Sequel: Hold Me Down ›
Autumn's Monologue.
You Told Me I Was Not Alone.
”Do you know why you’re here Mikey?”
I lazily nodded my head; I didn’t get why she cared so much about what happened to me, it’s not like she’d hold my hand once I left—if I left this place.
“So in your own words tell me why you’re here.”
I folded my arms across my chest—childish yes, I didn’t want to talk to her about my feelings. She just looked at me as I stared hard at her; she knew I wasn’t going to talk willingly.
“Well then, I see we’re going to have a fun time with you. This isn’t just a rehab center; it covers much more than substance abuse. Your mother wrote in her letter that you’ve changed; she thought you’d have gone back to yourself after you and your current boyfriend got together. She felt wrong of course and noticed your continuing downward spiral of actions.”
I just looked at her—this was wasting my time—not that I had anything else to do but still. I knew I wasn’t the same, I knew that my mother knew what I was up to—I didn’t care.
“She also informed me that you seemed to have changed at the beginning of your senior in high school—a person she said?”
I just nodded; I wasn’t going to talk to her. I didn’t want to and we’ve been at this for two weeks now. She’d tell me why I’m here—I met with her three times a week—and I’d just sit there, looking dumbly at her.
“She said this friend of yours—his name is Edward; once you met him you began to exhibit certain behaviors, ones that you hadn’t before.”
I laughed out right at that. Of course my behavior had changed—did my mother tell you that my best friend and brother were gone and the one guy I was utterly in love with ignored my existence? She looked taken back that I had laughed.
“Care to explain what you find funny?”
I just shook my head, a smile remaining on my lips. Now I had something to occupy my thoughts while she tried to get me to express my feelings.
=-=-=-=
”We’re going to try something different today, I hope you don’t mind.”
I just shrugged as I followed her out into the courtyard; they had just cut the grass, I liked the smell of freshly cut grass.
“I’ve seen your behavior before and frankly—“
Frankly—Frank; I haven’t gone a day without thinking about him. I regret not saying goodbye to him, holding him one last time, kissing him one last time. He hasn’t contacted me since the day he dropped me off—my mother’s been the only one.
“You’re not even listening! I’ve met some difficult people before but you Michael Way are very difficult. You only utter please, thank you, you’re welcome, I’m sorry, and excuse me—you don’t talk to anyone. Don’t you realize that’s unhealthy?”
I smirked to myself—I finally got her to crack.
“Oh no you don’t young man we’re done playing by your game. You’re here to get help and that’s what I’m going to do. If you haven’t noticed I’ve been with you everyday, I’ve slacked off on some of my better patients, ones that can go home in the next upcoming weeks.”
She knew she struck a nerve. Home—a place to feel safe, to feel comforted, to feel needed; the only place I ever felt at home was in Frank’s arms. As ridiculous as that sounds it’s the truth. I’d been here exactly a month today and yet no word from him.
“I don’t have a home.”
She looked at me funny.
“Why’s that?”
“The only place I feel like home…they don’t seem to care about me anymore.”
Her eyes lit up at the defeat that was apparent in my own.
That was the day I told her everything—Frank, Bert, Ray, Gerard, my parents, school—everything. I stood glancing around the room at the apprehensive faces staring back at me—the only person to have a smile was my mother.
“What are you doing here?”
I didn’t mean for it to come out so coldly, so harsh—but it did. Cathy placed a hand on my shoulder, her I’m-just-doing-my-job smile plastered on her face and that tone she uses to newcomers and visitors came to life.
“Welcome! Mikey, I thought you’d like to see your friends and family; let them see how far you’ve come.”
Meaning I still had some—if not long—way to go. I stared at the ground, wishing now more than ever that I hadn’t left my hoodie in my room. I kept my arms at my sides, fear of moving them would show them what I had done to myself—again.
I felt myself engulfed in a hug—my mother. I just stood there; I had just read her letters the other day. She kissed my cheek, my forehead and hugged me once again.
“Look at you, you look healthy, still stick thin, but you look good. Oh, my baby...”
She pulled me to her once again—did they even tell her I tried to kill myself? I glanced around again at the people inside; Ray and Gerard stood together, neither sure of what to do or say to me. My father just stood back, taking the sight of me in and I noticed Frank, standing shyly behind everyone else.
His face directed towards the ground, moving invisible dirt with the toe of his shoe. Seven months changes a person—they had all changed. Ray’s hair was more unruly, Gee’s was still black, just shorter, shaggier, ma had a few more wrinkles—thanks to me I’m sure. My dad had a few gray hairs—again thanks to me I’m sure.
Frank’s appearance took my breath away—I didn’t let anyone see it of course—he was breathtaking. He’d adorned his body with permanent ink, peircings were apparent in his nose and lip and his hair—he’d done something to it. He had a fringe, but the rest was under a beanie.
“Erm...hi...everyone…”
I lazily nodded my head; I didn’t get why she cared so much about what happened to me, it’s not like she’d hold my hand once I left—if I left this place.
“So in your own words tell me why you’re here.”
I folded my arms across my chest—childish yes, I didn’t want to talk to her about my feelings. She just looked at me as I stared hard at her; she knew I wasn’t going to talk willingly.
“Well then, I see we’re going to have a fun time with you. This isn’t just a rehab center; it covers much more than substance abuse. Your mother wrote in her letter that you’ve changed; she thought you’d have gone back to yourself after you and your current boyfriend got together. She felt wrong of course and noticed your continuing downward spiral of actions.”
I just looked at her—this was wasting my time—not that I had anything else to do but still. I knew I wasn’t the same, I knew that my mother knew what I was up to—I didn’t care.
“She also informed me that you seemed to have changed at the beginning of your senior in high school—a person she said?”
I just nodded; I wasn’t going to talk to her. I didn’t want to and we’ve been at this for two weeks now. She’d tell me why I’m here—I met with her three times a week—and I’d just sit there, looking dumbly at her.
“She said this friend of yours—his name is Edward; once you met him you began to exhibit certain behaviors, ones that you hadn’t before.”
I laughed out right at that. Of course my behavior had changed—did my mother tell you that my best friend and brother were gone and the one guy I was utterly in love with ignored my existence? She looked taken back that I had laughed.
“Care to explain what you find funny?”
I just shook my head, a smile remaining on my lips. Now I had something to occupy my thoughts while she tried to get me to express my feelings.
=-=-=-=
”We’re going to try something different today, I hope you don’t mind.”
I just shrugged as I followed her out into the courtyard; they had just cut the grass, I liked the smell of freshly cut grass.
“I’ve seen your behavior before and frankly—“
Frankly—Frank; I haven’t gone a day without thinking about him. I regret not saying goodbye to him, holding him one last time, kissing him one last time. He hasn’t contacted me since the day he dropped me off—my mother’s been the only one.
“You’re not even listening! I’ve met some difficult people before but you Michael Way are very difficult. You only utter please, thank you, you’re welcome, I’m sorry, and excuse me—you don’t talk to anyone. Don’t you realize that’s unhealthy?”
I smirked to myself—I finally got her to crack.
“Oh no you don’t young man we’re done playing by your game. You’re here to get help and that’s what I’m going to do. If you haven’t noticed I’ve been with you everyday, I’ve slacked off on some of my better patients, ones that can go home in the next upcoming weeks.”
She knew she struck a nerve. Home—a place to feel safe, to feel comforted, to feel needed; the only place I ever felt at home was in Frank’s arms. As ridiculous as that sounds it’s the truth. I’d been here exactly a month today and yet no word from him.
“I don’t have a home.”
She looked at me funny.
“Why’s that?”
“The only place I feel like home…they don’t seem to care about me anymore.”
Her eyes lit up at the defeat that was apparent in my own.
That was the day I told her everything—Frank, Bert, Ray, Gerard, my parents, school—everything. I stood glancing around the room at the apprehensive faces staring back at me—the only person to have a smile was my mother.
“What are you doing here?”
I didn’t mean for it to come out so coldly, so harsh—but it did. Cathy placed a hand on my shoulder, her I’m-just-doing-my-job smile plastered on her face and that tone she uses to newcomers and visitors came to life.
“Welcome! Mikey, I thought you’d like to see your friends and family; let them see how far you’ve come.”
Meaning I still had some—if not long—way to go. I stared at the ground, wishing now more than ever that I hadn’t left my hoodie in my room. I kept my arms at my sides, fear of moving them would show them what I had done to myself—again.
I felt myself engulfed in a hug—my mother. I just stood there; I had just read her letters the other day. She kissed my cheek, my forehead and hugged me once again.
“Look at you, you look healthy, still stick thin, but you look good. Oh, my baby...”
She pulled me to her once again—did they even tell her I tried to kill myself? I glanced around again at the people inside; Ray and Gerard stood together, neither sure of what to do or say to me. My father just stood back, taking the sight of me in and I noticed Frank, standing shyly behind everyone else.
His face directed towards the ground, moving invisible dirt with the toe of his shoe. Seven months changes a person—they had all changed. Ray’s hair was more unruly, Gee’s was still black, just shorter, shaggier, ma had a few more wrinkles—thanks to me I’m sure. My dad had a few gray hairs—again thanks to me I’m sure.
Frank’s appearance took my breath away—I didn’t let anyone see it of course—he was breathtaking. He’d adorned his body with permanent ink, peircings were apparent in his nose and lip and his hair—he’d done something to it. He had a fringe, but the rest was under a beanie.
“Erm...hi...everyone…”