Zach and Carson were officially
in a relationship together. Although I did not like it, Carson being my arch
nemesis and all, I had agreed to support them. I had once asked Zach if he
loved Carson and actually cared for him. He told me that he did and that sealed
my commitment to supporting their relationship, even though I secretly resented
it. Since going somewhat public Zach and Carson had been changing. Zach was
becoming more and more obviously gay and Carson took down the wall that made
you think that he was just weird. Although I had secretly told myself I was
going to be nicer to Carson, for the sake of Zach’s and my friendship, Carson
had taken it as a sign of weakness and was grow ever increasingly more
confident in his disdain for me and trying to control every aspect of our
apartment. It was obvious that he controlled Zach, but now he was trying to
control me, creating an atmosphere filled with tension.
I had always taken a perverse
pleasure in annoying the shit out of Carson and pushing him to his unknown
edge. Driving Carson nuts was especially easy. Our bedrooms were next-door to
one another and shared a mutual wall, which I had placed my bed against when I
first moved in. I had always tossed and turned a lot while sleeping, I knew
this. Still, you never really know your sleeping habits until you share a room
with someone and ask them. Zach, who I had shared a room with the previous
year, had once informed me that not only did I toss and turn a lot in my sleep,
I did so violently. He said I would be laying there in bed and then I would
push myself up and twist in mid-air and come crashing down. I am a big guy so I
know this tendency must have made an awful racquet. He also informed me that I
talked in my sleep. In the mornings I would sit up and somewhat carry on a
conversation with him before returning to the prone position and falling back
asleep. I have no recollection of these actions; therefore, I am assuming that
I sleep talk. Worst of all probably was my snoring; let us just say I could
drown out a construction site.
Before Zach and Carson came out, I had never really
thought much about any annoyances caused by my sleeping habits or any other
tendency of mine. However, it seems that one of my most annoying habits was one
of my more conscientious ones. I had never noticed, or if I did I never cared,
that I had a tendency to tap, hit or occasionally ram into the shared wall
between Carson’s room and mine. Carson never complained, except for the
occasional accidental ramming into, mostly because he knew I would have told
him to piss off. I take that back, I did occasionally notice what I was doing,
especially the tapping on the wall. Sometimes I would lightly tap out rhythmic
beats on the wall to calm my body and quiet my mind while I was trying to go to
sleep. I know it sounds absurd but around this time I was not sleeping well at
all, and I just stumbled upon this one night. It is not my fault that Carson
shared the most easily accessible wall. Okay, I must rephrase the previous, I
completely knew that Carson probably heard me, but I did try to keep it down
for the most part. I had always figured that if Carson was hearing me, he
probably thought it was Morse code or something, and keeping him awake with
this ‘coded message’ was just an added benefit. Also, if he had a problem he
could either ignore it and buy himself some earplugs or come and ask me to stop
and hope that I am in a good mood.
One day after that Fateful
Night—it may have even been on that Fateful Night, after everyone had went
to sleep—Zach asked me if I would quit tapping out Morse code on the wall. They
had decided to use Carson’s bedroom as a shared sleeping chamber. Carson had
asked him to, because although he may not be the brightest bulb in the box, he
was not stupid and knew if he was to ask me that I would only start doing it
more. I honestly do not know how we had gotten on the topic, maybe Zach had
mentioned them sleeping in there and I asked if they ever heard my television,
snoring, tossing and turning, or any other thing that I do at night. Since he asked,
and threw in some sappiness about it being a personal request from
friend-to-friend, I almost felt obligated to comply. I tried to explain my
reasoning, but eventually gave in and obliged and told him that I would try. A few
days later, Zach and Carson were in the latter’s room while I was sitting on
the bed in mine. I believe that I was on Facebook, but more probable for the
time was Farmville on Facebook. Not even thinking about it, I reached over and
drummed out a little tune on the wall with my fingers. I heard a little tap
back coming from the other side of the wall and a few minutes later I noticed
Zach had updated his Facebook status to something to the effect of, “I wish
someone would stop trying to tap out Morse code.” It took me a minute to
realize that he was talking about me. Upon making the realization, I threw back
my head to laugh and THUMP, my
cranium collided hard with the wall. I chuckled to myself as I heard footsteps
coming down the hall and a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I replied in an imitation sophisticated
British accent. Zach was standing in the doorway glaring, but yet still half
smiling, at me, “Really man, come on!” I tried to play stupid, “What?” His
expression told me that in his mind he was saying, You know what, so I gave it up.
“Oh did you hear that?” I said trying to imitate genuine
surprise. He did not say a word, but his expression replied, The people on the first floor heard it.
“Oh sorry, I accidently hit my heard when I was laughing.”
He looked skeptically at me and said, “Of course you
did.”
I reassured him and he eventually laughed and said,
“Never mind. But can you keep it down, Carson has to wake up early in the
morning and is trying to go to bed.”
“Alright, I will try,” I genuinely responded.
Not moments after he left I reached up and gave the wall
a tap. This time he forgone the formality of knocking and just walked in.
“Really?” he said in a condescending tone.
“I was just telling y’all goodnight,” I said with false
sincerity and a smile that could barely hold back my laughter. He could not
help but laugh and shake his head before saying, “Alright, goodnight, and no
more Morse code for tonight.” Then he walked away into Carson’s layer and went
to bed.
I do not know how long after wards, I would guess a day
maybe two, until our shared wall once again caused problems. I was
already annoyed with Zach for his flagrant disregard to my request that Carson
and he still keep their relationship on the down low. For some reason it
bothered me that only two sheets of sheetrock and a few 2x4s separated me from
them. That is why I had asked Zach to keep up the charade of secrecy. Also,
ever since the Faithful Night John had let Zach and Carson’s skeleton out of
the closet, Zach had been so far up Carson’s ass that it was not even funny—sure
you can go ahead and assume puns intended.
I had so many different things that were on my mind at
that time that I was not sleeping well being kept up all night by a myriad of thought.
I hate
Carson. Zach is about the only person
that I actually care about here, he is my best friend. Should I care about
Carson as he was now a part of Zach’s happiness or continue to hate his guts? What
about Hunter? He had hurt my friend and said things about him, I can’t have
anything to do with him. I just want to go home and curl up in my bed. Oh wait,
my parents moved away from home and I now I am emotionally homeless. Better
than Carson who is physically homeless, but still worst because Carson considers
Savannah in general and our apartment more specifically as his home. I never
have felt that way. Could I feel that way? I need to go see my Grandpa when I
go home—back—over break, I hope he is doing well with the chemo. It is a
miracle that they found the Cancer on his lungs when they were treating him for
prostate cancer. Oh yeah I don’t believe in God, so I can’t believe in miracles.
Just random chance. My parents moved off and abandoned me, I have no one and no
place, but at least I had Zach and Savannah. Now I wonder if Zach has ran off
with that…that… fag—don’t say that, I don’t really feel that way, I don’t
resent him because he is gay I resent him because who he is. And I don’t want
to be a hypocrite, what happened to all of the standing up for gay rights shit—got.
Goddamn it, I am so disappointed in you. It must be from all of the stress, you’re
not like that, I refuse to be like that.
I don’t care if they are gay. I lie, I care about it, it bothers me…my best
friend, with him. Why? Why is there
suffering in the world? Why did mum have to lose her job? It was either lose
her job or lose her mind, she was—still is—on the verge of a mental break-down.
I wish that I could go and see her, all I want to do is talk to her, tell her
about this, tell someone about this. Why did I have to lose my job over the
summer? Why did Big Blue—my minivan—have to die over the summer partially causing me to lose my job? I am
stuck here in Savannah. What if something happens with my family? My Grandpa is
sick, my mum has always been sick, what if something bad happens, what if
someone dies? You can’t do anything about it. Will I be able to make it to the
funeral or will I be stuck here in Savannah and have to miss it. Zach would
never let me miss something like that. My brother would come get me, someone
would come get me. I need a break, I want to go home and curl up in my bed, oh
wait your cousin is in my bed. It is still my room and your bed. You told her she could stay there, you were being
selfless, it is for the best. She needs to finish out school and get and
education. If anyone is going to make it from down there, it will be her. That
may be true, but I still want my room, I want my home, I want everything to go
back to normal. Wow, I am turning into my mum and losing it. Shut up! Don’t
think that. Don’t think! I really wish I could not think. One day I will not
have to go through this shit of an existence that is life anymore. One day I
will be dead. Finally something to look forward to in the future.Great now I’m
suicidal. Those anti-depresants suck balls. Why do I have to take them? So you
want kill yourself. What if you really just want to die? Then you should
probably take more. I don’t like them, they make me hollow inside. I know deep
inside that I don’t feel or think the way I
am. I don’t hate Molly, I know she is a good person and I secretly think
the world of her. Why then do you treat her like crap? Molly was a friend
of ours that I had really treated like crap for the past year. Sorry Molly. Am I ever going to win this battle over my
depression, or should I just throw in the flag and give into it. Give into the
desire to walk into eternal darkness. I am sick and tired of trying to care, I
just want to die. But who would listen to mum, if you did it you would destroy
her. Fuck! I can’t. Fuck! I got a paper due next week that I have yet to start
on. FUCK! Finals are coming up. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! What time is it? Four-thirty.
FUCK! I got class in the morning. FUCK! I need to roll over and go to sleep. There
is the only thing that is separating you from them…A few 2x4s and a couple of
sheets of sheetrock. I hope they are not fucking. Get out, get out, think of…
chairs. A wooden rocking chair, made out of oak. Like the one at Grandma’s
house that she used to rock me to sleep in. I wish she was here. I have not talked to her in so long. Not
really since the incident that caused us to grow apart. How could she. Even
though she took her side, I still wish she was here, someone who I could talk
to. I need someone to talk to. I can’t tell mum, she may tell my daddy. How did
I turn out so free spirited with such conservative parents, particularly the bigot
that is my father. Mum would not judge Zach, that much, but daddy sure as hell
would. “Your best friend is a faggot. You’re not a faggot?” No dad, I am not
gay. I know, if I was I would have to find somewhere else to live. What
happened to unconditional love? You would throw your own son out just because some
archaic outdated book tells you it is wrong. Love you too father. But still the
answer is no. I could talk to Zach, oh wait no I can’t. He is part of the
problem. I am so miserable, so alone. Shhhhh. Go to sleep. Finally, darkness, dreams,
death. If all that seems confusing and a random jumble, it is intentional,
that seriously was how everything felt then.
Zach had slowly been changing since that Fateful Night. He
had always been the kind of person that would put others needs before his own. This
caused him to be easily ran over, which I did often, but you never wanted to
take advantage of him too much. I never really took advantage of him, I have
always been one to not ask for help. But since Big Blue had broken down over
the summer, I depended on Zach, or more so his car since he hated driving, for
a ride to places, especially home and to get my AD/HD meds and antidepressants.
But Zach was changing on me, he was acting more and more like Carson. I had
noticed this earlier; but it really did not matter, it was only trivial changes
like posture, flamboyancy, and mannerisms. Now he was acting more and more like
Carson, and not in a good way. He was turning on me.
One night shortly after the first “wall incident” something
happened that made me most certainly realize that Zach was different. I was in
my room, sitting on my bed, I believe playing Farmville yet again. I got bored
watching my crops grow and without even thinking about it, I reached over and
tapped out a little tune on the wall. No sooner than I had started I realized
what I was doing and stopped, but it was too late. Zach was in Carson’s room
and of course, they heard it. Shortly after I ceased playing my tune, I heard a
knock on my door. It was Zach and he said through the door, “Hey buddy.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re knocking on the wall again.”
“Oh I was? My bad it must have been out of reflex.”
He opened the door before continuing, “Really? Reflex?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize what I was doing.” He responded
with a disbelieving look. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to. It’s not that big of a
deal it was just a light tap against the wall.”
“Whatever, just try not to have any more reflexes. Carson is trying to sleep.”
“What, did I wake him up?”
“No, he is trying to go to sleep.”
“So he is not even asleep?”
“No, it just bothers him.” Really, it just bothers him
is the best excuse he had to send out his attack dog? “If it bothers him
why didn’t he come ask me to stop?”
“He knows that you would tell him to fuck off and I am
about the only person you would listen to,” replied Zach.
“True. Alright I will try not to make any more Morse code
messages, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Alright, thanks,” said Zach as he turned to leave and
grasped the door knob, “Do you want me to close your door.”
“Leave it open,” I replied.
“Alright, night buddy,” he said as he walked away.
“Night.”
I thought everything was over as I sat there in the bed
for a few minutes, annoyed as ever at the duo. Carson was manipulating Zach to
try to control me. Zach was allowing
Carson to use our friendship to try to control me. I remember feeling also annoyed that Zach
would actually feel it his place to tell me to stop. It was not like it was his
room. As I thought about this, I turned and settled back into my bed and got
back to whatever I was doing on my computer. Not even ten seconds later I heard
feet stomping around and Carson’s door open and the stomping was coming in my
direction. I looked up and Zach was standing at my door.
“REALLY!” he said in a annoyed tone.
“What?” I thought I had posted something from Farmville
and John had gotten it.
“You’re hitting the wall again!”
“No I’m not!”
“You just did. I heard you hit the wall.”
I sat there trying to think of what the hell he was
talking about. I did not remember hitting the wall, at least not
intentionally.
“I don’t remember hitting the wall.”
“First out of reflex and now you don’t remember! What the
hell man! You said you were going to stop!”
“I did! I can’t help it if I accidently touch the goddamn
wall! It is my wall too; Carson can’t control the whole damn apartment. If he
has a fucking problem with me touching the wall then he needs to come and talk
to me his own damn self! It is not you room, therefore you HAVE NO RIGHT TO
COME INTO MY GODDAMN ROOM AND START BITCHING ME OUT FOR ACCIDENTLY TAPPING MY OWN FUCKING WALL!”
I was pissed by this point, and I do not even really know
why. Maybe
it was because I was being bitched at because of something I did not even
realized happened. Or maybe, it was because I felt like he was turning on me
and taking up for that piece of shit. I do not even remember what happened
next. It was one of them things that you know the eventual outcome, but you do
not remember how exactly things occurred. I am sure Zach reacted in some way,
but I do not recollect in what tone he spoke or what he said. I remember
becoming annoyed with him being in my room and me telling him to, “Get the fuck
out of my room!” He realized I was not kidding and I was pissed, if he realized
what exactly about I do not know. I do not even know what exactly I was pissed
about, I just remember being fucking pissed.
He stepped over the threshold of my room, back into the
hallway, and turned around and kept talking; “I’m not in your room anymore.” This
pissed me off even further; the whole now I am technically no longer in your
area so I can continue on argument has always pissed me off.
“Oh, how fucking juvenile,” I responded.
“You want to talk about juvenile; you’re the one knocking
on the walls at all hours of the night like a fucking three year old!”
“Well it wouldn’t bother you if you slept in your own
fucking room!” I said. Now we really start to get to the actual problem. I do
not even know if I said the next lines, I do not really remember. It seems
right and I vaguely remember later being accused of it. “Instead of with that
faggot,” or it may have been, “you fucking faggot.” Either way, the damage was
done.
Zach just stood there for a moment sort of like a deer in
the headlights. I knew that that was not really what I thought, but now Zach
did. We only had around a week left in the semester and both of us knew I was
depending on Zach to give me a ride home as we had already discussed. He
finally replied, “If that is how you feel then you can find your own damn ride
home.” Now I was the one standing there like a deer in the headlights. I had
never thought that Zach would go to such lengths, I was stunned to say the
least. He knew how much I wanted to go home. He more than anyone knew what all
I had been going through with my family moving and my Grandpa having Cancer. He knew how depressed I had been, and that he
was my only feasible option to get home. How could he do this? I was shocked,
annoyed, disgusted, angry, hurt, and panicked.
I have never been one to admit guilt, or suck up to
people. I
could not apologize, especially immediately after he told me I could not ride
home with him. I did the only thing that I could think of that would convey how
I really felt, but probably would not cause any more problems. I glared at him
for a moment and said, “Piss off!” in a tone that implies there was some
invisible line and Zach had just clearly crossed it. I then turned my head back
to whatever I was previously doing and acted as if no person named Zach ever
existed, which was surprisingly easy. My friend Zach would have never done
anything like that. Carson would in a heartbeat though, I mean he is a person
who told his homeless mother to get out of his apartment when it was the only
place she had to sleep other than her car. Zach was turning to the dark side.
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