Michael Ford - Suicide Notes

What happened tonight wasn’t a dream. I want it to be, but it wasn’t. It really happened. And now I feel worse than I did when they took me off the happy pill that first week. A lot worse. I almost feel the way I did the night I tried to, well, do what I did.

I went to bed around eleven last night. Even though things were okay between us, I was still a little freaked out about what happened with Sadie, and I just wanted to sleep for a while and forget about it. You know how things always seem worse at night, and how in the morning they aren’t that bad? Well, that’s not always true. Not this time, anyway.

I was dreaming. In my dream I was running along a street somewhere. It was nighttime, and the moon was full. The stars were all silver and shining, and it was warm, the perfect summer night. I was just running along. Then I spread my arms, like you do when you’re a kid and you’re pretending to be an airplane, and the wind lifted me into the sky.

There I was, flying. It’s not like I’ve never had a flying dream before, but this was different. I felt like a kite, riding the wind and watching the town below me. It looked like a miniature city, all the lights twinkling and the cars moving around like fireflies. It was totally beautiful and peaceful, and I never wanted it to end.

Then something happened. It was like the dream skipped a few frames, or someone hit the pause button in my brain. In my dream I started to fall back to earth. I woke up, and for a minute I thought I really had fallen. I didn’t know where I was or what was happening.

That’s when I realized that someone was in the bed with me. There was a body stretched alongside mine, and the sheets and blankets were pulled back. The moon was shining in through the window, and I could see it reflected on bare skin. Someone was touching me. There was a hand between my legs, stroking me. And I was hard.

“It’s okay,” a voice whispered in my ear. For a second, I thought it was Sadie, and that this time I might be able to go through with it.

But it wasn’t Sadie. It was Rankin. He was in my bed, naked, and he was jacking me off. It was so totally bizarre that for a minute I was sure I was still dreaming. But I felt his skin on mine, and his hand going up and down. I could even feel his breath where he was breathing against my neck.

All I could say was, “What are you doing?”

“Do you like it?” Rankin asked me.

“Don’t,” I told him. But I couldn’t move. It was like I was frozen. For a minute I thought I was still dreaming, that I might wake up and be alone in my bed. I shut my eyes.

Rankin stopped what he was doing and moved his hand up my belly. His fingers were rough, but they still tickled. When he rested his palm on my chest I could feel the calluses he has from playing ball.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” he said. He moved his head closer to me and kissed my neck.

I wanted to tell him to stop. I wanted to tell him to get out of my bed and out of my room. But it was like my voice was locked in my throat. I kept swallowing, trying to break through the block that was there, but nothing worked. Wake up, I told myself. Wake up wake up wake up wake up.

“You can touch me if you want to,” said Rankin.

My hands were at my sides, my right one pressed against Rankin’s stomach where he was lying next to me. I could feel his skin, and the muscle beneath it. He moved closer, and my fingertips touched skin and hair. I was so scared I couldn’t move. Mostly I wanted to be anywhere else, but part of me was really curious.

He pushed himself against me. He was hard. I moved my hand, and my fingers wrapped around him. I wasn’t sure why I was doing it. Maybe I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t do it. I just pretended I was still dreaming.

Rankin’s body tensed, then relaxed, and the two of us just stayed there like that for a while. I could feel the blood pumping through him, and I started moving my hand up and down him. He put his hand back between my legs and did the same thing. Neither of us said anything while we did it, but every so often Rankin would brush his lips against my neck. I don’t know how long we were there, but it felt like hours. Then I felt Rankin’s body stiffen and he groaned. My hand was covered in sticky heat, and he gripped me harder. A few seconds later I was done too.

I didn’t know what to do afterward. Rankin sat up and wiped his hands on his T-shirt, which he’d thrown on the floor. Then he pulled his underwear on and left without saying anything.

When he was gone, I put my hand to my nose. It was still sticky from him. I could smell Rankin on my fingers, a mix of sweat and something else I can’t really describe. I wiped my hand on the sheets to get it off, but the smell stayed in my nose, no matter how hard I breathed to clear it out.

I tried to get back to sleep, but I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes I could feel Rankin touching me, feel his breath on my neck and his skin against mine.

Why did I do that with him? Why did I let him stay?

I don’t know why. But I did, and now I feel like crap. Dirty. Worst of all, I have to see my parents today. And I don’t even want to think about having to see Rankin later. Maybe he won’t say anything and we can pretend it never happened. He’s good at that, right? And maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe it was all a sick dream, and I’ll still wake up.

I honestly can’t tell you much about how things went with my parents this morning. It was fine, I guess. We basically talked about how much we all love each other and how they’re looking forward to having me come home in a couple of weeks. I didn’t say much, and for once Cat Poop didn’t push me. Maybe he could see how tired I was. I’m sure I’ll get grilled about it in our session tomorrow.

Anyway, the point is, I’m sort of preoccupied. For obvious reasons, I tried to avoid Rankin, but I ran into him this morning in the bathroom. I seriously have to talk to somebody about getting my own bathroom. This togetherness thing is becoming a problem.

I wasn’t even going to take a shower. That’s how much I didn’t want to see Rankin. But around here if you don’t take a shower, someone will accuse you of being depressed again and you’ll have to go through the whole “Is anything troubling you today, Jeff?” bullshit. Who needs it? Also, I didn’t want to meet my parents smelling like Rankin’s dick.

So of course I walked in and there he was. He had his towel wrapped around his waist, and he was standing outside the shower waiting for the water to get hot. The water here takes forever to warm up. I swear they have, like, three old women in the basement boiling water over actual fires. Then the water takes so long to get up here, it’s only warmish when it comes out.

“Hey,” Rankin said, like nothing weird had happened.

“Hey,” I said back, then stood there feeling like an idiot. But what was I supposed to say? “ Thanks for coming over last night ? Sorry I didn’t have clean sheets on the bed ?” I mean, what?

I was going to turn around and leave, but right then Rankin dropped his towel. Then he looked at me, nodded toward the shower, and stepped in.

I swear I don’t know why I did it, but I followed him. It was like someone else had taken control of my body. Rankin had left the curtain open, and before I knew what I was doing, I stepped inside and pulled it closed behind me.

We just stood there for a while under the water. The stalls aren’t that big, so we were basically pressed against each other. I was staring at his chest, noticing how hairy he is and trying not to think about anything. Then Rankin kissed me. His lips pressed against mine. He had some beard stubble, and it felt scratchy on my cheek.