Messy

Evan

Connor. That's a fun little story. I mean, not the story Jared and I are about to create. Tragic teen suicide. No, not that. A totally different story that I've never really told.

But I said it myself: no more lies.

So I'm going to tell Jared everything.

"Um. Yeah. For quite a while, we were dating." I say. "But it wasn't very serious, I don't think. It, um. We broke it off over a month ago. It wasn't a fight or anything. We just weren't right for each other, ya know? We sort of lost touch after he came back from rehab, but we never officially cut ties until a while ago."

"Oh." Jared doesn't sound surprised. "So he's gonna be cool if you try to be all friendly with him?"

"Should be. He's pretty chill about everything. Except for the letter. Because of what I wrote in the letter."

"I never asked, um. What did it say that set him off?" Jared asks.

"I said something about his sister, Zoe. Well, um. It was actually about you, but I changed 'Jared' to 'Zoe'. I don't know why, even. I'm not ashamed of who I am. I just... I don't know." I sigh in frustration, not sure what to say.

"It's okay." Jared says.

Okay.

Now for the harder part of the story. No lies, right?

"But, um. Back to the story because I'm not done and I want you to know everything. Um, Connor and I, um. There was a point, just before we broke up, where we didn't get along very well. And, um. We got into a fight a lot like the one you and I had. But I was on the receiving end. In your place. Actually, it was weirdly similar to the fight we had. Um. I asked him if he thought I was a good person. Because, I had been going through a lot and it made me feel bad about myself. And the conversation went on similarly to ours. He says yes, I ask if he's telling the truth. He says he would never lie about something so serious. And something made me ask him about his wrists. The cuts. I asked if he was being honest about those. He got sort of defensive and said that it was a touchy subject. I told him I understood. He, um. He asked if I really knew what it was like to try to get rid of myself. And I said no, because I didn't want to talk about the truth. And he just stared at me, angry, and said, 'Maybe you should try it sometime.'"

I take a deep breath and try to shake the feeling that this memory is giving me. Jared looks like he's about to beat Connor's lights out.

"And then this." I gesture to my broken arm. "I listened. Jared, I listened to him. I climbed the most amazing 40-foot oak tree. Up there, it felt like I could see the whole world and more. And it felt amazing for a minute. Then I looked down and saw how far off the ground I was. I remembered what he told me, and I remembered all of the disappointment I had ever seen in my mother's eyes. I remembered my dad, who replaced me with a shiny new family with a bunch of athletic kids that weren't afraid of people. I remembered how bad I hurt you. I thought of every single bad thing about me. And I thought that the tree could do the job. So I just loosened my grip a little, and shifted my footing." I take a shaky breath. In and out. "It didn't even knock me out. Just a sharp pain in my arm. That's it. I laid there, wondering if I had pulled it off. I didn't open my eyes. I thought that maybe if I wished hard enough, I would be dead. But that's not how it goes. I tried and failed. I knew I had survived the fall. And that was that. I just got up and walked to the entrance of the park. Got a ride to the hospital. I made up some story about how I saw a dog and lost sight of it, so I climbed the tree to try and find it again. People believed me. A week after that, Connor and I split up. He said he wasn't good for me, I said I probably wasn't good for him either. The end."

I'm surprised at how numb I feel. I thought that I would hurt at the memories. I thought that I would cry or get angry.

But none of that happened.

I feel blank. Empty.

Jared rests his hand on mine and the emptiness slowly retreats. He heals my soul.

"Are you okay?"

Three words.

A tiny, simple question.

A question that has a deeper meaning than anyone realizes.

A question that has a designated answer.

Always yes. They always say yes. I always say yes.

Not this time, though. This time, I tell the truth.

"Not really."

The true answer to the stupid question.

Are you okay?

Physically, mostly.

Mentally, no.

Am I getting better, though?

Yes. I'm getting better.

Now that I have Jared, everything will be okay.

"Can I help?"

"You're already helping."