The anticipation, the waiting, the exhilarating guessing that always leads to complacency and an overwhelming start when the ring finally breaks the silence and lifts eyes from shaded pages of figures and forms to the phone. But no phone call was coming, and he knew it. He didn't know why he didn't wait by the phone, it felt like he wouldn't ever have to worry about another call again. He sat in his room, comfortable in an old tank top and pajama pants. The wind curled his curtains and freshened his room. He stared out for a second, cursed and shaded in the lonely tree on the horizon.
"Looking out on golden grass in December," he scribbled in his sloppy hand at the bottom of the page. "Unnatural to a cold weather creature to see color in winter." he continued. "Flickering beams bouncing from the sun." He chewed on the pencil, flipped it, erased. "More lonely than," he thought, considered, thought, and snapped the notebook shut and threw it.
"More lonely than what?" He scoffed, pulling his knees up to his chest, pushing his quickly drenching face into soft skin of his arms.
Two knocks before entering, "Honey, I did your laundry." She stood still at his door a basket of shirts and pants in her arms, "What's wrong, baby?"
"Nothing." He wiped his eyes and stared out the window.
"You should put on more clothes," She opened his drawers and started to stuff in the clothes, "Or close the window, it's freezing in here." She opened another drawer, "You'll catch a cold."
"Yeah, you're right." He pulled the window shut, forcefully.
"Why don't you get out and go for a walk, might make you feel better." She suggested, calmly ignoring his bitter mood.
"Yeah, maybe." he placated not withholding attitude.
"I know it's hard, first Christmas away; but you know we can always talk about it."
"Yeah." He sighed.
"I'm serious, baby. What's been bothering you?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"I'm not as simple as you might think, I've done some living." he felt the dip of his bed as she sat next to him, "Is it a girl?"
"No, well, no."
"Okay, how was having your cousin stay the weekend?" She asked, "I didn't want you to be home alone, incase something happened."
"It was alright, he's a cool kid, I guess."
"We should have him over more often."
Shivering, despite the warmth of the evening sun, as I walked down a shaded path. I had my arms wrapped around me, holding me the way they'd used to hold me. I was past crying. I'd been crying for hours. I'd been walking on this trail for hours too. I'd gone at least six miles, walking quickly, parallel to a winding dirt road. I hadn't seen a single other human being the entire time. Perhaps they had been there and I hadn't noticed or perhaps not. I didn't mind the silence. I was tired of talking, listening, hearing hurtful things.
By the time I reached the cliff, I wasn't even thinking any more. I just walked towards this ridge and then stopped. I stopped everything; breathing, moving, standing, everything. I was sitting on my knees, at the edge of the world. I could hear the waves hitting rocks and birds calling to one another, bickering and sweet. I could smell the pungent odor of rotting fish exposed in low tide. I laid myself out on my belly and crawled. I peered over the edge, my view obstructed twenty feet down by a jetting rock. The waves, white with air bubbles struck the rocks with a force I could feel in the sound.
Is this what Robbie felt like? This clear headed thinking of nothing, so close it hurts feeling of distress? Did he hold that blade to his wrist, seeing the shining beauty in the reflections on the silver blade. Did he admire the shadow as it curved around his wrist? Did he watch the blood come out, seeping first, flowing second, dripping down his elbow as he did the other one? Did he feel as alone right then as I felt? Was he thinking about a repeat attempt, just as I was thinking of my first?
I swung my feet out in front of me and dangled my feet. I had expected to feel somewhat queasy with the unstable feeling. But I didn't really feel anything. Just a little shove from the heels of my hands and I wouldn't know anything. I wouldn't feel anything. I wouldn't hurt anymore. Just a little shove, like jumping off of the top of the brick wall in the school parking lot. Just a little shove. I wasn't even realizing what I was doing, I was slowly inching towards the edge, the ground getting thinner under my thighs. The sound of birds and waves disappeared and I felt the fast paced beating of my heart in my ears. Thumping quickly, getting faster, my chest heaving to keep up.
"Hey!" I was almost gone, almost over with the start from the breaking of the silence. I fell backwards, looking up at the gray sky, at the flying birds, suddenly aware of the pain in my chest. "You should be careful, you might fall." It was an English accent. Not an American.
"And if that was the objective?" I smiled, staring straight up.
"I'd be really sad." his feet were soft coming up behind me.
"You don't even know me." I sighed, "What am I to you?"
"A very attractive young man." He stated, getting ever closer, "But sadly, I'm sure, that only makes you more uncomfortable."
I smiled, suddenly warm for the first time that afternoon, "Nothing makes me uncomfortable." I sat up, I hear him jump towards me, his hands on my shoulders pulling me back, "I wasn't going to jump." I pulled out of his grip.
"Just making sure of that." he held me close, arms wrapped around my shoulders and chest, he'd fallen while pulling me backwards, "You're not as light as you look." he panted.
I could only see the pale, freckled arms, covered with light brown hair. I gripped onto his wrist and held them, feeling warm, wanted.
"What are you doing slipping off an edge like that?" He let go, pulling away.
"I was going to jump." I sighed, lying back and staring up at the sky.
"I thought you said-"
"Before you yelled at me, I was going to jump; but I couldn't kill myself in front of someone, so I was pulling back. I can just do it tomorrow."
"Where are your friends?" He asked looking around.
"I don't have any." I sighed
"You're traveling through Italy alone, to kill yourself?"
"No, I came here to see my mom, and now I'm going to kill myself."
"Why?" He was quiet.
"It's not like anyone would care."
"I'm sure someone would, your mother."
"She hates me." I shook a little, but I kept the sob inside.
"Who could hate such a pretty, sensitive thing?" He asked, sitting down to my side. Red hair, freckles, everything I had ever learned to be Irish in origin. He was wearing khaki shorts, had a back pack sitting next to him, and a walking stick.
"Where are your friends?" I sat up, turning to face him.
"Back at the hotel, being lazy." He shrugged, I decided to take a little walk. Why do you think no one would care?"
I just looked at him, this stranger that I didn't know. He wanted me to tell him everything, but I had no idea who he was.
"If you'll be dead tomorrow, you might as well tell some impartial kid." he shrugged. I sighed, hearing his argument.
"I came here to visit my mom just yesterday. I haven't seen her in two years." I felt the tears coming down my face, "And I decided to be honest with her, and I told her about my... boyfriend, back home." He smiled a little, "And she blew up and said that she pretty much hated me."
"That's not really a reason to kill yourself." He assured, "Parents take that kind of stuff a little hard." he rubbed my back, I shivered but didn't stop him. I wanted this kind of affection. "She'll come around."
"Yeah well, maybe she will." I smiled hopefully, "But then I called my boyfriend, to feel better. And he wasn't alone." I fully sobbed, trapping my face in my palms.
"Were you on exclusive terms." His fingers moved in small circles on my back.
"I sure as hell thought so."
"He's a fool and not worth the trouble."
"I really love him... loved him." I corrected myself, "But long distance never works."
"Do you need a place to stay, for a night?" He asked, gently rubbing my back, up to my neck. I nodded. He helped me up by my elbow. "I didn't catch your name."
"Shawn." I smiled, wiping away the last few stubborn tears.
"Paul." he offered his hand, I smeared my tears on my pants before taking it.
The hotel was really just a dilapidated house with rooms for rent. More along the lines of a bed and breakfast than a hotel. But there wasn't any breakfast, or any other meal, served there. Nor was the bedding provided, or the bathroom down the hall cleaned. Paul only looked slightly embarrassed as he explained the limits of their budget, and how the picture on the internet looked better. He was with two other friends, traveling through Europe on odd jobs. At this particular place, they were painting the outside, as well as the hallways for the week's rent. His friends, Mary and Will, had left home as friends, but morphed along the way into something more. Paul seemed to lament this new relationship, as he was the third wheel in a lot of situations. He had his own room, alone, while they shared. He walked alone, while they held hands. Every where they went and what ever they did was a stinging reminder of how alone he was. I could, at that moment, understand just a little of what that loneliness felt like. And suddenly we didn't feel quite so alone.
So I stayed in his room, wrapped in extra blankets and warm, fuzzy arms. Lips on my forehead, on my neck, playing with me, showing the experience they had. Hands, with just as much talent, teaching me all through the early portion of the night. And a smiling, sedate, freckled face in the morning. Welcoming me, with a slight accent, to stay longer, to go with them, to never be alone even if it were only for the next few months.
"It's a lot of walking, but it's not bad." he held my shoulders firmly, keeping me pinned to his chest, "And you'll learn so much." He pursued.
"I don't have anything." I stammered, "All I have is what I brought with me last night."
"Surely you can creep back and get your things from your mother's?" He asked, more than stated.
"I could. But I'll need something to put them in. I can't lug a suitcase around Europe."
"I can find you a back pack, easy." He assured rubbing my shoulders and resting his head back into the pillows.
"What about my dad?"
"What about him?"
"School?"
"If you don't want to go." He sighed.
"I don't know. I'd miss graduation, I'd miss prom."
"How old are you?" A sudden panic seemed to spread across his face.
"I'll be seventeen this month." I smiled, feeling older knowing it was so close.
"Oh." He looked really white, "Shit." He finished, rubbing my back a little and then laughed, "Never though I'd go sodomizing the youth."
"What?" I looked at him, laughing, "How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"Really?"
"You're not even out of secondary school?"
"Um... high school?"
"Yeah, yeah." He seemed to be working it out in his head, "You're only sixteen?"
"Yup." I sighed, laying my head back on his chest.
"Damn." He sighed, "If you were in University, I'd drag you along. But you have to finish school."
"Yeah, I guess." I sighed into his chest, closing my eyes and trying to find some sleep to comfort me. "I don't have to go home."
"What? And I get charged with kidnapping? And that... statutory rape?" He sighed, "You can't come."
"It wasn't rape." I mumbled naively, feeling his arms tighten around me and lips on my forehead.
"Glad to hear it."
"Where are you from?" my curiosity was sparked by the sudden realization that I knew nearly nothing about him.
"North London."
"You look Irish to me." He laughed.
"I've got some Irish in me... yes."
"Are you in school?"
"Trinity College at Oxford."
"Oxford?"
"You've never heard of Oxford?" he chuckled, pushing hair behind my ear.
I rolled my eyes, "Just didn't think you had the brains." I pinched his side a little.
"When you're crying, just know that you started it." I didn't have time to react before his hands assailed my sides, and his body twisted to hold me down. Before long I was sobbing in pain as the laughter died from a lack of air. "See... I told you." He panted, allowing me, crumpled in the blankets to heave my way to normalcy. "Now are you willing to lie nice?" he asked, gently stroking my still shaking back. I nodded, his arms helping me up towards him. "Once more? For the road?" He whispered in my ear, directed my body so my back was pressed close into his chest. I couldn't say no, not with his wondering hands and his pinching lips.