Great

1.

Most remarkable stories begin with an oversized ‘Once Upon a Time’ and a mental scene of luscious green hills over flowing with flowers and singing birds. Maybe even a few cuddly looking deer, rabbits, and bear cubs. Truly its’s beautiful to think of, since most can almost hear the gorgeous melody of every fairy tale ever told. Sadly… the fairy tales you grew up hearing are based off an original story that’s more likely to be true and much, MUCH, darker. While there is a lot of beautiful and fragrant fresh cut grass, it’s more of a field than hills. The only singing birds are the obnoxious screaming of the seagulls overhead. What could have been princes or princesses are just three nine-year-olds chasing each other until they fall over laughing because some mischievous gopher dug a hole in an inconvenient place.

Breathing heavy and giggling sporadically, these children can hear others screaming and laughing on the small playground behind them. Recess is almost over and they don’t want to go back in and listen to an adult anymore. At least, this is how one of them felt. He’s a little taller than the other two, with shockingly black curly hair and bright blue eyes. He rolled onto his stomach to tell the other two he wanted to hide in the woods until school was over, and saw them holding hands. He felt a brief and unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Before he could ask why she was holding his hand, the bell rang sharply and teachers started yelling for the students return. Feeling annoyed, the boy stood and brushed off the grass on his t-shirt and old khakis. He ran off before the other two had finished standing. They looked at each other curiously.

‘Wait for us, Jason!’ The young girl yelled as they ran after him.

…

Nine years pass and their senior class had begun receiving letters from every single college they had applied for. The scholastic year was coming to a close, and our three laughing nine-year-olds are no longer covered in grass. Lately they’ve been buried in papers, books, and coffee. Jason’s nails had been all but chewed off, and Jean could no longer tame her long hair and was constantly in a loose bun hanging off the back of her head. Andrew was the only one who seemed in control. Today, it was because he finally knew what was going to happen. They had met up around Jean’s locker after they finished lunch, when Jean slammed her locker closed in a whirlwind of loose notes from junior year.

‘Congratulations, Andrew!’ Jean was jumping up and down, ignoring her calculous final exam floating to the floor.

‘Yeah, man. Congrats.’ Jason wasn’t as enthusiastic.

‘I can’t believe you got into Columbia!’ she exclaimed.

‘Really? His father, brother, and sister went there.’ He stated.

‘And my Grandfather…’ Andrew added, embarrassed.

‘Of course he did.’ Jason looked like he was getting agitated.

‘We’ll only be five hours away from each other!’ Jean was jumping again ‘I didn’t tell you guys, I got a partial scholarship to Yale!’

‘Haven’t you already been accepted?’ Jason asked, slightly red. What’s going on with him today?

‘Yeah,’ she answered with a smile, ‘but they just told me I was awarded something like ten grand a year from that stupid essay that had my hair falling out a couple months ago.’

‘That’s amazing, Jean!’ Andrew told her, ‘I’m so happy for you!’

‘I gotta get to class.’ And Jason was lost in the lunch crowd of their California High School.

‘Don’t give me that look, Andrew.’

‘What look? I wasn’t even looking at you!’

‘Not yet,’ She said, ‘But you will.’

Andrew Morrow and Jason Littlefield were like opposites when it came to appearance. Andrew was tall with broad shoulders and sandy blonde hair he refused to groom unless he was forced to, and a pale complexion that you only get from your family hailing from Britain, Ireland, or Scotland. The stronger the sun screen, the better. Jason had jet black hair he obsessed over, more of an average height, and scrawny build. His complexion looked like his family came from France, or Quebec.

Andrew and Jean could always feel Jason’s envy. His desire to be like them, when all along the three of them couldn’t find anyone else to be close to. They were one in the same, closer than siblings, closer than anything. After Jason’s father passed away, they just grew closer and closer. When Jean’s parents were out of work for a year, Andrew and Jason often brought them dinner and games just to relieve the stress for a few hours. They’ve since joined forces and opened their own accounting firm, which made them busier than ever before. The boys realized Jean preferred it that way, spending many weekends with Ezra, her godfather.

Ezra Corda was the perfect impression of a gentleman. Never seen in anything but a colored shirt, and any form of khaki, he was a happy retired widower. The only time Jean couldn’t see him, or reach him at all was the week his wife, Xandra, had died of cancer. It had been ten years and Ezra spoke of her as though she had just left for a small shopping spree. Ezra had spared no expense when it came to her treatment, but the leukemia had been far too aggressive. Andrew knew in his heart she was meant to pass on. He was never able to find the right words to comfort and explain his feelings, so he just kept quiet whenever she was brought up around him.

Andrew wasn’t immune to chaos at an early age. While his friends lost family members, or the lifestyle they were accustomed to had been threatened, Andrew couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t supposed to be a part of this world. As he grew, so did the feeling this wasn’t supposed to be his life, this wasn’t supposed to be how you live. Feeling imprisoned by the battles with his parents, whether it was going to public or private school, fancy work parties he was expected to attend, or which college would become his alma mater, the cage he saw so clearly in his mind would shrink.

Two years after the death of Jason’s father, Charlie Littlefield, Andrew’s cage collapsed. Jason had once again picked a fight with him over the brief relationship Andrew and Jean had had between third and fourth grade. Obviously, it wasn’t a very meaningful relationship since all they did was argue over which flavored ring pop was theirs and giggle in a corner. Andrew knew it wasn’t Jason’s fault, that it was poor timing, and that everything around him resembled a house of cards out of Alice in Wonderland. Queens and Jacks looming over his head screaming ‘OFF WITH HIS HEAD!’. After Jason had stormed out, in a rage about how left behind he had been feeling since his supposed best friends dated, Andrew just couldn’t do anything. He waited until his parents left to meet Daniel, his brother, for lunch since he was in town on some obscure architecture business.

Andrew closed all the curtains in his room, turned off all but his small night stand light, and locked the door into his room. He turned the faucet of the bathtub to full blast until it was half full of steaming water that wouldn’t scald the skin. He stripped to his bright pink, yet fashionable, briefs and picked up the box cutter his families gardener kept in his shed. Tears formed at the corners of his starburst eyes, and only two fell. One for each wrist. As he sank into what he had wanted to be his final bath, he thought of Jean and of Jason. His only regret, while superficial, was that he couldn’t leave a last will and testament hoping it would ease their pain and improve their lives.

As the pain receded, Andrew started to smile. He had thought his bath would have been too hot but it was perfect. If anything, it felt like it was getting warmer. As if he’d been out shoveling snow and now sprawled out on the couch under several blankets. He didn’t care, he just let his mind go and feel into this beautiful cotton like puff that held him firm and zipped him around. It brought him to Jean’s home, he thought he could see her, but it was only her mother. It looked like she was two dimensional, something like a paper doll with one arm frantically waving around, and the other stuck to the side of her face. Andrew assumed she was in the middle of an important call. Since those are the only ones she ever answered.

Next thing he knew, Andrew was zipping across town to the high school. He let himself sink a bit farther into the stuffed animal like stuffing, and smiled. When he looked around, he realized he was in the library looking at Jason. Andrew leaned over to get a closer look, to be sure. It was the weekend after all. He had thought this place was locked up tight whenever it wasn’t school or office hours or whatever. Jason just sat there, looking as if he were being projected through a crystal. Jason looked frustrated, and sad. So sad. Why was Jason always sad lately?

Andrew started to call out to him when everything went dark. He felt himself laid down, and he quickly felt exhausted. The plushy puff of comfort had gone. He felt scratchy and cold. He wondered if he were waking up. Or maybe this was hell. He’d be doomed to eternity flying around Jean and Jason only to be thrown in a dark cold room whenever he tried to speak. He felt pain. He thought there wouldn’t be any more pain. He felt so tired but tried opening his heavy eyes anyway.

He was right. He was in hell. There were white stretchy and itchy bandaging around his wrists, keeping the gauze over his self-inflicted wounds. His mother was asleep in the corner of a hospital room, and a stranger was knitting in the other. She looked up at him and smiled, slightly. She finished her row before standing up and leaving the room. Andrew looked around and found himself hooked up to empty bags, wires, and beeping monitors. The realization of having been found too soon set in and his stomach dropped. It felt like those two tears would soon be met with countless others, but he couldn’t bring himself to let them out. He felt worse than he had before his bath.

The knitting woman walked back into the room with a tall slender older man wearing a too bright white jacket. This awkward looking doctor glanced in the corner for a moment and stepped up to Andrew’s hospital bed.

‘Welcome back, Andrew.’ He greeted quietly, ‘I’m Doctor Jade, do you remember what happened today?’

Andrew stared at this man’s mouth as he spoke and refused to make eye contact. He refused to open his mouth. He wanted to ask who found him, why they saved him, and where would he be locked up now. Wanted to, but could only move from staring at Jade’s mouth to staring at the speckled ceiling tiles. He started counting them as the doctor spoke.

‘I know you aren’t feeling well, Andrew. We want to help keep you from doing this again.’ Andrew could feel Jade looking at him. ‘If your mother hadn’t found you when she did, you wouldn’t have made it. I understand that you didn’t want that to happen, and we’re ready to show you what this world has to offer you.’

Andrew counted 68 tiles and wondered if they were full of asbestos. He heard a sigh, and a few footsteps leading away from his bed. The doctor murmured something to the knitter, and closed the door behind him as he left. Before Andrew could try to let himself go back to sleep, the door opened again and a nurse walked up to him and took his vitals. She was a young and almost pretty woman with a ponytail and obnoxious patterned scrubs. She didn’t speak to Andrew while she did everything. When she was done, the knitter was at his side. He was starting to feel frustrated. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep and stay asleep until his living nightmare ended.

‘Andrew?’ She asked, ‘I’m Rose. When someone comes into the hospital for suicide, we put them on a 48-hour watch. To make sure you’re safe. If there’s anything you need, just let me know and I’ll make sure you get it.’

Without having looked at her, she walked back to her chair and Andrew heard the click clack of metal knitting needles begin. If he had the energy, he’d have tried to roll over and face the wall, but it felt like his head were made of iron so he just stared at the 68 tiles above him until his mind was quiet enough to let him drift away once more.

When Andrew woke the next day, after having a couple interruptions in his sleep with the almost pretty nurse demanding his vitals, he felt like he’d never feel well rested again. Andrew glanced at the corner his mother had spent the night in, only to see a crumpled mass of blankets and pillows. The knitter was gone too, seemingly replaced by an older man wearing half-moon reading glasses and very busy doing his crossword puzzle. Never wanting to move, Andrew gazed once again at the tiles he’d counted so many times the night before. It was like he could ignore the world completely if he just counted. He had made it through half the ceiling when the door swung open and an angry click clack of stilettos headed right for him.

‘Andrew Morrow?’ She asked, looking down at her plastic clipboard.

‘Yes?’

‘How are you feeling Mr. Morrow?’ She still hadn’t looked up from her shiny notes.

‘Fine, I guess.’ He answered, ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Ms. Bouchard,’ She stated, ‘your social worker. So what’s going on Mr. Andrew, are you unhappy? Did you fail a test? Girlfriend break up with you?’

‘Uh, no I guess.’ He told her awkwardly

She looked up from that stupid piece of plastic long enough for Andrew to realize she wore glasses, like a librarian with a chain around her neck, and very, very, dark curly hair. She wasn’t the thinnest women in his mother’s generation, but she wasn’t exactly large. She seemed to care more about her attire than her appearance. Andrew saw several gaudy rings on her finger and seemingly pearl earrings.

‘You’ll have to do better than that, young man.’

‘I’m sorry?’ He asked her

‘You’ve hurt your parents quite a bit, if you hadn’t noticed, with your selfish decision the other day.’ As she said it, Andrew felt his stomach tighten and sink.

‘I wasn’t trying to be selfish,’ He tried to explain, ‘I thought it would be best for everyone. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone...’

‘Of course, you didn’t. Most people who attempt suicide are looking for attention,’ She told him, ‘obviously, this is one of those cases.’

As Andrew stared at her forehead, since she was furiously scribbling all over her precious hunk of junk, she told him:

‘Due to the severity of your self-inflicted injuries, I’m afraid you’ll finish healing here until your doctor allows your release, once they’ve done that you’ll be sent to an institution of your parents choosing to make sure you won’t make this foolish choice again.’

‘Uh...’ was all he could say.

‘Uh nothing, Mr. Morrow,’ She said straightening her back, ‘You’ve put many people through a lot of unnecessary sorrow. Personally, I think sending you to an institution is a little extreme, but the State would rather be safe than sorry.’

She was half way out the door before Andrew could fully understand what had just happened. For the first time since he was a toddler, Andrew cried. Silent tears flowed from his eyes threatening to flood, but they never did. He felt terrible. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, and truly hadn’t thought he’d survive and cause more damage to everyone around him. He dried his cheeks and rolled over hoping to sleep life away, when the door opened again. Another nurse he hadn’t met walked in to check his vital signs. He was getting tired with the incessant interruptions. He could ignore the silent guardian sitting in a corner of the room all the time, but the nurses were making it more difficult to avoid his mother. She hadn’t left the hospital since he woke up with her curled up on an armchair.

This nurse was older than the others, looking to be in her early to mid-thirties. Most of these nurses have their hair up in a ponytail. It was hard to tell them apart most of the time. This one walked in with a calm confidence while reading the chart kept on the outside of his door. She looked up, saw Andrew looking at her, and closed the chart.

‘Hello, Andrew.’ She said warmly.

‘Hi.’ He greeted, feeling frustrated with having to see so many people already today.

‘I’m Anne, your nurse this morning.’

‘Great.’ Andrew held out his arm for her to cuff and check his blood pressure.