Leave This Blue Neighborhood

It has been two years I think? Yeah, that sounds right. Two years since I’ve last seen John. And now I’m staring right at him and the circumstances are very good at all.

He is standing there dressed in his Sunday’s best next to his girlfriend and someone who I think if my memory serves me correctly, is his cousin. They’re all just standing there looking solemnly at the grave in front of them with a tombstone that reads “John Cornelius O’Callaghan II 1964-2017.”

I didn’t want to come to this funeral. I’ve managed to avoid John for so long and I was so proud of it. But when my mom informed me about John’s dad passing I didn’t know how to feel. Either way, though she didn’t really give me a choice on how to feel. The O’Callaghans had been family friends of ours since before I was born. So my parents let me know that it was obligatory that I come to this funeral.

I saw John shed a tear as the priest gave a speech. He was going on about death and moving onto the afterlife and some more fluff to make his loved ones feel better. John and his father didn’t even go to church, why was this guy here making a speech about a man he never even knew?

Does he know that this man resting in the coffin was a severe alcoholic? An abusive father? A raging homophobe? No. He probably didn’t.

But eventually the service was over and I could finally go home. I was headed towards my car through the graveyard and then there was a tap on my shoulder.

I stopped then turned around to see John standing there, tears rolling down his face constantly. He looked terrible and I hated. He broke my heart in such a tragic way but that didn’t mean I liked to see him in this kind of pain.

“I-I… I wanted to apologize.” He stutters out quickly. I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“I know I hurt you when I broke up with you those two years ago, b-but I just didn’t know a way around it.” He starts sobbing and I don’t know what to do besides let him continue. “When… when he caught us in my room that day he was furious after you left. He couldn’t stand the fact that I could ever be gay… that night he beat me and told me if he ever saw you around me again he would beat you too. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t want him to hurt you. I thought if I just told you I didn’t want to be with you, it would be easy for you to move on. I even got a girlfriend thinking that if I started dating Jenny that it would help both of us move on. I wanted you to be mad at me for dating her, I wanted you to hate me. God, I know I hated me after that. I have never spent a single second with her not wishing I could’ve been with you.”

He was still crying so I did the only thing I ever did when he was crying. I reached out for him and brought him tight to my chest.

“But now… now he’s gone. He’s gone, I’ve lost him. And I lost you a long time ago. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“John, you could never lose me. I promise I will always be here for you. I love you and I will always have a place for you in my heart.”

“Wait.” He looked at me. “You still love me? Ever after all these years? Even after what I did?”
I paused for a second to think about the question before I answered. “Yeah. I do. I still love you very much.”

“Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?”

I didn’t answer him because I didn’t want to wait another second before I could touch his lips.
As soon as his lips touched him I felt all of the tension he had in him leave his body. He wrapped his arms around my body to pull me closer than I already was. After two long years I finally had him back, he was mine again. Well, I thought he was.

We heard a cough from a few feet away and John jumped back away from me.

We looked at the source of the noise and saw his John’s girlfriend standing there. Emotion drained from John’s face and he didn’t know what to do

“John, what the fuck is this?” This was the first time I had ever heard her speak.

“Jen, can we talk about this. Like can we go somewhere and talk about it?”

“Are you fucking gay? Are you actually cheating on me with some other fag?”

John flinched after that word left her mouth. He always hated that word and I can’t believe that he would ever date someone that would use it, even if their relationship wasn’t the most real.

“I just need to talk to you about this, there’s a lot you don’t know about an-“

“Yeah, clearly.” She crossed her arms and looked between us. “I’m dating a fucking faggot apparently. Can’t even control himself at his own father’s funeral. I didn’t know your dad that well but I knew him enough to be able to tell that he would hate you if he knew what you were. He would be disgusted and frankly, I feel pretty disgusted myself. I wonder what your mom would think right now. Because I’m sure her and your father would think the same about this”

John looked wounded by the words she was spitting at him. He never handled people bringing up his mother very well, especially if they thought she would be disappointed in him. His father used that to guilt him all the time.

“I um… I need to go.” He says quietly, almost too quietly for me and his (ex?)girlfriend to hear.

I reach out to touch his arm but he pulls away. “I said I need to go.” He says again but much more clearly and louder this time. He walks away briskly from the scene, walking past me.

After he's gone Jenny (I think that’s what he said her name was) looks right at me and says “This is your fault you know. You corrupted him.” I just roll my eyes and go home. Maybe I can try to talk to John again.

-----

That happened a week ago. It amazing to think it’s only been a week. One whole week and I’m already at another funeral. Now this tombstone reading “Johnathan Cornelius O’Callaghan 1997-2017.”

After the events of last week ended when John got home he decided to take his own life.
He left a very long note with my name on it. It took me a while to get through it. I had to keep pausing, it was too hard for me to read the last words that would ever come from John’s beautiful mind.

In the note I think he apologized at least a dozen times for killing himself, knowing I would be the one affected the most by his actions. In the note, he also gave a long list of reasons about why he did what he did. He had been struggling with his battle with depression for a long time, was now an orphan at the age of 20, he felt that everyone in his life (besides me) was just so against his sexuality. He just felt like it would’ve been more effort than it was worth to keep living.

So now I’m here at another funeral, not crying because I ran out of tears a few days ago. I look over to my right and see Jen crying a mess. Unbelievable. I doubt she really loved him and I know he didn’t love her.

He loved me though. And I loved him. I always will.