel of Brody, was the one I wanted to keep alive, even after death. Wistful remembrances and uncorked champagne bottles flooded my mind. “Goodbye, Brody.”

“What do you mean, ‘goodbye’?”

It was too late… I was gone. Life pulled me off the stage before the main act. I cried as light waves flew by my being, my soul hurtling into the great divide between awake and dream. Brody was off in the distance, falling onto the floor in surprise, calling out my name. He kept calling until all I heard was soft radio disturbance, like sand paper on asphalt.

When I crossed the divide, all the lights disappeared. My world burned up into a fuzz of perpetual black. I floated around with a wayward body, feeling incredibly alone, my eyes not able to scope much more than the pure emptiness of it all.

Death’s voice echoed through my hallowed space.

“This is it, Harbor. This is the end.” She appeared before me out of the veil of darkness. “Are you ready?”

I was still crying. I could still hear him calling my name.

“Not nearly.” I had to bend down the tears were so heavy. A long bitter laugh found its way out my mouth. My red eyes looked up at the dark. How could she expect me to be ready? This was the end of the line for me. No second chances, no redo’s… Everything was done.  

I was done.

“Does everyone take it this hard?”

That was when death took me by the hand, looked me straight in the eye, and told me a painful truth. “Some do, some do not. All you need to know is this: you are doing an amazing job.” Her soft hands held my face like a chalice. “It is a terrible world we live in where the good die young.”

“I don’t want to leave.” By now, I buried my face in her shoulder, smothering my feelings against her bony skin. “Please… please don’t let me die. I need to tell him I love him… let me tell him… please let me tell him….”  

The rest drowned in hiccups and tears.

“I am sorry, Harbor,” She said, her voice whispered and drawn, “but this is how it goes.”

I never stopped crying. Each tear hurt as much as the next. I hung myself on that frail old woman, shuddering in fear, and yelling out in loss. Her thin arms wrapped around me and became a shield against the weathered dangers of reality. She was so warm; I wanted to stay there forever. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be a baby again, and start over. Just… start it all again.

“It’s time for bed, sweetie.”

My mind stopped as Death hugged me tighter, and began to hum a lullaby from so long ago I was surprised I still remembered it. She sang it just like grandma, soft and smooth, and even began to sway back and forth like her, kind of like a sailboat on a coast. I swear I could hear her voice again.  

Before I knew it, I became myself eleven years ago, sitting on my grandma’s couch with tired eyes.

“Did you like it?” I knew she was talking about the movie.

“Yeah,” I said, “I thought Cinderella would never get that slipper back.”

“So did I,” she said, looking at the picture of my mother sitting on the piano, “…so did I.”

I yawned.

“I’m so tired, Gram. Can I sleep now?”

“Yes. Go to sleep, Harbor,” she said in dull whisper, just as she kissed my forehead. “It’s alright. Go to sleep.”

Then she continued to hum, and through her sweet humming, the gray matter brought me back to the ice, breathing hard and fast. The blood never stopped pouring. Death smiled down at me, holding my hand as my soul slowly left my body. I watched from the outside as my legs and arms relaxed to disturbing stillness soon afterward. For a moment, I felt sick standing in the middle of the road, staring into my vacant eyes… but as Death coaxed me toward her, I turned away from my body and saw my gate.

That made me completely forget about my body, or that I had died for that matter.

I thought that the portal to the afterlife was supposed to be peaceful, with angels singing, white light and all that. That was not what I saw. What I saw was a gaping black void in the middle of the suburban intersection, making it look as though God’s hand came down from the heavens and ripped a chunk of scenery away. The hole rumbled with the hunger of a whale’s belly.

The wind seemed to draw me closer, nudging me toward the abyss. The clouds in the sky began to roll and moan and the roads themselves seemed to bend toward the hole with needy will. As my surroundings began to bend and twist under the mighty power of this gate, I found myself thinking, is this really what happens when you die? Is this where it all ends? Staring into the pitiless black, I wanted the answer to be a resounding “NO”.

Death must have noticed my thoughts as she turned back to me. “It’s okay Harbor,” she smiled. “It’s all right to be scared. This is how it’s supposed to be.”

“Really?” I asked, rather uncertain. The hole seemed to be getting wider, devouring my neighborhood. “Not really what I was imaging.”

She laughed. “It never is. But they all go into the void eventually.” She nudged me closer to the seemingly endless hole. “This is your chance. Leave it all behind, your feelings, your fears, and just go,” she whispered right in my ear. “Your time here is up, Harbor. End it. Run.” 

I would have too, if I had not heard a familiar voice calling me in the distance.

“Harbor, step away from the giant vortex of death!”

There he was, Brody Gallagher, my best friend, running toward me with a frantic expression as he held a small pistol pointed straight at Death. Before I could get my mind wrapped around the fact that Brody had appeared out of nowhere pointing a gun at the Angel of Death, two more people joined his side with more weapons. I recognized them, the homeless men who asked for money at the main street intersection. The only reason I remembered them was that Gwyn forced me to give the red haired one my allowance.

I would’ve thought it was strange for these people to show up out of nowhere with pistols and rifles, but the pure shock of it all kept me light headed and unable to think properly, so I turned back to Death, wondering what she thought of this recent development.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She spoke not in the gentle voice of my sweet Grandma, but in a deep, throaty voice reserved for the most intimidating of men who talk with fat cigars in their mouths.

“Shut up, Bethany,” he said in a disturbingly flat tone, suggesting this was not the first time he had been in this situation. He squinted as he aimed his pistol. “I’m going to kill you tonight.”

Suffice to say she did not look happy at all to hear that. She growled deep and low and her eyes became blood red. Her frail body began to convulse, and those black wings of hers fell to the ground. They were clip-ons. I felt very foolish for not running away, but more scared-out-of-my-mind than foolish as she ran around and grabbed me from behind, holding a rusted knife against my neck.

“You kill me, I kill your friend. You willing to risk that?”

The two men who came with Brody began to circle us, their weapons steadily pointed in the general area of my head. Had they not looked so confident holding those rifles, I would have been more worried about stray bullets. Even my captor could sense their skill as I felt her heart beat against my back like a rabbit’s foot. The knife she held pressed firmer against my neck, causing me to wince as some blood to trickle down my neck. Shivers ran through my body as her hot breath skimmed the hairs on my neck.

Bethany laughed nervously as Brody made his way closer with his gun, holding it with pitiless conviction. “I dare you to shoot me. One mere bullet won’t take me down.” He kept walking, and Bethany began to walk backwards, with me in tow, toward the black gate. “You shoot me and I kill him.” The knife gripped my neck even tighter. That was going to be sore tomorrow.

“I swear I will,” she spat, desperate for him to yield.

Brody didn’t listen to her, or cared to, because he and the homeless men fired three resounding shots just as she finished her sentence. I could feel each bullet hit her head as both our bodies ricocheted with the force. There was no blood… only a trail of gray matter as Bethany ran down the road, with the two older men in chase.

My stomach lurched as the sky flashed, and the gigantic wormhole shrunk as the world stitched itself together. The clouds recoiled and faded into the horizon, the trees curved back into straight lines, and I flew back into my body, greeting the cold night air with hungry gasps as the wound on my head disappeared along with the blood spackled ice.

It was not until I could see the pale moon in the sky again that I felt that all was truly, as it was.

“Are you okay?” I didn’t hear Brody come toward me. I was too busy reeling in my thoughts to notice. “Hey you.” He shook my shoulder as I sat up. “You okay?”

 I looked at him, and cried. I felt so pathetic…

“Harbor,” He tilted my head up with his hand, “you’re bleeding.”

I could feel the sticky wetness of blood as my fingers groped my neck.  

Then I fainted.

*

I saved Brody’s life once. I didn’t think I did at the time, but he told me I did later. Whether I had or not would never change the fact that it is one of my favorite memories.

We were in the convenience store he worked at, talking shit like usual, having a good time. People walked in and out, some saying “hi”, others keeping their head down the entire time while Brody checked their stuff through the laser. At one point in the night, customers just stopped coming in, and it was just him and me. I liked being alone with him, but I wasn’t sure this time as Brody had this serious look on his face, one that suggested he was contemplating something really… serious.

Sure enough, he was.

He said nothing at first. He simply began to close up the store, putting stuff away, shutting other things down. He swept some trash off the floor and straightened out soup can pyramids. He counted the money in the register. Then he spoke as soon as he put the money back in the slot. 

“I can’t take it anymore,” he whispered. “It’s too much.”

“What are you talking about?” I regarded him curiously. “What’s too much?”

“This,” he said, punching the cash register. I jumped. “School, my mom, work, other stupid…” His voice trailed off. “So much goddamn responsibility… I shouldn’t have to deal with all this.”

Brody flicked some switches on the wall and turned a knob behind the Bonsai Banana slushie machine. He then sat on the counter. I took a seat beside him as all the lights in the store shut off systematically except for the one directly above us, creating a halo of light. I could not see his eyes as he spoke.

“I feel like I’m living someone else’s life… someone a lot older than I am. Someone who’s more… I don’t know, more capable. I can’t handle it...”  

I could hear the air conditioning shut off with a hum, leaving only Brody’s voice occupying the lonely store air. He leaned over the counter to grab a cigarette, which was somehow already lit, and took one long drag before continuing.  

“You know that feeling where you just want to pick up all your shit, stuff it in a car, and just… drive away?  I’m having that on an epic scale.” I laughed at that, making him smile for a brief second before he returned to his more somber look. “That sounds really selfish and assholy, doesn’t it? I don’t mean to sound like some self-involved, angsty, ‘love me, please’ teenager, but I kind of am… I’m turning into that self-absorbed asshole, and I swear, it’s not my fault...” Another drag. He looked at me. “I’m screwed up, huh?”

“Seriously so,” I joked. We both laughed at that. He put out his cigarette on a porcelain ashtray. “But then again, I think ‘so is everyone else’. I know I am. I bet you know that.”

“You’re the most normal person I know.”

“Think again, man.” He raised an eyebrow at me, which I chose to ignore at the time. “I am the most messed up individual… I can’t leave the house without telling myself repeatedly that the random strangers I will inevitably pass on the street aren’t judging me, that not everyone in the world hates me.”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” That was that. “I just do. I feel so alone sometimes it gnaws real deep, like that feeling you get after eating the cafeteria meat loaf.” I loved making him smile. “You must know what I’m talking about… Know what I hate the most?”

“What?”

“Standing in the middle of a crowd, feeling completely alone. Worst experience of the century. It’s like, I’m surrounded by people of my species, my age, so there’s no reason for me to just want to die from loneliness, but I want to anyway. You know why? Because I’m messed up. We all are. I just happen to not give a damn how messed up I am, and neither should you.” I sighed. “Besides, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You have it easy. Don’t you dare go second guessing your worth, you jackass.” I nudged him with my shoulder. “You make the rest of us look bad.”

We said nothing for a long time, instead just choosing to sit there in silence, letting each other’s words soak in, and not having a clue what to say next. I wanted to lean over and brush those black bangs out of his eyes, but wasn’t quite sure how well that’d go over… so I sat there with him, under the single fluorescent light, slightly leaning into him, relishing his warmth, thinking ‘this is right where I want to be’.   

Eventually, Brody said he was tired and that he had a test tomorrow, slipped off the counter, and switched off the last light. We disappeared into total darkness, save for the soft beam of streetlight dancing off the store windows. Before my hand could reach out and push open the front door, Brody’s hand came on my shoulder and stopped me.

“You’re not alone, you know,” he said quietly. “You have me.”

I put my hand on his and said, “Dude, you sound like a Lifetime movie.”

Brody looked beautiful, standing there, smiling into the blue light.

A year later, he told me that this conversation stopped him from dragging a kitchen knife over his wrist for sweet release. I never believed that. For starters, I refused to believe that he would actually ever go through with it, and even more improbable was that I could say something that would move him not to take his own life. But the fact that he told me I did made me happy, and dragged me into the wide abyss called “hopelessly in love” just a little further, until I lost myself completely in its warm, enveloping darkness.

*

Hospital windows suck. I determined that much as the morning light came through and struck me in the face, arousing me from what seemed like the most satisfying sleep I had ever experienced.

Then I remembered last night.

So many words flashed through my head at once, I thought I was going to faint: Death, ice, blood, Gwyn, Grandma, lullaby, dark gate, hobos, knives, angels, Bethany, neck, Brody…. Brody, where was Brody?

A huge wave of relief and fear washed over me when I found him in a chair next to my bed, sleeping just like when I found him with his mother. The fact that he was there was proof that what happened last night was not a delusion provoked from a fall on the ice… I had so many questions for him, I wanted to reach over and wake him up and begin interrogation, but didn’t get the chance as an elderly doctor hobbled into the room, with a look on his face that suggested he didn’t expect me to be conscious.

“Harbor Ryan…” He spoke with much difficulty, and wheezed in between his thoughts. Stroking a long white beard that gave him more of an ancient wizard look than that of a professional doctor, the old man called for some nurses. Brody woke up as they examined me, asked me some personal questions, and removed the bandages from my neck, revealing a wound, which turned out to be nothing more than a light graze. I kept my eyes on my friend the entire time, wondering what he was thinking, unable to read into the straight expression he wore.  

“We didn’t expect you to wake up for another couple of days,” the doctor admitted as the nurses left in single file. His lazy eye drifted as he spoke, wandering in complete disorder beyond his control. “It is good to know that life hands out good fortune every now and then.”  

“Yeah…”

“Your friend here,” he motioned to a stoic Brody, “told me he found you unconscious on the ice. If he hadn’t found you, I’m not quite sure what would’ve become of you.” I looked in Brody’s direction for a long time. He kept his eyes on the window.

A beeper on the doctor’s belt went off, and he promptly excused himself. I did not bother to look as he left. I just bore holes into the side of Brody’s head, desperately trying to get in there and see what the hell was going on.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said after a good minute. He refused to look at me. “Do you want me to leave?”

I sighed. “Why the hell would I want you to leave?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted.

“What happened to Death- I mean, Bethany? That’s her name right?”

Brody looked at me sideways, unsure if he should answer. “She got away, but we’ll find her again… soon enough.”

The curtains fluttered with the air-conditioned breeze.

“Did my mom come by?” I frowned, not too sure why I asked that. It wasn’t like I cared if she did or not.

“Yeah. She left when she saw that you were okay. Gwyn wanted to come but…”

“I know,” I said quietly. She was sick. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Fear flashed in his eyes. At that moment, I knew I was straying into dangerous territory. I had a small urge to take back my question and just be glad that I was still breathing, but his voice erupted before I had a chance

“Listen, Harbor… there’s so much I want to tell you. So much that you deserve to know.” He scratched his scalp, rough. “I’m sorry that I’m being so vague but…” He stopped for a second, choosing his next words carefully, and said, “All I can tell you is that some strange stuff might be happening over the next few days, but it’s going to be alright. I won’t let anything happen to you.”  

There were many ways to interpret what he was thickly saying. What I got from it was that I was in potential danger, and that last night was just the beginning of things to come. That thought alone was enough to make me shiver…but I could see in Brody’s eyes that he meant every word, that I was going to be all right, and that he would never let anything happen to me. The shivers died down.

“Okay,” I said, ultimately deciding that it did not matter. I was still riding high on that ‘I am not dead yet’ wave, so even Brody’s maddeningly vague statements were fine by me. “You do what you do, and we’ll leave it at that.” I offered him a smile. “Besides, I know I’ll be fine if you’re with me.”

A look of shock washed over his face, but slowly transformed into a smile. “You mean that?”

I nodded. “It’s like you told me. You have me. No matter what.”

Brody got up and turned away. He wiped at his eyes as he made his way to the door. “I need to talk to the nurses, and see if they have any…,” he said in a mumble. The truth was, I wanted him to stay, but I was clearly making him uncomfortable, so I figured that some space would be good. At least, that was what I thought before he spoke again.

“For the record,” he said as he turned from the door. “Did you really mean it?”

“What? That I’m always here for you? No, course not. Can’t stand the sight of you. Piss off.”

“No, not that.”

I raised my eyebrows as he began to walk back toward me. “What are you talking about, fool?”

He grinned and looked up at the ceiling, probably to hide his blushing. “I thought I was going to let this go for another time, but I just… when you told Bethany that you loved me. Did you mean that?”

I froze. I began to panic, hyperventilate, have a heart attack, die inside repeatedly… you know, the usual when your greatest secret had just been found out by the person you’ve been trying to hide it from.

I coughed a laugh, wondering if there was any possible way to get out of this situation. I resorted to meaningless syllables. “I don’t… where did you… how…,” but before I could form an actual sentence, his lips were over mine, and I was silenced. My mind melted into a syrupy mush anyway, so there was no point in trying to talk. All I could focus on was the moistness of his lips, the soft breath through his nose, and the massive boner I just sprung under the sheets. I could not believe what was happening.  

When I finally did get a grip on reality, at least enough of it to realize that I was making out with this person I’d been in love with for a very long time, and that he was more of a mystery than I ever imagined, and that I almost died last night, and that I didn’t brush my teeth since yesterday morning and that my breath probably tasted like fish tacos, Brody pulled away and smiled.

“So, did you mean it?” He asked once more.

“Can elephants fly?” I asked, with a stupid grin plastered on my face.

“Oh god, please say yes,” was all he was able to breathe out before I pulled him back in and kissed him more urgently, savoring everything he was offering me. The electric heat that simmered through my body was just one of the many sensations I was experiencing as he molded his lips on mine. For one wonderful moment, the outside world drifted away from mine, and the dangers that lurked in the shadows soon forgotten. I was too busy savoring this life, this person who stirred only one thought in me as he pinned me to the hospital bed…

…that this was right where I wanted to be.