After Alex Died (9 page)

“So I’ve heard.” I glanced at Cameron, who
was stifling a grin.

“When you’re feeling a little better,
” Dr. Jones added. “You may want to have a talk with Destiny. She seemed worried about you.”

“I will.” I was worried about her too.

“I’ll go to lunch with you,” Cameron offered. I could see he had concern in his eyes.

“I’ll be okay,” I assured him.

He was still holding onto my elbow. I felt like he was afraid to let go of me, as if
I might fall again. Or maybe he felt like he was holding me up emotionally as well.

Cameron was quiet as we headed to the cafeteria. “You can let go of my arm,” I suggested. “I promise I won’t faint again.”

“Okay,”
he agreed, but he didn’t release his hold on me.

“Seriously, I’m feeling much better.”

When Cameron finally let go of me, he didn’t seem to know what to do with his arms, so he folded them over his chest.

“I’m sorry you lost your scholarship to Penn State.”

“I got into a college in Boston for the fall term. A partial academic scholarship. I’ll have to work part-time to pay for the rest. My parents already told me they wouldn’t pay for me to go to school. They were furious when I lost the basketball scholarship.”

“So you don’t play at all anymore?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“That’s too bad. You were really good.”

“I just don’t have it in me anymore.”

I knew how he felt. There was a lot I didn’t have in m
e anymore. I stopped and turned to face Cameron. “I had no idea that you ever thought about me.”

“I think about you every day. I’ve thought about you every day for the past two years.”

“I didn’t realize that you even noticed me before—everything happened.”

Cameron put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “I have a feeling there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

I could feel my breath quicken. “I’m not sure what you want from me,” I muttered.

“I think you do,” he said softly.

I shook my head. “No.”

Cameron’s eyes met mine and we stared at each other for a moment. For the first time, I noticed he had specks of gold in his green eyes.

“
No, you don’t know what I want
or
no I can’t have it
.”

“Just no,” I said.

“I’ll take that as a
no for now
.”

“I never expected you to be an optimist,” I said.

“I’m not. I used to thrive on a challenge, though. It’s been a long time since anyone’s challenged me. It’s actually been a long time since anyone has cared enough to even bother.”

Did Cameron think I cared about him? Did I? I wasn’t sure what was going on between us but it scared the
Hell out of me.

“We’d better get to lunch,” I said. “I’m getting hungry.”

“And I don’t want you to pass out again. Not that I minded catching you. I want to be there for you whenever you fall.”

I wondered if he realized how often I did fall, at least em
otionally, or if that’s what he meant. 

***

I sat on my bed holding my framed photo of Alex. I wondered if Cameron was right. Was I holding on to his memory too tightly? Had my life become all about his death?

There was a knock on the door. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone but the knocking was persistent. When I opened the door I was surprised to see Destiny.

“Can I come in?” Her voice was small and hallow.

“Sure.” I stepped away from the door so she could enter.

She fidgeted then bit the edge of her thumbnail. I wondered if she was actually going to say anything or if she expected me to talk.

Looking at her, dressed in all black, was kind of like looking at
myself. Her appearance made her seem hidden and closed her off from other people, which is exactly what I intended by dressing that way. Although lately, I had been lightening up on the dark eye makeup a lot and sometimes even wearing the bright scarf Sofia had given me.

“Do you want to sit down?” I gestured toward the bed.

Destiny took a seat on the edge of my bed and I sat on my desk chair. She picked up the photo of Alex that I had left on the bed.

“Is this Alex?” she asked as she examined his picture.

I nodded.

“He was cute.”

“And funny. And smart. And creative. All people remember is that he was the gay kid who got bullied and killed himself.”

“Can I ask you some questions?”

I gulped. What if she asked a question I couldn’t answer or one I didn’t want to answer? I was scared but I also wanted to be there for her if she needed me. “Okay,” I said finally.

“Were you the one who found him, after he killed himself?” She was still staring at his photo.

The image of Alex hanging in his bedroom closet flashed through my mind.

“Yes,” I replied.

“What was it like?” Destiny looked up at me, her eyes wide.

“It was the worst day of my life. He had already been dead a while when I found him, so there was nothing I could do to save him or bring him back. I felt helpless.
Hopeless. Completely shattered. As you can probably tell, I’m still broken. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put all the pieces of me back together again.”

“I’ve thought about killing myself,” she admitted.
“A lot. My mom puts so much pressure on me. It’s unbearable. She wants me to be perfect in every way and I’m not. I don’t think I can live up to her expectations of me. I thought dying would be easy but I never thought about what it would do to the person who found me. What if it was my younger brother or little sister?”

“I have so many wonderful memories of Alex but I’ll always have the image of finding him dead like that in my mind.”

“What about your mom and dad?”

I sighed. “Alex’s death completely destroyed my family. My parents blamed themselves. They didn’t think they did enough to help him. They felt like they should have done more to stop the bullying at school. But Alex wasn’t completely honest with them. He didn’t tell our parents how bad it had gotten. After Alex died my mom quit her job as a school guidance counselor. She said if she couldn’t even help her own son, how could she help anyone else? She took a job as a cashier at a retail store. That put a lot of pressure on my dad to make more money so they could make ends meet. They fought a lot. They completely ignored me. It was like their relationship with me died when Alex did. Throughout the ordeal my mom became obsessed with getting justice for her son. She was so preoccupied with sending those boys who killed her son, as she called them, to jail that the retail store finally let her go. My dad struggled to keep everything together. All my mom cared about was making those boys pay for what they did. My dad finally had enough and he left. After the boys were finally sentenced my mom had to go back to work to support
herself. She got a teaching job and put our house on the market. Both my mom and dad now live alone in one-bedroom condos and I’m here by myself at college. We used to be a family and now we’re like three separate people, who just happen to be related.”

“I don’t want that to happen to my family.
Especially to my sister. She’s only eleven.”

I grabbed a book from my shelf. “You can borrow this if you want. You’ll get an idea of what family members go through when they lose someone to suicide.”

She snatched the book from my hands. “
Those They Left Behind: Interviews, Stories, Essays and Poems by Survivors of Suicide
.  Yeah, I’d like to read this.”

“You can have it,” I offered.

She stood. “I know you’re busy, so thanks for talking to me.”

“Any time,” I said and I meant it.

***

I was absolutely exhausted after taking the kids to Waterloo Village, a restored 19th century canal town.
Visiting the village brought back memories of class trips from when I was in elementary school. When I was a kid, most of my classmates only cared about going to the gift shop and getting rock candy. The high school students weren’t that much better. The history of New Jersey wasn’t a big hit but listening to the lecture on Blacksmithing piqued the interest of a few of them.

Dr. Jones had to attend a wedding out of town, so she put the counselors in charge of the trip. We didn’t run into any major problems, except for Ryan and Hunter, who couldn’t stop laughing about horsehair stuffed cushions. When I thought about how silly teen boys could be, it didn’t take long for my thoughts to move back to Alex and how much he loved to laugh. He was so quick
-witted and always made me laugh, even about the zaniest things. I missed those laughs.

Cameron even impressed me by showing up early in the morning instead of rolling out of bed and just barely making it before the bus pulled away. I had a feeling he hadn’t gone out with Rachel and Renee. I noticed they had been more distant toward him since his testimony about bullying. It made me wonder which part of his story they didn’t like. I guessed it was because he was no longer a hot shot basketball player but I could have been wrong.

I had just gotten comfortable in my bus seat and closed my eyes for a second to rest for the bus ride back home when Cameron plopped down in the seat next to me.

“No napping, remember?” he said.

I opened one eye and peered at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m serious. The safety of six teenagers is in your hands. You need to stay awake and stay focused until we get them home and safely in their beds.
”

“It’s four o’clock. We’ll be back no later than five. Do you really think they’ll be going to bed?”

“Metaphorically speaking,” he corrected.

I nodded and shut the lone eye I had opened.

A second later I felt a finger poke me in the ribs. “No napping.”

“Fine,” I said as I opened my eyes and sat up in my seat. “You just want someone to annoy because you’re bored.”

“You’ve caught on to my devious plan,” he quipped.

“So, how do you plan to annoy me?” I asked.

“Want to make some Top Three lists?” His enthusiasm bordered on irritating and it was at least halfway between irksome and trying.

I screwed up my nose. “Not really.”

“Great, I’ll start,” he said, completely ignoring my non-acceptance of his offer.

I shook my head then gave an exasperated sigh. “Top three what?” I groaned.

“We’ll start with Top Three Songs.”

“Recent or ever?”
I asked.

“Ever,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“I’ve never played this game before,” I said.

“It’s not a
game
,” he stated. “It’s a fact-finding mission.”

“Okay, my Top Three Songs ever are: Come as You Are by Nirvana, No Rain by Blind Melon and People are Strange by the Doors.”

Cameron looked at me and his eyes narrowed. “All of the lead singers died young, didn’t they? Is that a coincidence?”

“Kurt Cobain shot himself at age 27. Shannon
Hoon died at age 28 of a cocaine overdose and Jim Morrison died at 27 of a suspected heroin overdose.”

“So is it actually the songs that you like or the stories that go with the musicians?”

“Both,” I admitted.

“What about Born This Way by Lady
GaGa?” he asked.

“What about it?”

He grabbed my hand and turned it over to expose my wrist where I had the tattoo of my brother’s birthday and Born This Way.

“You have it tattooed on your wrist. It’s not one of your f
avorite songs?”

I pulled my hand from his grasp. “No,” I snapped. “It’s not.”

Cameron looked hurt and I immediately felt guilty about it. I took in a deep breath then exhaled. “It was Alex’s favorite song.”

He nodded. Then he slowly took my other hand and turned it over exposing the other tattoo that was the day my brother died and It Gets Better. We both stared at the tattoo for a few se
conds. Then Cameron carefully placed his index finger on my wrist and gently traced the letters with his finger.

My breath caught as he continued to caress my wrist with his finger.

“Don’t you want to know what my Top Three Songs are?” he whispered.

I felt like every nerve ending in my body was suddenly on high alert as he continued to slowly and delicately move his finger over the lines of my tattoo. I swallowed. “Okay,” was all I could manage to get
out.

“Loser by Beck, Fall to Pieces by Velvet Revolver, and You and Only You by We The Kings.”

“Interesting choices,” I said.

He was still caressing me with his finger. As he moved from my tattoo and slowly progressed up and down each of my fingers, I felt small shivers surge through my body. It felt good,
too good
. I panicked.