Michael Ford - Suicide Notes

“See,” I told Martha. “It’s a snow angel. Do you want to make one?”

She nodded and threw herself into the snow. She kicked her arms and legs crazily, then got up. Her angel was a little lopsided, like it had fallen out of Heaven or something, but it looked really cool. Martha laughed when she saw it. I think it was the first time I’d ever heard her laugh. It sounded like Christmas.

“Let’s make some more,” I told Martha.

We lay in the snow next to each other and made our angels. I was going to get up, but Martha took my hand and held it. She was wearing these red mittens they’d found for her, and I could feel her fingers gripping mine through my gloves. We just stayed like that, looking up at the sky while the snow came down. It kept falling, and for a little while it felt like we were flying through space and the snowflakes were stars rushing all around us.

That made me think about the astronauts again, about how the air on Earth smells so bad to them. I took a deep breath and filled my chest with the cold air. It didn’t stink. It smelled great for a change.

Martha and I finally got up and helped the others finish the snowman. We’d brought a carrot for his nose, and Nurse McCutcheon had gotten us two cookies to use for his eyes. Juliet took off the purple scarf she’d found in the clothes closet and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck.

“What are we going to name him?” Sadie asked when he was done.

“How about Frosty?” Juliet suggested.

“Too obvious,” said Sadie. “It should be something unique. Like him.”

“How about Cat Poop,” I said.

Sadie laughed, but Juliet looked confused. “I don’t get it,” she said.

Neither Sadie nor I enlightened her. Sadie’s the only person I’ve told about my special name for the doc, and I kind of like that it’s our secret.

“What about Bone?” said Juliet.

“What about him?” Sadie replied.

“The snowman,” Juliet said. “Why don’t we call him Bone? Or Boney. Like Frosty but different.”

Sadie raised one eyebrow. “Boney the snowman,” she said. “It’s ironic.” She looked at Juliet. “And fucked up. I like it.”

Juliet grinned. Sadie turned to me and Martha. “Are we all in agreement?” she asked.

I nodded, and so did Martha.

“Then Boney it is,” Sadie said. “Welcome to the world, Boney.”

We stood around looking at Boney for a while. Then Juliet started humming. A few seconds later, she started singing to the tune of “Frosty the Snowman.”

“Boney the snowman, was a crazy, whacked-out guy, with tattooed skin and a goofy grin, and he liked to get real high.”

Sadie and I laughed. Then Sadie sang some more.

“There must have been some acid in the soda that he had, ’cause when he went and drank it, it screwed him up real bad.”

“Excellent,” I said, applauding the two of them.

“Your turn,” said Sadie.

I thought hard, trying to remember another verse of the Frosty song. It had been a long time since I’d sung it. It took a moment, but then I sang, badly, “He led them to the psycho ward, right to the dear old doc. And when they asked him what was wrong, he told them…” I couldn’t think of how to end it.

“Suck my cock,” Juliet said. “He told them, ‘suck my cock.’”

Sadie turned and high-fived her. It was exactly what Bone would have said. Then all of us threw ourselves into the snow, laughing so hard I was afraid Nurse McCutcheon would think we were having fits. Even Martha did it, although I don’t think she really got why our song was funny.

After that we all went back inside, took off our snowy clothes, and sat in the lounge drinking hot chocolate, just like those goddamn perfect families you see in holiday commercials.

I’ve got a little bit of a cold today from being outside in the snow yesterday. That’s okay, though, because it was totally worth it to get out of here for a while. When I looked out the window this morning, I saw Boney still standing in the yard. There was a cardinal sitting on his head, picking at the carrot, and something—probably squirrels—had taken the cookies during the night. But he still looked pretty good. He was still holding up.

Even better: I’m not the only guy anymore. There’s another one. I guess the person who controls the guest list decided we needed a new face at our party.

Anyway, his name is Rankin. He’s a big guy, pretty normal looking. He reminds me of the guys who play football at school, the ones who think they rule the place because they can toss a ball around. I’m not a big fan of the jocks, I have to tell you. It’s like God knows they’re going to have crappy lives when high school is over and nobody cares anymore that they can score a goal or touchdown or whatever, so he makes them the big heroes for a few years to make up for it. The only problem is, the rest of us have to put up with them, which is totally not fair.

“Yeah,” he said when Cat Poop introduced him. “I’m Rankin. Hey.” He lifted one hand and sort of waved at us, then quickly put it back in his lap and gave a stupid half grin, as if he knew how dumb he looked.

Cat Poop waited a moment for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Watching Rankin, I wondered if I’d looked as clueless on my first day there as he did. Now I was a veteran. An old-timer. I also wondered if he was looking at me and thinking that I was crazy, the way I’d looked at Sadie, Bone, and the others that day.

“Is there anything you’d like us to know about you, Rankin?” the doc finally asked.

“Oh, right,” Rankin said, as if his brain had just been on pause and Cat Poop had hit the play button. “I play football.”

I laughed, just a little bit, but everybody heard it and looked at me. Rankin’s eyebrows went all scowly and he said, “What?”

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s just that I was thinking you look like a jock.”

He smiled. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I am.” I guess he thought I was complimenting him. Anyway, he was quiet for a few seconds, like he was trying to decide what to say. Then he said, “I just get kind of down sometimes.”

I almost laughed again. He sounded like such a little kid. “I get down sometimes.” Yeah, probably because it’s so hard being a popular jock and having everyone fall all over themselves whenever you win a stupid game. What an idiot.

Still, it’s kind of nice not being the only guy. Even though it was only for a day, I definitely felt outnumbered after Bone left. I was sort of afraid Juliet, Sadie, and Martha were going to make me play house with them, or have a tea party, or paint our toenails. Not that I think Rankin and I will be best buds or anything.

I wonder what he’s in for. I know—he gets sad sometimes. Who doesn’t? But there’s got to be something more going on in that big head of his. I’d try to figure it out, but, honestly, I really don’t care. Crazy is crazy. You either are or you aren’t. Like they are and I’m not. It’s pretty simple.

I’ve kind of given up trying to convince Cat Poop that I’m not. After all, I’ve been here three weeks tomorrow. That’s almost half of my sentence. Clearly, they aren’t letting me out early for good behavior. So now I just go to my sessions and talk about whatever. Let Cat Poop think what he wants.

Like today. He wanted to talk about friends.

“Do you have any friends?” he asked me.

“Define friends,” I said.

“People you enjoy spending time with,” he suggested. “People you share things with.”

“Do invisible ones count?” I asked. “Because then there’s Mr. Binky Funstuff and Giggles the Madcap Elf.”

“Let’s stick with real ones,” said Cat Poop. I think he’s getting used to me, because he didn’t even push his glasses up or tap his pencil.