“Oh, no, no. They wouldn’t understand,” he said, making it sound like only he and I could.
“No, they wouldn’t. They would get the wrong idea, and I would have only more pain. That would be the cruelest thing you could do.”
He swore on the head of everyone he loved that he wouldn’t provide a detail about our time together. “All I tell them is that I’m happy I can keep you company.”
“And how difficult it is for me not to cry all the time?”
“Yes,” he said, even though he hadn’t said that. Now I was sure he would.
“And how I was so depressed for a while that I actually thought about killing myself?”
“No. Did you?”
“Of course, Ryan. Kaylee and I were two parts of one person. It’s as if you lost half your body. What would you think of doing?”
“You don’t think like that now, do you?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But not when I’m with you,” I added quickly, and washed the look of fear from his face.
I could see his mind working. He was terrified of how my suicide would affect him. He’d be wondering if he could have done something to prevent it, maybe told someone. If I did it, he could be so full of guilt he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. “Look,” he said. “I know you can’t be yourself, enjoy yourself as much as you used to right now, but I promise I’ll make sure you have a good time no matter what. Whatever you want, you just tell me, okay?”
“That’s very sweet, Ryan. You know I’ve decided to try to go to Amanda’s party this Saturday. At least, I told her I would, but I keep thinking that I won’t want to go when the time comes.”
“Sure, I understand. But I’ll pick you up and stay right at your side all night. If you feel bad being there, I’ll take you home, even if it’s after only five minutes.”
“We’ll see,” I said. “I probably shouldn’t have promised her I’d go.”
“Everyone will understand if you change your mind. Don’t worry.”
We pulled into my driveway. Mrs. Lofter’s car was there. Ryan started to get out to rush over and open my door. He was treating me like fragile china. If I wanted him to carry me to the doorway, he would.
“Wait,” I said, before he got out of his car.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just remembered that my father and the nurse took my mother to a real psychiatrist today.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t know what to expect, Ryan. Besides, I think the emotional strain of going to school was much more than I anticipated. I’m just going to go in and go to sleep for a while as soon as I can,” I said.
“Right. Well, I’ll call you later.”
“Thank you,” I said, and got out. I waved and smiled at him before I entered the house.
&
nbsp; By now, I hated the heavy silence that greeted me at home. Mother was often sedated and asleep. Mrs. Lofter would nod off in Mother’s room or go to hers. Sometimes I heard her playing the television with very low volume. Daddy was at work more often now. I never thought I’d be so happy to go to school, but the funeral-parlor atmosphere was starting to annoy me. Intending to go up and watch some television, I turned quickly toward the stairway, but Mrs. Lofter came out of the living room, surprising me.
“Was it difficult?” she asked.
“Was what difficult?”
“Returning to school,” she said, her eyes wide with surprise that I hadn’t known what she meant.
“Of course,” I said, making it sound like her question was pretty dumb. “Everyone, even my teachers, was overwhelming with pity and sympathy. I couldn’t even talk without choking up. I cried in the girls’ room about a dozen times.”
She nodded. “It’s good for you to keep busy nevertheless.”