The Young and Lost Club

I had given up trying to sleep at night anymore. Instead, I fully invested in a new hobby at night: Solitaire. I liked the game because it required just enough attention that I couldn’t really think of any of my other problems, but not enough that I couldn’t listen to music at the same time. I played game after game, enjoying the repetition and the puzzle solving, devouring new music and albums at the same time. Max had joked that this was just a way for me to become the music snob I always threatened to become, but really I just found it soothing.
Brian had even bought me an electronic version of the game when he found it at Wal-Mart, and I had it on my laptop, but I preferred to play with an actual deck of cards. I had one in particular that I always used, they were soft and warped from continuous shuffling and the corners were scuffed from being picked up too many times. I think what appealed to me most was the organization of the whole game. Taking seven random piles and ending up with four, divided and placed into their proper suits in the proper order. I may not have been able to organize my life, but I sure as hell could organize a deck of cards.
This is what I was doing, once again, at Ryan’s. The bed in the guest room he had given me looked inviting enough, complete with down comforters and one of those queen sized squishy mattresses made for astronauts or something, but I ignored it, not even bothering to turn down the covers. I opted to play instead, making vague promises to myself: “Five more games, then you can go to sleep…win one more time then you’ll sleep…just three more games…just one more…” until the next thing I knew, the sun would be creeping back up into the sky and I wouldn’t have slept a wink.
I hadn’t slept in about three days, three sleepless nights, and it was clearly starting to get to me. Time started to blur, hours flew by like minutes, but minutes slowed to an hour pace. “Just one more game, then sleep.” I promised to myself, shuffling the deck again, when suddenly-
“Clark?” Ryan pushed open my door, his eyes puffy, and his skinny legs sticking out from under the shorts he slept in.
“Oh no!” I said. “I didn’t wake you up did I? I was trying to keep quiet…”
“No, you didn’t wake me up,” he said frowning. “The dog needed out. Why aren’t you asleep?”
I glanced down at the cards in front of me and shrugged.
Ryan stared at me, (I felt his eyes linger on my puffy bloodshot eyes) clearly exasperated. “What the hell are you doing to yourself?” He snapped.
I knew where this conversation was going to end up, so I cut to the chase. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I said quietly.
“Don’t have to…don’t have to worry about you?” He demanded incredulously, and he actually looked angry at me. “How long has it been since you slept, Clark? How long has it been since you ate a decent meal without someone forcing you? How long are you going to blame yourself for what happened? He doesn’t even deserve you!”
My mouth simply hung open at his outburst. “Ry…” I murmured.
“I’m not going to watch one of my best friends self destruct.” He snapped, and then stormed out of the room, only to return a couple seconds later with his pillow under his arm. “Get up.”
“What?” My mind felt too numb to understand.
He sighed, grabbed my arm and yanked me up off the bed, quickly gathered up the cards and slammed them on the nightstand and wrenched down the covers. “Lay down.” He snapped and it seemed better to listen to him than argue. He climbed in on the other side and turned off the light, plunging to room into inky darkness. “It helps you sleep if someone’s with you, right? That’s what Taylor said.” He said, but this time he sounded much gentler.
“Yes,” I said, and it already was. I felt much calmer, more calm than I had felt in days.
He sighed. “Sleep, Clark.” He said. Eventually his breathing slowed as he fell back asleep.
It took me a little longer, but soon enough I was drifting off, into blissful, blissful sleep.

|||

The “Jon-fire”, as Ryan and Jon kept calling it, was going to be a small get together of some friends in Ryan’s backyard so we could say good-bye to Jon before he left for Chicago in the morning. Jon and I spent about two hours in the grocery store debating the pros and cons of various foods and their level of flammability. For instance, marshmallows were a given with a bonfire, but what about corndogs? I kept trying to point out that the middle would still be frozen by the time the outside was done, but Jon declared triumphantly, “Built in stick,” and threw them into the cart, bringing the discussion to an end.
I had met a couple of their friends at various moments during Brendon and mine’s relationship, and it was awkward to be re-introduced to them by Ryan, knowing that they all knew what had happened, and therefore, they were just going to pretend like nothing had happened. I wasn’t having very much fun mostly because I couldn’t contribute to the conversation very much, which was filled with various inside jokes and people I didn’t know. Nevertheless, they were all fairly entertaining, especially the more they drank, and Jon made sure to stick close with me, seeing as Ryan was busy playing host.
It was getting later, and colder, and Jon and I were sharing a blanket, when suddenly Ryan’s friend Michael, who was belligerently drunk, turned to me. “You and Brendon dated.” He stated, pointing at me.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “I know we did.” I said coolly. I looked over at Jon for help, but he wasn’t paying attention as he was talking and joking with two other people.
Michael pursed his lips, squinting at me. “Well, I don’t know what he’s thinking being with that other girl, you’re much prettier.”
I looked at him, feeling extremely cold suddenly.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding to himself. “Think her name’s Lydia? Or something? I don’t know, but…”
She had a name.
It wasn’t just Brendon and Some Girl. It was Brendon and Lydia.
That’s when I lost it.
For some reason, the confirmation that Brendon was in fact seeing someone else sent me over the edge. I could make myself believe that Alex had lied, that maybe I had misunderstood, but here it was, glaring at me in the face, point blank. Brendon had moved on. Brendon had moved on with Lydia. I had to accept that.
But I couldn’t.
Brendon was supposed to be mine, and I was supposed to be his, and we were supposed to be together. We had planned our lives out, he had said he loved me, and like an idiot, I let him get under my skin, I let myself believe that I had finally found the person I was supposed to be with.
For a girl who didn’t really believe in marriage, I would have given anything to walk down the aisle with him. And what’s worse, I thought he had felt the same way. The pretty little lies he had spilled about how he could see us engaged, married, together for our whole lives, about how I was the one, about how I completed him, I understood him, I, and I alone made him feel invincible.
And now I had lost him. For good.
I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see, everything felt like too much, and I didn’t understand how I was supposed to be expected to handle all this, how everyone expected me to be okay. Before I even grasped what I was doing, I excused myself and left the bonfire area, heading through the trees back to Ryan’s house. My eye caught the black water of the pool, and suddenly, I was running. I reached the edge, and jumped in, not even bothering to take off any clothing, not even my shoes. I sank to the bottom, and I never felt more trapped in my life. I was locked inside my head, and I couldn’t find a way out. That’s when I started screaming. Underwater, you couldn’t hear anything, and the scream was only bubbles, but it felt good to scream under there, in the inky black water, until I had no more air, and my throat felt raw, and my chest felt like it was going to burst from the pressure.
I numbly felt something clamp on my wrist, and I willingly pushed myself towards the surface, and when my head broke through, I heard an odd noise like someone was sobbing, or being throttled. “Shh,” someone was wrapping their arms around me and pulling me towards the shallow end. “Clark, breathe, please?”
Oh. The noise was from me. All I could think was how embarrassing the situation was and how I wished no one had seen me like this. Everything seemed distorted, and shaking and too bright, and too much.
“Clark, breathe, I’m serious. Breathe for me, please?” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even figure out how to get out of my own head, let alone how to control it.
“What the fuck happened?” That was Jon, from the edge of the pool, a note of panic in his voice. God I was an idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Is she okay?”
Nope. No, I really wasn’t. Didn’t he understand the walls were closing in, that nothing mattered anymore? That I hated myself so much? Why couldn’t he understand that?
Ryan’s hands were suddenly pushing the hair out of my face and holding it firmly, and I realized I was trembling horribly, only fueling the hatred for myself. “I think she’s having a panic attack?” He said to Jon, but still looking at me. “Clark?” He murmured, still smoothing wet strands out of my face. He was dripping wet too, obviously having dove into the pool as well.
And then I found I could talk. “No, no, no, no, no, I can’t, no…” And I also found that now that I had started, I couldn’t stop: nonsensical words were just pouring out of my mouth. “He…he…he…no, no, no!”
“Clark, what happened? Tell me, its okay.”
But I shook my head, still furiously babbling. Jesus Christ, someone please make it all stop, make it all alright, put everything back where it belonged.
“Get her out of the water, it’s freezing,” Jon said suddenly. “She’ll go into shock.”
“She pretty much is,” Ryan snapped; worry lacing its way into his voice.
“Here,” Jon said, holding out his hand, and grabbed me around the waist, Ryan on the other side, and they set me in a chair. The air was freezing and I gasped at it, but it knocked some sort of sense into me. “I’ll get towels.”
As Jon left, Ryan kneeled in front of me, brushing his wet hair of his eyes. I had finally shut up, but I was still shaking. “Clark?” He said softly. “What happened?”
I shook my head. “I’m so sorry, I really am, I’m so, so sorry.” I said, suddenly crying again.
“It’s fine.” He said soothingly, rubbing his hands on my arms to try and warm them up.
“No, it’s not Ryan, it’s not fair. Not to you, not to Jon. I shouldn’t put you in this position. I need to take care of myself, I need to be stronger…I’m sorry.”
Ryan’s fingers suddenly sunk into my arms painfully. “Don’t give me that. I want to help, Clark, you know that.”
Jon suddenly returned with towels, and he wrapped one around me in a very motherly fashion, and then handed one to Ryan as well.
“It’s not fair, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your party. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t make me smack you,” Jon said, trying to make a joke.
I shook my head. “It’s true, it’s okay. I know it’s my fault. I just can’t do this right now, and I’m really sorry, I can’t do this.”
“What can’t you do?” Ryan said gently.
I started crying again. “Brendon.” I managed to say. “I can’t…I can’t do it. He’s gone, he’s left me behind, he left just like everyone else. Again and again, I’m not enough, he promised though, he promised!” I was crying to hard again to make any sort of sense, and the pity party I was throwing was making me physically sick, and all I wanted was for everything to stop. Just stop.
“Come on,” Ryan said softly, helping me out of the chair and into the house, and led me into the guest bedroom. He handed me some clothes out of my suitcase, and numbly, I pulled off my shirt and started undoing my jeans.
“Umm, we…we could leave,” Ryan stuttered, and I looked up in surprise. I had never ever heard Ryan sound nervous like that, nor had I ever seen him blush. Jon just laughed and shielded Ryan’s eyes with his hand. I yanked the t-shirt he had handed me over my head.
“Sorry,” I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself tightly, flushing violently.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jon said. “That’s just the most action Ryan’s gotten in about two months.”
“Shut up,” Ryan mumbled.
“Sorry,” I said again.
“If you keep apologizing I’m going to punch you in the face,” Jon said casually. “I’m going to go say bye to everyone, I’ll be right back.”
“No!” I cried. “Jon, seriously, it’s your last night, go spend time with your friends. I’m fine…I’ll be fine, okay, please just go and have fun.”
“I’ll be right-“
“I’m serious,” I said glaring at him. But Jon still glanced at Ryan for approval, who gave a slight nod, and so he gave me a swift kiss on the top of my head and left.
It was slightly awkward as Ryan and I stood there in my room, Ryan still dripping wet. “You should change,” I said finally.
He nodded but didn’t move. “Clark?” He said suddenly, sounding hesitant. “Promise me you weren’t trying to kill yourself. In the pool.”
“Oh God, no!” I said. “No, Ryan! I just wasn’t thinking, I swear! It just seemed like a good idea. And besides,” I took a deep breath. “Brendon is not worth killing myself over, give me some credit.”
He gave me a small smile. “Okay, I just…you really scared me Clark.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “Do you want to talk about it now or later?”
“Later,” I mumbled. “I…I can’t think right now, I just can’t.”
“Ok,” he said. “I’ll be right back okay? And then we can go to sleep.”
I couldn’t help it. He was so sweet, so selfless, so everything I needed right now without me ever having to ask for it, that I gave him a huge hug, trying to express any sort of percentage of gratitude I felt towards him. “Thank you so much,” I whispered.
I could feel him smile slightly into my shoulder, before quietly disengaging himself from me and leaving to change.