Chapter 1
Laying there.
In that room.
Everything seemed to pass in slow motion.
I knew I was alive and that I was in my body, or rather that it was my body, but one that I had no control over. At least not in that moment, or in the few hours before that led me to this… predicament.
There’s a doctor in the room. He has his white scrub on. A purple button down shirt and no tie. He has that smile on his face, one I get a lot, that just reeks of pity. I’m sure he thinks he cares, but how can he? He barely knows me.
Doctor Fischer seems nice enough though. He’s patching up the cut on my left arm, while a nurse on my right holds my hand. She’s trying to comfort me, but I just want to go home. I made a mistake, and the last thing I want is for them to believe is that I need “help”. Help around here is sticking me in a psychiatric ward. It’s supposed to be for the patient’s well being, but from what I’ve heard, it’s nothing short of a prison sentence.
Irene is sitting by the door. She’s the one that brought me to the hospital, and was around for the whole ordeal. I can’t quite tell what it is that she’s feeling. Does she blame herself? Is she just tired of my bullshit? I would be. You can say what you want about me, but one thing I’m not is oblivious to my own flaws. I am toxic as fuck, and I know that I always end up hurting the people that care about me the most, but it doesn’t seem like I can stop myself. Some part of me ends up blaming my friends. It’s on them for letting the relationship get to that point. It’s not my fault that I’m broken.
“All right. We’re all done here.” Doctor Fischer said as he set down his medical instruments.
I cautiously sit up, and swing my legs to the side of the hospital bed. The stitches don’t hurt, but it’s noticeable. A foreign object on my body, and a reminder of what I’m willing to do to relieve the pain.
Irene walks over with my coat. It’s shabby, and way too big for me, but I don’t care. It keeps me warm.
I look up at her, hoping, or maybe expecting, for Irene to say something. She just gives me a weak smile, looks down and walks toward the door. This is going to be a long ride back to school.
I’ve always struggled with anxiety, or depression, or… something. I’ve never been diagnosed, but I always felt like there was something wrong with me. I wasn’t like my other friends, or even my siblings. I kept to myself, never talked to anyone unless they talked to me, and when I did, no one understood me anyways. Maybe that’s why I never tried. I would just get the “Huh? What did you say? Stop mumbling Ron, I can’t understand you.”
“Get out of your head Ron. This is no time for self-pity.” That’s Frederick, my older brother. He’s giving me a look, one that’s pretty close to the one Doctor Fischer gave me, but this time it’s out of genuine concern. He’s trying to be strong, I can tell, but he’s on the verge of tears. I look away, out of shame. Frederick’s always been the perfect son. Straight A’s all throughout school. Went to Princeton on full-ride, and right after, got accepted into Harvard Law School. Fucking Harvard man, and here I am, barely scraping by at some mediocre liberal arts school.
Even so, Frederick is the only person in the world who I feel genuinely cares about me. He never judges me, or tries to lecture me. He’s just always there, looking out for me. Ready to pick me up whenever I fall, and I fall a lot.
I’m sitting at my dining room table. My dad is sitting by the window closest to me. His arms are folded, brows furrowed, staring off into space, unsure of what he could possibly say at this moment. A rarity for someone who seems to find pleasure in those moments when he’s lecturing me.
My mom’s on my left side, opposite to Frederick. Her eyes are red and puffy. She’s been crying all night I’m sure. She’s holding my hand, something that usually is very comforting, but it feels hollow right now. I wish I could feel the love that she’s trying to give me, but I can’t feel much of anything right now. I just want to run away. Hide somewhere, where no one can find me.
I look at her, make a weak attempt at a smile, and squeeze her hand. At the end of the table is my little brother Erick. He’s sitting there, twiddling their thumbs, waiting for the incredibly uncomfortable conversation to end. I’m supposed to be their older brother, the one who is taking care of them, being the shining example of a human being that Frederick is, but look at me. I couldn’t be farther from that right now. I’m a mess, a complete failure of an older brother.
“Ron. I am speechless right now.” My dad begins moving away from the window, and he places both of his hands on the table. Oh boy, here comes the speech. “What were you thinking? You could have died! Do you know how much stress you’ve put on your mother?”
I really wish Frederick would say something right about now. I feel myself zoning out as my dad’s words slowly become mumbled gibberish. Nothing more than the emotions I’m trying to avoid having to confront. Disappointment. Anger. Frustration. I nod and say okay to make sure he feels like he’s being listened to. My mom chimes in once in a while with a “Ron, we love you.” “We just want you to be happy.”
I can feel my dad lowering his voice, a sign that he’s at the end of his lecture. “Well, Ron. I really hoped you learned something from this.” He sighs, and carefully utters the words, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to go back to school. Maybe you should take a break.” My stomach churns. The idea of not being able to see my friends again, of not being able to walk with them at graduation, was not something I wanted to think about.
I open my mouth in protest, but decide against it. I’m exhausted right now, and I want to forget everything that happened, hoping that when I wake up tomorrow, everything will have been a dream.
I look at my phone: 6:09 AM. I must have woken up at least four times during the night, and it wasn’t easy falling asleep either. All I could think about was school, my friends, and what would happen when I went back. How far would the news have spread? Would they judge me for what I did? Would they ask me how I was doing? I begin playing out all the different scenarios in my head, and how I would respond to them. At one point, I had the whole first day back all planned out. Everything I hoped would happen.
“You’re doing it again aren’t you?” Frederick snickered from across the room.
“It’s not like I do it on purpose. I just get so lost in my thoughts, and there’s so many of them, it all becomes a jumbled, claustrophobic mess in my head.” I say, catching myself as I get ready to embark on another thought train. I look over at Frederick, but he’s not there anymore. He must have known where I was going, and took the chance to escape the infinite loop of incoherent thoughts that was bound to come.
I hear a knock on the door. “Ron? Are you awake? I made breakfast. It’s your favorite!” My mom exclaims in her sing-song voice. I look again at my phone: 8:52 AM. I didn’t realize how much time passed. I must have fallen asleep after Frederick left.
“Yeah mom, I’m awake. I’ll head over soon. Just give me a few minutes to change”, I manage to belt out as I remove the bed sheets, and push them off to the corner of my bed. I hear heavy thuds as my mom makes her way back to the kitchen.
I never got around to changing into my pajamas, so I’m still in my faded blue jeans and white t-shirt from last night. I take a few minutes as I pretend to put on some clothes, and then make my way to the dining room where most of my family is sitting down, eagerly awaiting my arrival. I know what you’re thinking, and no. They’re not waiting for me because I’m such a valuable member of the family. They’re waiting for me because my dad would never allow us to eat even a crumb of food until everyone has sat down at the table to say grace.
As I take my seat at the table, my dad clears his throat. “Ron, since you’ve been away at school for some time, why don’t you offer grace for this meal. Erick, your mom and I have been taking turns.”
He’s staring at me, with those expectant eyes. He does this to annoy me. He knows I hate praying. With a sigh, I recite the quickest prayer I know, as fast as humanly possible, and dig in. It’s blueberry pancakes and coffee. My mom was right. If there’s anything I miss from home, it’s my mom’s cooking.
I feel my mom’s gaze on me, but I don’t look up. I know she cares, and she just wants to see me happy, but it can be so overbearing sometimes. My mom’s always been the most loving, giving, and altruistic people I’ve ever known. I love and respect her for that, but when it feels like you don’t deserve any of it, that kind of love just comes off as excessive. No matter how much I try to love her back, in the limited ways I know how, it always feels like she gives back tenfold. That just makes me feel guilty and inadequate.
I quickly scrape the rest of my pancakes and take a last sip of my coffee. I start to get up from my seat, but before I can leave for my room, my dad stops me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to my room dad. I finished eating.” I try to say without coming off as impatient.
“No, you’re going to sit down, and finish eating breakfast with us. This is family time.” I can sense that frustration in his voice. I sigh and reluctantly take my place at the table. My dad looks around the rest of the family. “Now, why don’t we take some time to talk about how we’re all doing? I’d love to hear how school is going, or just whatever is on your mind.” He glances over at me when he makes that last comment.
Erick is the first to chime in. He seems really excited and says, “I just got my grade back for my presentation! I got an A, which I’m really happy about. I put in a lot of work for that project. The teacher even said that it was the best one she’s seen so far!” Erick has a huge grin on his face, and I’m really happy for him, but all I can manage is a half-hearted smile.
My parents are elated with the news. “Wow. I’m so proud of you Erick!” My mom exclaims. “I know how hard you worked on that presentation. I’m glad it went so well for you!”
“Yes. You deserve some kind of prize for all your hard work. Maybe later we can drive over to the mall and get you something nice.” My dad says that, but cringes at the thought of having to buy Erick another game. “A waste of time”, he says. “Instead of video games, you guys can be out playing sports, developing some talent. Video games will get you nowhere in life.”
My mom goes next, sharing about work. How tiring it is, but that she’s doing well and bound for a promotion. My dad talks about his latest trip to some other part of the world, where he’s meeting with high ranking officials and CEOs about a really important project he’s working on. His business trips are always a point of envy for us, since the most traveling we ever get to do is our yearly ski trips, which involve sitting in a car for two plus hours with nothing but music and our thoughts to keep us busy.
I’m the last to go, and I plan on keeping it short, as usual. I wait a few seconds to gather my thoughts. “I’m doing well, or as well as I can be after trying to kill myself again.”
My dad tenses up. “You weren’t trying to kill yourself Ron. You got emotional, probably from all the stress at school, and did something really stupid, but you’re not suicidal. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Yeah, you’re right dad”, I acknowledged. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a rough couple of days.” I pause, giving myself a few seconds to think about what I’ll say next. “I’m just ready to go back to school. I’ve been falling behind a bit in my schoolwork, but I think I can get my grades back up to at least passing.”
“Well Ron, that’s something we’re going to have to discuss later. The school isn’t too happy after the stunt you pulled.” My dad expressed. He put his utensils down, and pulled back his chair. A sign that family time was over, and we were free to go off and be on our own for the rest of the day.
