Michael Ford - Suicide Notes

“So this is what we were to her,” I said. “Just a list of problems.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” said Cat Poop. “I think she wanted to believe that you all had something in common.”

“Being crazy?” I said.

He nodded. “It probably made her feel better about herself.”

Maybe so, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, I’m even madder at her than I was before. I’m mad because she turned out to be such a phony. She wanted me—and everyone else—to think she was so cool and nothing could bother her. She wanted us to believe that she really had it all together. And we did. Or at least I did.

But she wasn’t together. She wasn’t cool and strong and smarter than everyone else. She was afraid. She was afraid we’d all see the real her one day and that we wouldn’t like it. Well, I don’t like it. I don’t like that she lied to me and made me think she was someone she wasn’t. I don’t like that she pretended to be cool with everything but was really running away. I don’t like that I want to be sad about her dying but I can’t because I’m too mad at her.

First Allie and now Sadie. They both left me. And even though Sadie never said it, part of me still wonders if it’s because I’m gay. Allie couldn’t handle it. Maybe Sadie couldn’t either.

So now it’s just me, Juliet, and Martha. The last three little soldier boys. I guess everyone waiting behind the velvet ropes to get in decided to go to a different club or something. Tonight after dinner, me and Juliet were sitting in the lounge. I don’t know why, but I asked her, “Did you like Sadie?”

Juliet put down the book she was reading. “I liked her the way you like a hurt dog,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“You feel sorry for it, and you want to help it, but you’re not sure it won’t bite you when you’re not looking,” Juliet said.

Now I know Juliet says some weird stuff. But sometimes she gets it exactly right, like occasionally her craziness goes away long enough for her to really see you. I knew what she meant. Sadie was kind of like that. She was always wagging her tail and making you think she liked you, but I’m not sure she really liked any of us any more than she liked herself.

“What about Rankin?” I asked Juliet.

She shook her head. “I never liked him,” she said. “Did you?”

As far as I know, she doesn’t know anything about what happened with Rankin and me. I think only Moonie, Goody, and Carl know, and I don’t think they would say anything. I guess they’ve seen so many crazy things that they forget about them pretty fast or at least get really good at pretending to.

I shrugged. “I thought we were friends,” I told her. “But I guess I didn’t like him. Not really.”

“Why would you be friends with someone you didn’t like?” Juliet asked me. For a second she reminded me of Cat Poop, and I pictured her with a pad and pencil.

“Sometimes you don’t know you don’t like someone until you’ve been around them for a while,” I said.

“I do,” said Juliet. “I can always tell if I like someone or not.”

I asked her how.

“I get itchy when I’m near them,” she said. “I think I’m allergic to dangerous people. Rankin made me itch.”

You might think she’s just nuts, but it makes as much sense as anything else. I mean, how do you know if people are good for you or not? It’s not like they come with an fda approved sticker or anything.

That made me think about Allie again and whether or not we’re still friends. It’s not like this was our first fight. It was just a lot more serious than other fights we’ve had. What if she calls and apologizes for dumping me? Would I forgive her?

Man, that’s a hard one. It’s not like we just had a fight over what movie to go to. She cut me out because Burke told her I kissed him. She didn’t even stop to ask me if it was true.

But it was true. That’s the thing. If she’d asked me then, I would have said Burke was lying or that I was joking around with him. I would never have told her that I was gay, because I couldn’t even tell myself that I was. So she was kind of right. Not to break our friendship up the way she did but about being angry. I don’t even know if she was angrier about me maybe being gay or me kissing her boyfriend. She never gave me the chance to ask.

I know Allie pretty well, and I don’t think she’d stop being my friend because I’m gay. If I had just told her, things might have been different. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance.

“I’m pretty sure I’m gay, and I’d like to find out more about what that means.”

My dad was really quiet for a while. Then he said, “You’re too young to know something like that.”

Only it wasn’t my dad. It was Cat Poop. Today I had my dress rehearsal with him. My dress rehearsal for telling my parents about myself. I decided last night that I would do it. I mean, if I’m going to go to all the trouble of being gay and everything, I might as well tell people.

Cat Poop offered to be both my dad and my mom, but the idea of my mom needing to shave really didn’t work for me, so I told him we could stick to my dad. Besides, I think my father will be the hard one to deal with, anyway. Dads usually are.

So he sits in the chair across from me and I try to start. Only I can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound dumb. “I have something to tell you” just sounds like bad soap opera dialogue. “There’s something you need to know about me” is even worse, like you’re about to announce that you have leukemia or are a secret agent or something. Really, everything sounds way too dramatic.

I finally said, “I want to talk to you about why I hurt myself.” Then I explained about Allie and Burke and how I was afraid of the feelings I had for Burke and about how Allie had stopped being my friend because of it.

That’s when my “dad” said the thing about me being too young to know what I want. I was a little shocked at how hostile he sounded. Then I remembered that Cat Poop was playing a part. He didn’t know how my father would really respond, so he was trying one possible way to see what I did.

“I know I’m young,” I said. “But I also know how strong these feelings are, and I think I need to see what they mean.” It didn’t sound like me at all, but it was true. Besides, parents like it when you talk like that. It makes you sound more like them. Although now that I think about it, maybe that will just scare them more.

“You just need to see a shrink,” said Cat Poop Dad. “That will fix you.”

I wanted to laugh, but the doc looked really serious. I tried to imagine my dad really saying that. I don’t think he ever would, but it scared me to think that he could . I said, “I have been seeing a shrink, and he’s helped me understand a lot of things about myself. I’d like to keep talking to him if it’s okay with you, but I don’t think I need to be fixed. I just need to talk about some stuff.”

“What am I going to tell your grandmother?” asked Cat Poop. “What am I supposed to tell people?”

I took a deep breath and faced him. “Tell them the truth,” I said. “I’m not ashamed of myself. If you are, I’m sorry. But I don’t think there’s anything for you to be ashamed of.”

Cat Poop nodded. “Not bad,” he said. “Shall we try a different reaction?”

We went through some more scenes, or whatever you’d call them. Sometimes my dad was okay with what I had to say, and other times he was angry. By the time we were done I was exhausted. I don’t know how movie stars do the same scene over and over like that. It takes a lot out of you.