Please, Won't You Push Me for the Last Time

~Kellin~

I wake up with the biggest feeling of dread I have ever felt, and start getting ready to face the day where my parents will surely take me to the doctor. That’s how it works, if anything is out of the ordinary, you take your kid to the doctor, and they will make sure everything is okay and fix it if it’s not. I sigh. I have made it so long without anybody noticing that I’ve been flushing the cures I’ve already been assigned, and now that is probably gonna come out too. I guess it won’t be all bad after I’m fixed, I mean, being messed up isn’t always fun. I place a lot of importance on little things, and I stress a lot and fidget. I’m not very good with people. And I can’t keep a steady emotion because I am affected by everything. I guess things will be easier once all that is gone, maybe I will even have some friends.

Sure enough, as I reach the bottom of the stairs both of my parents are sitting there waiting at the table, and I make a last ditch attempt to think of a way to explain my behavior away, but nothing comes to me. The only explanation is that I am messed up. I walk over to the table and to my surprise both my parents are smiling widely, and that’s not entirely normal for a doctor day, even a scheduled one.

“Kellin,” my mom smiles at me and gestures for me to sit, “we know what’s been going on with you.” I look at her questioningly, wondering why this was so cheerful. “You’ve been dating someone haven’t you?” my mother asks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh my God why didn’t I think of that? It explains everything, me rushing out of the house, not keeping many close friends, even being distracted and fidgety, those are all considered perfectly healthy if you’ve found someone to be with. Stupid stupid stupid.

“Yes, I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I murmer, wondering how I got so lucky. I couldn’t think of a good lie and she basically came up with one for me.

“Well who is she?” questions my mother, “we want to meet her.”

Shit. Now what do I do? I don’t have any friends, and even if I did I doubt I could ask them to keep up a lie like this with me. Unless… my mind flashes to the boy I met last night, the one who followed me.

“Not a she,” I say nervously, I’m still not sure how I’m gonna make this work, but I’m suddenly filled with hope again and I’m not going to give that up yet. “H-his name is Vic.” My mother’s expression doesn’t change and she tells me to invite him to dinner tomorrow. At first I’m a little surprised they didn’t react to the fact that it was a guy, but I guess that’s just from reading so many of the old journals I found. They used to treat people pretty bad for being gay, and it took forever, but the American Psychological Association finally convinced everybody it was natural and healthy and shouldn’t be fixed.

I tell my parents I’m going to go see Vic and head out, without the slightest clue where to find this boy, so I just start walking over to where I ran into him yesterday. To my surprise, he is out on the sidewalk on the path where we met, looking around confused. His eyes light up when he sees me and he practically runs over to me.

“Kellin,” he says seriously, “I was really hoping I would see you again… I have to talk to you. I want to know more about… about yesterday…”

“Vic I need your help with something.” I brush off his announcement and decide it’s best to just be blunt. He looks at me curiously and I start leading him back to the tunnels he followed me to yesterday. I notice he’s wearing the jeans I gave him. I guess he must have expected to come back, or maybe he just likes them. They look good on him. I think involuntarily. Now is not the time, or maybe it is. I don’t know. Once we get into the tunnel I start explaining while we crawl, not really wanting to see his reaction because he is my only hope and I know anyone in their right mind would say no.

~Vic~

“I know this is going to sound crazy and awkward and believe me I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t desperate but, well, you know I was expecting that my parents will take me to the doctor and they’d fix me and I wouldn’t wanna come here or sing for real anymore and I would change and I don’t want that I really don’t. But my parents didn’t think I was acting the way I’ve been acting because I’m sick and don’t take my cures but they thought it was because I was seeing someone and I…” Kellin’s voice trails off as we reached the small room, he seemed to have lost his resolve to ask whatever it was he needed my help with.

“Hold on,” I say. I need a second to sort through what he just told me. “But, you aren’t seeing someone, and uhm, you don’t take your cures? People do that?” I questioned, still not understanding. We have the ability to perfect humanity. Who wouldn’t want to be perfectly fine, all the time?

“Okay,” he sighs and sits down on the little ledge under the ladder in here. “I’m going to explain this to you,” he says and looks me right in the eyes as if he’s trying to make me see what he’s thinking. His eyes are actually really captivating, I think and then demand myself to focus. He starts pushing around some of the bound papers, “these are called journals, back before the cures, a lot of people would write in them, to help sort out what was going on in their head, but I mean you can learn a lot from them about what things used to be like.” he seemed to find the one he was looking for and came back over next to me. He turns to the first page and hands it to me. The writing is hand-written, but printed very neatly so I can read it easily:

"They say that we are extremists, that of course, resisting is stupid. They are telling us that we should be grateful for the cures, and considerate of people who really need them, but I still don’t understand. I saw a news story today about a 3 year old who was completely cured of ADHD, and it really broke my heart because he was super outgoing and had a lot of creativity but now he just sits in class and does his work and I can’t even understand how that can be right…"

“This is from the beginning of the cures,” I marvel aloud, “but I don’t understand…”

“What’s wrong with it?” Kellin finishes for me and then continues, “what’s wrong is that the kid she saw on the news is just a child, and he is already doing what other people want, rather than what he wants. And everyone is happy about it. Everyone wants to be brainwashed.” And suddenly I am starting to understand. It’s something I never considered before, but before everyone worked in unison, they must have thought as individuals. They taught us in school about how everyone was selfish and fighting all the time, but there must have been advantages too. Like if you didn’t pay attention in school there’s other things you could pay attention to. Okay, I can see the advantage of that.

“But I still don’t see why you’re so bothered by it, you don’t live back then you live now.” I say to Kellin and he looks discouraged, but goes on.

“Vic, you remember the songs you heard me singing yesterday?”

“Yeah it was… beautiful… I was looking for you today because I wanted to hear more…”

“But you live now. Not when there was music like that. You live now so why should it concern you?” I’m starting to put this together. These things exist only in the past because we are cured, and without pain and illness, we can’t have them. And Kellin and the girl who wrote that journal are right, there’s nothing good about that.

“Okay, I think I understand. What do you need my help with?” I ask cautiously.

“I let my parents think I’m seeing someone, so they wouldn’t think I’m sick and try to fix me. I’m not seeing someone. I have no friends… you’re the only person I could ask to…”

“To pretend to be seeing you.” I finish for him. We sit awkwardly for a minute while I consider this. I want to help this boy, and it’s not like I’m seeing anyone, so there’s nothing it could really hurt. I’m not used to lying though. I look over at Kellin, who is watching me with a hopeful look and fidgeting with his hair, which is cute, and I don’t have to consider anymore because I already know I’m going to agree.

“One condition,” I say, “sing again.”