Alone at Six

They know Cole here. When Dashiell had started to give her information, most of which a normal friend wouldn't know, the women immediately looked up in recognition. They'd got her her usual doctor and whisked her away. I hoped that the urgency was just a default setting instead of what was necessary.

The waiting area was almost empty and Trina had gone to find the others to let them know where I was at. We hadn't told her what had happened, but once we'd told he we were going to the hospital she stopped asking questions. Normally I'd feel guilty or scared or worried. But right now I just felt so much all I could feel was the dire urge to vomit. So I did. Twice.

Coming back to the waiting area, I spotted Dashiell slumped in one of the chairs. He really was beautiful. Brown hair fell in a flood of waves and curls over his skinny body, brown eyes darting everywhere in a deadly sort of way. He almost seemed jumpy, but he looked the epitome of calm. Those looks of course deceived me and made me think it was safe to sit next to him.

His sudden lazy facade shed, he looked at me with the same murderous intent etched into his pupils. "Cole's composed of ninety nine percent pills, lyrics, paragraphs, quotes, and words others have said. She absorbs everything and regurgitates it in her own originally replicated way. The other one percent is what's really important. Granted, half of that one percent is pure uneasiness, disruption, disturbed patches, and contagious insanity. But that other half depends on this fucked up part."

For a moment, I just looked at him. I didn't understand a word that'd just come out of him mouth, and for some reason I didn't care. All these cryptically depressing explanations were fraying me thin and I didn't want to hear them anymore. I wanted something clear, something easy to understand. But I also wanted Cole and fro her to be happy. It was all too obvious that I couldn't have both.

"I'm guessing you know all hundred percent?"

As if possible, he glared harder. "What, you think do?"

"Well, with the amount of time I've spent with her and our multiple breakthroughs, I'd say somewhat." As soon as the words left my mouth I realized they shouldn't have.

"You think you know Cole? I sat in a waiting room for an hour with my sister as her mother gave birth. My sister baby sat us until I turned thirteen and Cole was eleven and they trusted us alone. Our families moved to Maryland together when we were six and found houses in the same neighborhoodspecifically so we could go to the same school. She stayed at my house for two weeks after her mother went apeshit and before she moved in with her father. I went to therapy with her for two year, visited her mother with her every time she felt she could, went to her fathers funeral with her when her sister was too busy to even show up. I drive two fucking hours at least twice a month so I can see her. I know everything there is to know about her except for what's under her clothes. So shut the fuck up."

"Sounds like you more than know her," I sneered agenst my better judgment. "What do they call it? Unrequited love?"

He didn't hesitate. "Yeah, they do. And yeah, I'm stuck with it."

That regained me control of my mouth. Suddenly, I pitied the boy and felt sorry for being the jackass I was for a few minutes. But I still had to ask. "By love, do you mean-"

"I mean that I failed a grade so I could start middle school with her. I walked three hours to school everyday morning because she couldn't take what they were doing to her on the buss anymore. I proposed to her with a fruit loop when we were three. I love her. And just because she gained her drinking tendencies and a shit load of pills doesn't change that. If any thing, it only made me love her more."

"I...I'm not sure I completely understand that."

"Eventually she just lost hope and gave up on everything, like the friends who can't keep their word and always having someone to go with to things, like your concert for instance. She stop calling people back because she knew they didn't really care if she did or not, they only called her by habit. Then they stopped calling her altogether and stopped bothering to even look at her. She told me about how absolutely every fucking bone in your body began to ache, every second, every second of every fucking day. Every time I called, she'd talk like I wasn't there, like it'd just gotten to her so much that she assumed no one was listening anymore, or maybe she just didn't care who heard. It got worse when her sister moved away to go to college back in France. She finaly realized that the people she couldn't live without could live without her. Eventually, when I asked her what was wrong, she started saying 'I'm fine. I'm used to being alone so I'm glad to talk to you.' And I know it's wrong to say, but I loved the fact that I was the only one she had to turn to. I loved the fact that she had no choice but to lean on me, to tell me what was wrong, to trust me. The fact that she did only made me love her more."

Again, I was struck into silence. Surprise at his bluntnes, honesty, willingness to vomit his heart out on the floor in front of him. But mostely, I was surprised I could somewhat understand. It was the same as me feeling unneeded when I found out Cole wasn't completely alone. And, for a moment, I was ashamed of the both of us for being such selfish, sadistic bastards.

"The only thing that made her happy since her dad died has been dangerously loud music." His voice droned out, like he'd lost the same will to live Cole apparently had. "She liked music before the fact, but afterwords she became addicted. Well, she already was addicted, but it turned deadly. She started actually making her ears bleed and coming to the hospital for check ups. I didn't try too hard to stop her once I found out, but only because she'd almost smile before she showed any signs of anything being wrong."

"Dashiell, that was a pretty shitty thing to do." I notified him. "She could lose her hearing like that."

"I know." His voice made me think that maybe I'd finally got one up on him, but that didn't make me feel any better. "She got hearing aids a while back, but then she just started turning those all the way up so her stepmom took them."

There was more silence. Not that suggested we were judging each other for what we did or didn't do, we weren't placing blame. We just needed silence. And, luckily, in a hospital that's what you got.

"When you came along, I automatically hated you." He broke the silence with a crack, a shattering crack.

"What?"

"When you came around, she actually sounded happy when I called. Whenever the conversation turned to Andrew Beirsack, I could almost see her smile in my head. Of course the only genuinely smiling Cole I can even conjure up was when she was little, but I swear I could see it through the telephone lines. I haven't been able to make her smile in awhile." Sighing, he looked down at his hands and finally back to me. For the first time, all anger was gone from his eyes, overtaken by misery. "I think that maybe I'm just too great a reminder. I've been with her through everything. She's great at forgetting things, that's her specialty, but I'm just too much to forget."

He didn't wait for me to say anything. Instead, he got up and went to talk to the women at the desk. I tried not to think about what he'd said much, but that was hard considering the depth of it. He'd blurted out a lot in the time we've sat there, and it was obvious he was a man of many words. But I haden't exactly expected any of it, nor had it even begun to seep in.

Was it odd that I feel bad for him? I'd meet him only a few hours ago and so far all he's done is give me a few bruises, rip my jacket, and re-open the cut in my lip. Why should I feel bad for such a hostile person, who evidently blames me for today's event. Not that I can say his blame was falsely placed, but still. Maybe it was because I could sympathies with him a little bit. I definitely didn't have anything with Cole that ran as deep as he did, but I think my feelings were on a fast track to his level, with reason or not. Or maybe it was his eyes.

I blame it on the eyes.

As the thought went, Dashiell looked my way and jerked his head in a signal for me to follow. I only hesitated a second, but made up for the lost time ten fold when the thoughts of Cole passed over.